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"TA*<o? DiSfcOBDER
That Magazine from CITR fml02 cablelOO
October 1986 • Vol. 4/No. 9
EDITOR
Bill Mullan
WRITERS
Don Chow, Julia Steele, Larry Thiessen,
Mark Mushet, Iain Bowman, Travis B„
Robert Shea, Kevin Smith, Jerome Broadway,
Bill Mullan
ART DIRECTOR
Eric Damianos
CARTOONS
William Thompson, Pat Mullan,
Rod Filbrandt,Susan Catherine
COVER
Illustration — William Thompson
Colour — David Wilson, William Thompson
PRODUCTION MANAGER
Karen Shea
DESIGN
Harreson Atley
LAYOUT
Pat Carroll, Robin Razzell Lynn Snedden
Mike Mines, Shedo Ollek, Eric Damianos,
Johanna Block, Randy Iwata, Karen Shea
TYPESETTING
Sheila Haldane, Lisa Cameron
BUSINESS MANAGER
Randy Iwata
ADVERTISING MANAGER
Robin Razzell
DISTRIBUTION MANAGER
Bill Mullan
SUBSCRIPTIONS MANAGER
Randy Iwata
PUBLISHER
Harry Hertscheg
DISCORDER, c/o CITR Radio 6138 SUB Blvd.,
Vancouver, B.C., V6T 2A5. Phone (604) 228-3017.
DISCORDER Magazine is published monthly by
the Student Radio Society of the University of British
Columbia (CITR-UBC Radio).
CITR fml01.9 cablelOO.l broadcasts a 49-watt signal in stereo throughout Vancouver from Gage Towers
on the UBC campus. CITR is also available via FM
cable in Vancouver, West Vancouver, North Vancouver, Burnaby, Richmond, Coquitlam, Port Coquitlam,
Port Moody, Maple Ridge and Mission.
DISCORDER circulates 15,500 free copies. For
advertising and circulation inquiries call 228-3017 and
ask for station manager Harry Hertscheg.
Twelve-month subscriptions available: $10 in Canada, $10 U.S. in the U.S.A., $15 overseas. Send cheque
or money order payable to CITR Publications.
Unsolicited manuscripts, photographs, cartoons
and graphics are welcome but they can be returned
only if accompanied by a self-addressed, stamped
envelope. DISCORDER does not assume responsibility for unsolicited material.
IN THIS ISSUE
HORROR
Remember how much fun it was the last time you were really
scared. Bill Mullan does. 7
TAKIN' THE RAP
What do Fats Comet, Tackhead, Marc Stewart & the Mafia, and
ABC have in common? More than you'd think. A chilling
psychodrama, directed by Don Chow. 12
SHINDIG
Some good things can't help but get better. 16
IN EVERY ISSUE
AIRHEAD
Correspondence from our readers, the geniuses who actually
run western civilization. 4
BEHIND THE DIAL
The true meaning of life, recruitment for the Foreign Legion and
yet another sparkling new face.
ON THE DIAL
A guide to radio for normal people.
VINYL VERDICT
A buyer's guide to the sordid world of Nekrophile Records, plus
new vinyl from African Head Charge, The Lounge Lizards,
The Honeymoon Killers and more. 23
DEMO DERBY
Kevin Smith sticks his neck out, and tries to make sense of
some of the newer local tape releases.
THE ROVING EAR
Jerome Broadway discovers the ugly truth about Santa Barbara
California one terrifying Labor Day Weekend, and lives to
tell about it. 30
OCTOBER   1986       3
18
19
28 RHfcAfc
This Is The Modern
World
Dear Airhead,
I'm writing to complain about
Granville Street punks, so listen
up!
When punk first started out, it
didn't matter if you had a leather
jacket or if you wore ripped nylons, you were different and other
punks accepted you for that.
Why is it that now certain individuals (no names mentioned)
get to decide who's "in" the
crowd. If you have a leather jacket, then you're okay, but if you
wear ripped nylons, it's a sin.
Last summer, as a punk, I was
accepted for what I was, but this
summer I have found the punks
so ignorant and boring that I'm
sick of them—especially the
ones who sit around acting like
Kings & Queens of Hardcore.
There's more to life than sitting
on Granville and deciding who's
"in".
Signed, my real name,
Claudia Taylor
"If one says to these people
that their judgement is not their
own, that it has been suggested
to them, they will be offended. It
is like this in most cases, for most
people. Almost all of them receive
their ideas already made, and
follow popular opinion all their
lives. They speak in the style of
the times and dress according to
fashion, not from any principle,
but in order to act like the others.
Servile immitators, who say yes
or no according to suggestion,
they believe themselves to be
self-determining. Is this not folly?"
(Chuang Tzu, 4th Century b.c.)
borrowed by us from a Pete
Shelley album cover.
Great Expectations
Dear Airhead,
Fuck SEXPO! I wuz really surprised when the FIRA concerts
were announced, that SEXPO
would even give good music a
try. I thought, Hey Great, maybe
SEXPO isn't as bad as I thought
it wuz. But no! I wuz right the first
time. When they cancelled the
festival on account of Slow's performance,   they  proved  them-
VMcoosefc, &.c.
selves major idiots. When we
went to see Slow, we were expecting the unexpected, as should
be expected. People who weren't
expecting the unexpected
weren't expected to show up!
And those who didn't know what
to expect aren't expected to complain because they were confused to begin with.
Another thing is that they
didn't give FIRA another chance.
Fuck 'em! We don't need SEXPO anyway. We didn't ask for it
and didn't expect it, and as far
as we're concerned, it can go to
SEXPO hell! Were you expecting
a letter like this? Of course you
were.
Yours greatly disturbed,
The Expected Letter
What Me Worry?
Dear Airhead,
I would like to start off by saying that I think CITR is a great
radio station and I read Discorder
religiously (IV2 years now). I'm
writing because I've noticed a
drastic change in your airplay
and especially in your Spin List.
I notice you no longer have a
numbered list (no real problem),
but all the bands on it border on
being commercial and are on
major labels. What happened to
independent (especially local)
bands? The August issue had
only three local bands. What
about NoMeansNo, Animal
Slaves, Emily, House of Commons, Bill of Rights, Poisoned,
Death Sentence, Vertical Laughter et cetera?
Could you please explain to
me why you don't play more local
bands? I would hate to lose faith
in my favorite station and publication.
Worried,
Barbi Roper (15)
Actually, losing faith in us
would probably save you from
eternal damnation. Still, if you
must eat fire... CITR's commitment to local music is the same
as always; perhaps you should
ask the bands you mentioned
when they plan to put something
new out? When they do, we'll play
DISCORDER It. As for major label acts, they
have always dominated the chart-
top because of the way the playlist is made. The records listed in
Discorder are the ones that the
30 or so people that are DJs here
have played the most number of
times during the month. Major
label artists are generally more
well-known to most people (DJs
too) and so they have a better
chance, it seems, of getting on
the turntable. It's a question of accessibility as much as one of
value, which is why we shun
numbers on the SpinList. If you
only consult the chart in Discorder, then you're not getting the
full story. We'll be talking more on
this in future issues, but if you
want to hear more things that are
less common, call the request
line and ask the DJ to play them.
It's in his hands.
—Don Chow, music director
Let's Play Post Office
Again
Dear Airhead,
What the hell is going on with
the letter from the idiot in Nepean, Ontario (August issue). I'm
surprised the yellow bellied amphibian had the guts to sign his
name! I'm moving to Kanata, Ontario (also a district of Ottawa)
and frankly David, dear, you
should be castrated. But hey,
we'll let you live; but only because you didn't slander the
underground scene in Ottawa.
So let me take care of that one.
Speaking as a resident of both
Vancouver and Ottawa, I can
honestly say the Vancouver
scene is much more exciting.
The Ottawa underground is too
tame, and all the groups (dare I
call them that?) seem to think
they're on to something new;
something which local Vancouver bands have been doing for
quite a while. And CKCU (Carleton University Campus Radio)
has no taste (or very little) and
doesn't compare to CITR in
terms of class. CITR lacks it
desperately and that's what
makes it so appealing to people
like me.
And David; here's something
for your surely one-celled amoeba brain to contemplate: if Ottawa was as dead as you claim,
would I be moving there, and
would you still live there? No
siree Bob!
The Rich Bitch ir
Vancouver/Kanata
Do we need any more of this?
I don't think so. Is Ottawa even
part of Canada?
Yes, We Are The Scum
Of The Earth
Dear Airhead,
Not only has the gauntlet been
dropped, it has been smashed.
No effort has been made to halt
the increasing crassness of your
non-covers, I see! I would rather
see a picture of Karen Shea's
mountain bike on the cover, instead of another cheesy, crayon-
scrawled cartoon. Have you no
integrity, you "alternative
types"???
Please someone, besides me,
send in something, even performance art would be an improvement!! I've seen more creativity
in Fred Basset cartoons!!!
R. Bucky Fuller
again...
PerrySCOpe Concert Line Up
A Cult Victim
Confesses
Dear Airhead,
I'm so fuckin' pissed off! You
know a couple months ago
someone got pissed off cuz a
bunch of trendies started liking
and listening to Depeche Mode
etc. Well, now The Cure has
gone Top 40. Well, Fuck that!
When I heard they were on Video
Hits (CBC), I shit my pants (literally), along with probably quite a
few people. Something should
be done about this. It isn't fair!
All of us who have supported and
devoted our lives to these groups
in their struggling years (namely
The Cure) are now, or soon will
be, known as sissies or trendies.
Top 40 freaks who've never even
heard of any underground or alternative groups will start liking
our music only because it's become "trendy" in classification.
What an insult!!
Yours in hell,
Pissed Off
Genesis, The Who, The Police,
Madonna, Eurythmics, Wham,
Supertramp, Rolling Stones, The
Doors, Led Zeppelin, Queen,
Kiss, Peter Frampton, Elton John,
Bruce Springsteen, and Tina
Turner. What do the previous
recording artists have in common? There was once a time
when all were hungry, struggling
and (except for a rabid underground following) virtually unknown. Give it a rest, Pissed Off.
Stop being an elitist goof.
CITR
presents
Jezebel
with guests
Der Mlttle Gang
October 4 • 9 pm • Town Pump
%
?
CFMI presents
With guests Guadalcanal Diary
October S • 8 pm • UBC Gym
CKNW presents
THE MASTER OF ILLUSION
DOUG
HENNING
THURS. OCT. 23   O.e. Theatre
two shows   6 • 9 pm
OCTOBER  1986 DISCORDER & CITR
PRESENTS
A SPECIAL FILM PREVIEW
Thursday, October 22nd, at 8:00 pm
at the
Cineplex Odeon Royal Centre
The first 50 people to bring this ad to
the CITR studios between 9 and 5
weekdays will receive one pair of tickets to the special preview of Down By
law.
Listen to CITR for more ticket giveaways.
„ roPxeS  vn Do8* ,*i\e*-
XM®0
III]
*&><
9/*~alto c'rt>
,^i,Ar^P
„*T«A>* '**"
N-r*
RcBfctt
Centre and D***
<sS5^ n (fK>m h(Mrere, tp briltleJ      e, ie afraid)
-aTpainfAemot»nwf felt dreavand
bhorence? a shuddering  Jitflr terwr and
>
rrfad
fdering  \iittf terw
loathing; A feeling caused by fbmething
frightful and shocking.
*
OCTOBER  1986       7 "In a few steps, they were in utter and
impenetrable dark. The air was still, stagnant, heavy, and sound fell dead. They
walked as it were in a black vapour
wrought of veritable darkness itself that, as
it was breathed, brought blindness not only
to the eyes but to the mind, so that even
the memory of colours and of forms and of
any light faded out of thought. Night
always had been and always would be, and
night was all. "
(JRR Tolkien).
Boo!
Go ahead. Be afraid. Sweat. Shiver. Shit
your pants even. It's that time of year, isn't it?
Ghosts and goblins, jackals and wolves, huge
slimey presences that breathe fire, eat virgins,
vote conservative and believe in "the good ole
days" (?). Hallowe'en is just days away, the
grim edge of winter, the brink of the abyss.
You'll want to keep your doors and windows
closed, stock up on firewood and generally
spend most of your time indoors. It'll be getting dark earlier and staying so longer. A lot
of things will die.
You'll watch more television than you have
in months, check out some of the new fall
shows, and eventually rent a bunch of videotapes; tapes with an accent on horror because, contrary to what your soft pastel suburban surroundings might suggest, you know
that's what's cool these days. You've looked
around, read the newspaper, listened to the
radio. Horror is in. Next door, downtown, south
of the border, all over the world.
Consider A Few Facts
1. We have the nuclear means to kill
everybody on this planet forty times (or is it
one-hundred forty?). 2. The ozone is rapidly
disappearing over Antarctica and our experts
have no clear idea what this means. 3. There
are at least five times as many people (hetero
and homosexual) fatally infected With AIDS but
not yet showing symptoms, than there are already dying of it (these things take time). 4.
They're still hiring at that post office in Alabama.
Yes, with the possible exception of mainstream popular music and late night television, everything is worse than it was ten years
ago. Being cool, of course, this isn't news to
you. It follows then (still being cool) that you
want to know more about it, to share vicariously in some of this experience, ". . .the painful
emotion of fear, dread and abhorrence; the
shuddering with fear and loathing." It's only
human to be curious, to harbor a healthy fascination for the pain, disease and insanity of
your fellow humans. They are not islands.
They share your planet. Their despair will inevitably affect you (or someone you know).
And what safer, more entertaining way to
satisfy this curiosity than to watch a few
movies. The following then is a brie»rimeM
concerning some of the quality horror^rrent- i
ly available on videotape; an incomplete list
of suggested study material for the long cold
months ahead.
Zombie Gorror Epics
What if mankind as a whole got so evil that
just about everyone who died went to hell, until
one day hell overflowed, the gates broke down
and all those evil dead types returned to earth
as ravenously hungry human eating zombies?
Such is the premise of director George Romero's "Living Dead" trilogy (Night of the
Living Dead, Dawn of the Dead and Day of
the Dead). Here's bone crushing, flesh mulching eyeball sucking biologically correct gore
of the most extreme order. Here's more corpses than you could fill an LRT train with. Here's
horror at its most disgustingly blatant.
Also well worthy of mention are Return of
The toll free calling area of Greater Vancouver is the
game board and you are one of the playing pieces.
Track down your target, squirt 'em, say GOTCHA,
and you could be on your way to winning a
$5,000.00 PRIZE
Remember, you MUST get your photo I.D. by
midnight, Sunday Oct. 5/86 at
SECRET AGENT HEADQUARTERS
6244 E. Blvd. (between 46th & 47th Ave.)
TICKETS $20 at VTC/CBO Info. Centres in all Lower Mainland
Malls, Eaton's, Woodwards, AMS Tkts./UBC. Charge by phone
280-4444 or at Secret Agent Headquarters.
For Full Rules call the Secret Agent HOTLINE
261-GAME or 683-5062
GAME STARTS IN EACH ENTRY'S OWN MUNICIPALITY
For more info, see this week's Georgia Straight
1 Records
QFEO SEET
HEADQUARTERS
AFRICAN • CARRIBEAN
LATIN • BLUES • JAZZ
FUNK • ETC.
251-6964
1317 Commercial Dr.
blocks noi
of 1 st Ave
8      DISCORDER ne Living Dead, an absofi;
unofficial-rip-off-parody
I favorite
of Romero's trj
sonal I
gorror epic simp
cause it is so funny); and ReAnimator, a grin
i the Frankenstein legend which de
i only for one scene(un-
:ial merit if c
5 here)whic
repulsivene
cia
'le heBpfhich manages to take the
concept of repulsiveness beyond all reason-
abld^Bnds (speaking of which, BEWARE the
versions of ReAnimator and Day of
the Dead. They are in greatest local' abundance and are so badly butchered as to be
ridiculous. As far as I know, only Videomatica
carries the uncensored versions).
Monster Savage Jaw Epics
"Daese ai^a lot like the Zombie Gorror Epics
except the bad guys don't look quite so familiar (they're generally very ugly, very unhu-
manlike, very large creatures of the purely
malevolent persuasion). Like the zombies,
they have an insatiable preference for human
flesh (or brains), and waste no time on pre-
meal discussion or negotiations. The list of
possible suggestions here is enormous-
there have been many decent monster savage
jaw epics—&o III just mention my two personal
favorites.
in 4 r
• • THEATRE • •
16th & Arbutus 738-6311
OCT. 3 - OCT. 9      7:30 & 9:30
FROM JEAN-CHARLES TACHELLA,
DIRECTOR OF COUSIN-COUSIN E
STAIRCASE C
Based on the prize-winning novel
by Elvine Murail
An hilarious and touching
story of the broke, the busted, but most
of all the thoroughly disgusted
IN FRENCH WITH ENGLISH SUBTITLES
RATING T.B.A.
7:30     OCT. 10-OCT. 16     9:30
RATING T.B.A
"Explosive...
extraordinary realit
admirable suspense.
(New York Post)
In Spanish, English Subtitles
IN DUTCH, ENGLISH SUBTITLES
7:30      OCT. 17-OCT. 23     9:30
DRUM/SING *
Featuring New Zeabnds
FROM  SCRATCH
IN SELECTED THEATRES
AND
Colin McPhee-.
THE LURE OF
ASIAN MUSIC
RATING T.B.A.
| DOLBY stereoT A COMPOSER'S
NOTES:
PHILIP GLASS:
THE
MAKING
OF AN
OPERA
RATING T.B.A.
NEXT DOUBLE BILL
Koyaanisqatsi/28 Up
October 24-30
:
OCTOBER  1986 I
Jaws is Steven Spielberg's best film*
«>nely, hungry \
Hast of New Engl^
^imer mealstop i:
an extended e
just savagely terr
HIHatically
^es that's defic
T really do carl
bnagers and chi^
nd that personal
Jabberwocky ojj
nuch a film that h<j
norror.  Director
1 fashioned a twiste
I about a huge humj
aging monster, Tj|
simple-stupid-yet-^
Cooper, who even|
slays it. As much
depraved and desp^
creation of capitalist
it is a monster movil
theless quite grotes
(put also very fi
) (it's one of those
Gtter than the book).
ut the various adults,
who get munched,
|our horror.
i other hand isn't so
les, as one that's about
i Gilliam (Brazil) has
unny Medieval fable
ling, countryside-rav-
[Jabberwock, and the
Itious farmboy, Dennis
^[y (quite by mistake)
jprical treatise on the
Intentions behind the
i the modern city as
Iberwocky is never-
: and it does shock,
and it will make you think about horror and
how the powers-that-be in society have always
used it (real, psychological or otherwise) as
a very efficient tool of oppression.
Which Brings Us To Real Life
Horror
Sometimes you don't need mythical
monsters, aliens or underwater living stomachs to turn you a shade pale. Sometimes
(you know this, you're cool) real life turns the
screw and cracks the laughter just fine all by
itself.
Now,   Kil
Glory,
thing abl
movies, (j
Why do v
^ar for instance. Take Apocalypse
lg Fields, Salvador, Paths of
>s of Iron et al. The only good
,war is it m^^
iy does manki
till butcher our
it's good for the economy,
> stupid. Even Boy Ge H knows that.
It's a point which Peter Watkins' The War
Game (not to be confused with Hollywood's
bland War Games) drives home with terrifying power. Shot in black and white and incor-
P°raH cinema vente documentary filmmak-
^would have
British city
ar war in
[). It concerns
ie lines of liv-
reakdown of
criminal stupidity of
C (who paid to have
[us concerned bureau-
10 horrific, The War
years later, virtually
television's insulting
(therein lies the real
is the one war movie
nly a psychotic could
able to condone the
f nuclear attack, first
rtunately, as far as I
le on video though
re open for it).
Jsn't The Only
" pect Of Reality
TV game shows? Fast food
kinny Puppy? What about fa-
cism (specifically Mr. Hitler's attempt to institutionalize worldwide racism, genocide and barbarism), and the various reverberating effects
his twisted vision still has on us today? Two
tragedy. The War Gc
everybody should se
walk away and still
possibility of any kir
strike or retaliatory (i!
know, it's not yet av£
it shoulcj^e. Keep ar1
ALTERNATIVE TOP TEN
VIDEOS:
1. SUBWAY
2. DON'T LOOK BACK-DYLAN
3. TROUBLE IN MIND
4. THE M0NKEES
5. THE PASSENGER
6. GREAT ROCK N' ROLL SWINDLE
7. RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD
8. MIXED BLOOD
9. PHILIP GLASS
10. HAMLET
SALES
RENTALS
WEST 4th AVE. AT BURRARD  734-0411 documentaries come instantly to mind. Leni
Riefenstahl'sTriumph of the Will is particularly
chilling because it was commissioned by The
Third Reich itself and so comes directly from
the belly of the beast. It's all there: the power,
the pageantry, the cast of hundreds of thousands. The lights and the powerful sound. No,
it's not a Queen concert or the Liberty Day
Celebration. It's the Nuremburg Rally.
Forty years later, half the world away, a different filmmaker captured something equally disturbing. California Reich (circa 1975)
documents a resurgence of the old madness.
The eyes are still blue, the skin is still white,
and the folks are still so damned committed,
concerned and normal. Too bad about the
armbands. Too bad about the five year old kid
who tells us Jews and Niggers should be killed and the parents who chuckle proudly at
the precocity of this comment. But, of course,
you've seen all this before. These are your Uncle Bob's home movies.
What Happens To Reality
When The Going Gets Just
Too Black?
It gets strange, of course, slightly fantastic,
bizarrely humorous and vaguely psychedelic.
Souls break. The old ways bare their teeth and
turn backward on themselves. Confusion
rears its ugly head and meanings obscure.
Clockwork Orange, Brazil and O Lucky Man
are three of my all-time favorite films. Not so
much horrors as satirical responses to the hor
ror that is contemporary normality, they pick
hard at the various flaws in the facade, flirt to
varying degrees with the surreal, and push
relentlessly toward a definitive impression of
the universal disease which is madness: So
ciety as an every imploding blackhole insatiably hungry (like the Zombies and the Savage
Jaw Monsters) for the light that is the human
spirit. And when the light's gone, what's left?
Nothing of course, except nothing—for eternity. And what's eternity? Think quickly about
some time when you were truly terrified.
Maybe your first time on a roller coaster.
Maybe your last time at the dentist. Remember how it felt like it would never end—there
was just that vertigo sucking on your soul
forever—except suddenly it did end. Well, eternity's just like that, except it never does end,
and madness is just like eternity.
That's the real horror.
"Here is the final truth about horror
movies: they do not love death as some
have suggested; they love life. They do not
celebrate deformity, but by dwelling on
deformity, they sing of health and energy.
By showing us the miseries of the damned,
they help us to rediscover the smaller (but
never petty) joys of our own loves. They are
the barber's leeches of the psyche drawing
not bad blood but anxiety... for a little
while, anyway." (Steven King.)
—Bill Mullan
(With apologies for all the great films I ignored
or overlooked.)
("The  HoftRo*,
T«6^0^6£,
-KlJ)*
l>jriZljAn£
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OCTOBER   1986  « 11 TAKIN' THE RAP,
HITS COMET-THREE OR FOUR ACTS IN ONE
"W
w  W   e're seriously into production, but we're in a serious educating mode too.
We're trying to let everybody know exactly how important it is to know the different styles
of music that can be available, and what we're able to do. Pretty soon, some of the Fats
Comet stuff might be early National Geographic presents Fats Comet. It'd be a very
educational experience, in a day and age where a lot of people are more or less into,
'well how can you follow somebody else's groove?' We really wanna do as much
£ educating as we can, just as far as new sounds, and what a human being is capable of
^doing in the different roles and ideas he can project."
—Badass Mutherf**ker
WIMBISH:
LEBLANC:
WIMBISH:
LEBLANC:
"Y
I  o
our basic abuse of technology."
—Funky Whiteboy
THE PLAYERS
In 1979, bad-ass-motherfucker-in-your-face bass player Doug wimbish and funky-white-boy drummer Keith
LeBlanc were the heart of the house band for Sugarhill Records. They did the music for some 27 different
rap acts, making it possible to take rap off the street and onto vinyl for the first time. Although they missed out on the fame and fortune enjoyed by the more vocal rappers, LeBlanc, Wimbish, and guitarist Skip
McDonald have been quietly crunching on people's ears while moving ever forward. Much more than just
studio musicians, they're responsible for Tackhead, Mark Stewart & The Maffia, Grandmaster Flash's The
Message, Malcolm X's No Sell Out, and the list goes on and on. Along with British producer and mix-
whizzard Adrian Sherwood, they are also known as Fats Comet.
THE SETTING
A rooftop in New York City. It is an evening in mid-summer, and the sound of the streets can be heard
clearly in the background. LeBlanc and Wimbish enter carrying 200 pounds of TNT attached to a kick
drum, forty gallons of gasoline, a twelve foot rail attached to some sheet metal by four bass guitar strings,
and a special blend of 17 different herbs and spices.
A neighbour screams at them, wonders what the hell they're doing.
We're in the process of doing some more Fats Comet stuff, keeping Fats real chubby. He has a very big
appetite, so we must feed him new music and new ideas or he might burp on us. We're going to experiment deeply, and get into more of our real roots. Keith and I played a lot of jazz and funk coming up,
so we're gonna do some of that, but not just traditional—oh-they're-trying-to-sound-like—type of shit.
We're gonna take it a bit further on the technical side.
(Starts running wires from a wall outlet into the TNT.)
It'll be tech, but it'll be the raw playing there too. It's gonna be serious slammin'. (Lights a match). Plus,
we're very friendly now, so we're working with a lot of other musicians. Keith has an album out called
Major Malfunction.
(Wimbish sets fire to the herbs and spices. A healthy cloud of multi-colored smoke envelops both he
and LeBlanc.)
We might do a tour here in the States, with Adrian Sherwood live, dubbing the gigs. He's actually part
of the band; we don't do gigs without him. As a matter of fact, when we do gigs, people go just to
watch him mix. If we did it in New York, people would either love it or they'd hate it, that type of situation. Usually, when people are turned off to something right away, it's because they don't understand it.
12      DISCORDER Fats Comet, I to r, Adrian Sherwood, Keith Leblanc, Skip McDonald, Doug Wimbish.
OCTOBER   1986      13 WIMBISH:
LEBLANC:
WIMBISH:
LEBLANC:
WIMBISH:
LEBLANC:
WIMBISH:
LEBLANC:
LEBLANC:
WIMBISH:
LEBLANC:
WIMBISH:
14     DISCORDER
Or, it's something new—that's been proven for years—and with Adrian mashing a mix while we're playing... People are used to hearing everything you do on stage. Being studio musicians, there might be
people coming to the gigs wanting to hear a lot of the things we play. But Adrian might take the bass
out for a good minute, and pan bass drum across the audience.
(The smoke cloud has grown enormously. It covers the whole rooftop now. The aforementioned neighbour
has  collapsed and fallen on the building, but LeBlanc and Wimbish ramble on unaffected.)
Everybody has their own way of interpreting things. The bottom line is just doing what you feel you have
to. The person has to be able to express themselves, or hope that whatever they're translating, someone else can appreciate. But a lot of times, people just go with the flow of whatever somebody else
thinks is hip, is thinking about. We don't really worry about that, because there are so many different categories that we can put people's heads into—or their ears, at least—musically. It all adds- up
to 13 to me, just keep pumping the stuff out. I know what we're gonna do, the shit's gonna thrash. It's
just a matter of time. Me and Skip and Keith and Adrian, we know what time it is. And obviously, other
time-keepers have been knowing what time it is. You've got to be in the ball park to get hit, you can't be
at the side talking about swing. We ain't about that, we're just, "OK, that's fine, that didn't happen.
Next..." It's a matter of odds. Some people's outlooks—not mine personally—are in selling records and
making big mega-stars. Everybody would, of course, love to do that. The more things you put out, the
more chance you have of getting what you call a hit. Some people need a hit just to be able to do what
they got to do. There's a lot of different avenues...
Everything's a hit till it hits the street, haha. Then you find out what's a hit and what isn't.
(Emergency sirens have begun to wail in the distance. Wimbish and Leblanc ignore them.)
We're looking at around the end of the year before we really start seeing some response to what's happening. There's a lot of things we've put out in different territories, enough to shake up some people's
reactions. We wanna see exactly where we stand, and we're experimenting with different things so that
if we strike up on something, we can follow it through and project the right proper image. We have
three or four different things out, under different names. It's good to be able to go into different territories and they know us under a certain vibe. Like we go to Amsterdam and they're aware of us as
Fats Comet and as Mark Stewart and Maffia. We go to other places and it's a different setting...
They come to see Tackhead
Tackhead is getting a little name. In England, of the records got a lot of response,
just among the traditional Tackheads—and that's all we really want. Once you get to the root
of who really understands what you're doing, they can tell the story. And that usually creates a group
keeping an underground vibe happening, a true audience that you can depend on, year after year.
Those are the ones you wanna make sure you take care of first, because they're the ones who'll stick
behind you, night and day. We have a lot of faithful fans throughout the world, and they've seen us
under different eyes. I was just on the road with Jeff Beck, and so they saw a member of .the Fats Comet crew under a whole 'nother light. And Keith did all of the ABC drum program album, which is about
as commercial as you can get.
You gotta protect yourself. You can't let people put you in a category...
Stay trendy till they're ready for you, because once they start figuring you out...
...you're done, you're over, you're history. We did a couple of Mark Stewart gigs in London, and the
crowd loved it. We loved it. The critics hated it. Mark Stewart is kind of punk hero in the UK, and when
they saw basically a studio band come in and do a gig with him, all these hardcore punk enthusiasts
loved it, but the writers hated it. If you play in the UK and the reviewers hate you—the real trendy
ones—then you know you're doing something new and different. Sigue Sigue Sputnik was at our gigs
in the front row, every night.
(The sirens are louder now. Leblanc ventures out of the herb smoke for a moment, peers over the edge of
the building, then shrugs unconcernedly.)
We try not to do too many things for money. There are those times when you have to do a project you
don't really care for. We haven't had to do that for a while, which is good. The basic thing is to work on.
stuff we genuinely like. We go in the studio and have a good crack, as they say. There was this one
studio we were in for months at a time; we had this joke about being locked in there and having a plate
of food put under the door everyday. No radio, no communication with the outside—we were saying,
what kind of music would you come up with after a month of that?
Just the air conditioner for company. We were up in North London in the midst of the worst winter in fifty fucking years. But it was good, you're able to work.
New York's the home of fast everything. So we go to London to cut this experimental stuff because
there's no limit on time. We can really take our time and craft the stuff just the way we want it. Here, it's
kinda fast food, fast everything.
People need it quick, you know what I mean? With cheese? Without cheese? Yes, we want a DJ, we
want the motherfucker done in two minutes... it keeps you up on what's happening. You stay sharp or
else you become dull, like a butter knife. Anybody can spread butter. We're making music here.
(A commotion arises just off-stage: shouts, spotlights. Suddenly a half-dozen firemen charge out onto the LEBLANC:
WIMBISH:
LEBLANC:
WIMBISH:
rooftop, axes and hoses poised for action. But the smoke confuses them. They stumble stupidly about.
Leblanc and Wimbish ignore them.)
There's a lot of new talent coming, and there's a big movement coming in the music industry. The
whole English thing of, 'let's go in the studio and cut a record and put our own record—that's happening across this country now, with little independents in Chicago, a whole punk vibe there, and San
Francisco... So you have all this new talent coming up, and there's gotta be someplace for it to go. It's
not just going to stagnate. It's gonna have to come out, because along with this new talent, you have a
whole generation of record buyers. But the band situation in America is rough, because of the way the
music industry sits at the moment. A lot of good bands break up because they're stuck into being that
band, by the record company.
And people want to identify them on that vibe alone. They expect you not to go outside of those
boundaries.
So naturally, someone says, I wanna do this, and someone says, I wanna do that. They can still do that,
and they can still be a band, if they just started out that way in the beginning. I think doing sessions
helped us to look at things that way because there were times when only one or two of us would play
on a track, while another person was doing something else, maybe engineering the track.
(The firemen are all unconscious now, just limp heaps at Wimbish's and Leblanc's feet. The smoke is
thicker than ever.)
We're like business partners and consultants amongst ourselves. There's a definite foundation here as
Fats Comet, a group of four people who have an outlook and goal of what we wanna do. We all have
different involvements to keep us busy, but we still pull all of us in and bust out the project, or whatever.
Everybody's an individual, and when you have that type of freedom when you collectively get together,
there's a much better understanding. It was real satisfying when the Fats Comet situation really got
—together, it was like a scapegoat for all the stuff that everybody, collectively and individually, wanted to do.
It's the avenue to whatever, it's like, there are no restrictions in this vibe. We just keep putting the stuff
out.
(Wimbish starts pouring gasoline over the TNT. He strikes a match. Leblanc pounds frenetic sixteenth
notes on the kick drum. They're committed, cool and in control, but how long can they keep this stuff up?
Watch out for the new Tackhead and Fats Comet LPs; the groove'll be enough to beat you to the ground.)
Curtain
Directed by Don Chow
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TOWN PUMP
66 Water Street Gastown  683-6695
OCTOBER   1986      15 ©Hi/Wfc
IT WAS EVENING, SEPT. 15, 1986,
twilight, just before the death of the day.
I was walking down Powell Street on my
way to that corner store that sells boiled
eggs, when I noticed a BCTV van just outside
the Savoy. I thought maybe something exciting
was happening, so I went inside.
I walked around, surrepitiously looking for
signs of uproar, and I was just about to leave
when I noticed this big sign with the word
SHINDIG boldly printed across it. I'd heard
about this CITR-Shindig thing, so I decided
to check it out. I guess I lucked out because
I found out that the Savoy had incentive plans
for people who arrive before nine. I *couldn't
resist; I had a couple of drinks over a Disc-
order.
By the time the first band started their set,
the place was full and, word had it, there was
a huge line-up outside. Johnny Chrome were
tight (so were the lead singer's pants). They
(the band, now her trousers) received enthusiastic audience response but in this fallen
world of mutability and mortality, appearances
can be deceiving. Johnny Chrome came in
third.
Between bands, this guy hopped up on
stage and offered people free beer for funny
jokes. I was beginning to slur so I didn't put
my considerable talents to the test. Nevertheless, several others did try, and some of
them won.
And eventually Second Skin, the second
band, started to roar. They sounded pretty
good (kind of like REM, kind of original).
Maybe they'll start getting airplay on CITR. I
hope so. They came in second.
Which means, of course, that the third
band, Stubborn Blood, won. They blazed onto the stage with an energetic set of rock 'n
roll that the audience really dug. People got
up and danced and had a super gnarly good
time. Stubborn Blood go on to compete for big
prizes and rock star notoriety at the Shindig
semi-finals, October 6th.
I go on to wonder how any normal person
could not have the best Monday night of their
life just be dropping by the Savoy. Even BCTV
were there.
—Julia
♦*^^*^^^k^^%
1st Prize
24 hrs. Recording Time
24-track at Mushroom Studios
B & W Music Video from
Zeitgeist Video Productions.
2nd Prize
24 hrs. Recording Time
16-track at Bullfrog Studios
3rd Prize
24 hrs. Recording Time
8-track at Scape Studios.
— and —
a D330 BT Microphone
from Commercial Electronics
i
OCT. |31
No contest night
Physical Spaghetti
Soreheads
TBA
OCT-2Q!
Bruised and Stupid
FYF
Equinox
Semi finals
Stubborn Blood
Winners of Sept. 22
Winners of Sept. 29
K
oct.2-7!
Oversoul Seven
Zelnizk Experience
The Bottom Line
16      DISCORDER October
3/4 DEATH SENTENCE
with San Fran's SEA HAGS
10/11 NO FUN with THt REPTILES (yay!)
17/18 From Toronto COWBOY JUNKIES w/guests
24/25 Jason Grant's Birthday Party with very
special guests and friends.
31/1 Bat Cave Night with DER MITTELGANG
I LIVE MUSIC IN THE LOUNGE 1
I   FRIDAYS FROM 10:30-SATURDAYS FROM 11:30 P.M.    \
ARTS CLUB THEATRE   1181 SEYMOUR  683-0151
FMSsWALLYSI!
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Musical Terrorism     ^ond^ e^^gs a-9j
The Perry Como Cowichan Sweater Experience
(MONDAY EVENINGS 9-11)
S.I; US ION (WEDNESDAY  12-3 PM)
BEHIND THE BEYOND   (Wednesday evenings 7-9)
BlaCk Plague RadiO (Wednesday 9-u pm)
Dark QhadOWS        (Thursday 9-u pm)
"LIKE MAD RONNIE IT'S A LOVE OR HATE KINDA  THING"
S.F.U. RADIO  CJIV
FM-CABLE <?4.5
"Vancouver's
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alternative"
24\-31Z7
OCTOBER   1986      17 BEHIND
THE
DIAL
Hello Stranger!
CITR HAS HIRED a Program Co-ordinator,
though we don't actually know what this
means. Will there actually be a decrease in
on-air stupidity? Will all our DJs have to learn
to speak English? Will we drastically alter our
music programming and go stereo Country &
Western?
Maybe Phil Menger knows (he probably
doesn't). One thing is certain. He will be influencing the nature of CITR's overall programming in a substantial way. His background in radio (particularly in news and
public affairs) is extensive, and currently includes freelance work with the CBC (they're
the ones who Brian Mulroney thinks are communists).
So if things get better, you'll know who might
tnMor+on'i Continuing Attempt* to Woo Lorettct, He Bufi APtirofJohn Fluevog
VANCOUVER 852 Granville Street, 688-2828
John Fluevog Shoes Ltd:
SEATTLE 1611 First Avenue, 441-1065
k M the Selection
and Twice as Hip;
738-3232
be responsible. If they don't, the old cow was
probably too sick to save anyway (who said
that?). Good luck, Phil. Think of it as Purgatory
which at least means it's not Hell. Not yet
anyway.
Could There Be More To Life?
IT'S OCTOBER, harvest time. The solstice is
past. The pagans are on the loose. Decay is
in. Wild mood swings should be encouraged
(they certainly can't be avoided); so you took
a chance you know deep down inside you
never should have taken. You grabbed a copy
of this suspect little magazine, and the scarey
part is, you're still holding it (you must be if
you're reading this), and you've begun to
seriously wonder: could there be more?
There is, of course. As with all ever-un-
folding-flowers and bottomless pits (we think
we're somewhere in between), there's a whole
lot more to CITR than meets the eye or ear.
Indeed, for a mere $20 for UBC students or
$30 for community members (that's you, Vancouver!), you can join CITR, become a member of the UBC Radio Club, support radio for
normal people, become a living, breathing,
vitally concerned and aware human being.
Seriously.
Your membership gives you access to training in radio skils, top-notch equipment, and
possibly (no promises) the opportunity to inflict yourself (aurally) on an unsuspecting yet
needy public. And if you join now, you have
the option of receiving the CITR 50th Anniversary membership package. Included are a
snappy bumpersticker, some swell buttons, a
CITR operating manual, and a special 50th
Anniversary T-shirt (all for only $30; that's including the membership).
You are not a fool. How could you say no?
Attention World Travellers!
PLANNING A TRIP to Tibet? How about
Baltimore? Princeton? The West Edmonton
Mall? It doesn't matter where. The important
thing is, Discorder needs you. As with all print
conspiracies whose end goal is to completely
subvert world order and bring in a new era of
unchecked barbarism (you didn't read this),
Discorder has to first get out to the world. Unfortunately, our budget does not allow for'
clandestine air drops (we can't afford the fuel);
and that's where you come in. Seeing as how
you're going there anyway (Seattle for instance) why not drag a bundle of Discorders
along?
Know what it's like to export subversion, to
risk your life and reputation for a truly noble
cause, to get fresh painter's ink all over your
hands. Please do give us a call if you can
possibly help (228-3017; ask for Station Manager Harry Hertscheg). Otherwise, there will
be nuclear war, and you'll have only yourself
to blame, so there.
CITR Presents:
Oct. 3:Grapes of Wrath/Bolero Lava/The
Waterwalk SUB BALLROOM, UBC
Oct. 4:Gene Loves Jezebel (with Der
Mlttlegang) Town Pump, Gastown
And of course Shindig, every Monday night
at the Savoy.
18      DISCORDER ON
DIAL
CITRfml02cablel00
WEEKDAY REGULARS
7:30 am   Sign-On
8:00 am    WAKE-UP REPORT
News, sports and weather.
Wm am BREAKFAST REPORT
News, sports and weather followed
by GENERIC REVIEW and INSIGHT
12:00 pm HIGH PROFILE.
1:00 pm   LUNCH REPORT
News, sports and weather.
3:00 pm   AFTERNOON SPORTSBREAK
5:00 pm    DINNER MAGAZINE
News, sports and weather followed
by GENERIC REVIEWS, iNSIGHT and
a DAILY FEATURE.
am    Sign-Off
WEEKDAY HIGHLIGHTS
MONDAYS
THE JAZZ SHOW
9:00 pm-12:30 am
Vancouver's longest-running prime time Jazz
program, featuring all the classic players, the
occasional interview, and local music news.
Hosted by the ever-suave Gavin Walker. Album Features: 11:00 pm.
06 Oct Thelonious Monk at Town
(1959)—this concert was a significant one in Monk's career as it
represented the first formal presentation of his unique music. Monk and
his Orchestra and some great
soloists... Charlie Rouse, Pepper
Adams, Phil Woods, Donald Byrd
one fine evening of jazz.
73 Oct.   "Complete Communion" is the title
of a fine and unfortunately forgotten
album by Don Cherry and Gato Bar-
bileri. This record, done in 1965 will
sound ad fresh as tomorrow and
properly place this album near the
top rank of trumpeter, composer
Don Cherry's output.
20 Oct  "The Far East Suite" by Duke Ellington has long been recognized as
one of Duke's masterpieces. It was
created and recorded late in his life
(1967) before death and retirement
took some of the best voices from
the band. Duke with Johnny
Hodges, Paul Gonsalves, Jimmy
Hamilton etc. This is a Jazz Feature'
repeat.
27 Oct.  "Outward Bound" was the title of
Eric Dolphy's first album under his
own name. The record catapulated
one of Jazz music's most important
and controversial reedman to fame.
Eric was the master of the alto saxophone, bass clarinet and flute and
in his short life opened many ears
to new sounds. We will also hear
some unissued takes from this most
important recording debut.
TUESDAYS
THE EDGE ON FOLK
8:00-9:30 pm
Vancouver's only Prime Time radio show
featuring traditional music from around the
world. Tune in and hear anything from the
"Rogue" Folk of The Pogues, to Celtic music
e.g. Boys of the Lough, to singer/songwriters
of the highest calibre. Join host Steve Edge
on his weekly sojourn along The Edge of the
folk scene!
Features during the month are:—
07 Oct  Ferron. A wonderful singer/
songwriter from B.C. She has taken
a year off, but returne to action last
month. Here's a sample of what
we've been missing
14 Oct   Dave Swarbrick. Stalwart fiddler
with seminal UK folk-rockers Fair-
port Convention for many years, he
now heads another fine band,
Whippersnapper.
21 Oct  Figgy Duff & Red Island. Two of
Newfoundland's best bands. Recorded 'live' by CHMR Radio in St.
John's.
28 Oct A look back at a Summer of Folk
Festivals and an appraisal of Folklife
at Expo 86 — oasis or barren
wasteland?
BUNKUM OBSCURA
9:30-11:00 pm
An eclectic mishmash of audio distrubances,
playlist and requests presented by a former
circus entertainer who was fired from the
cannon one too many times.
LOVE PEACE AND VIOLENCE
11:00 pm-1.00 am
Imagine phone books that drip blood when
you try to tear them in two, empty plastic garbage pails that smell of blind rabbit flesh,
empty skulls all piled up and arranged in
rows like hedges near the Parliament
buildings. Imagine radio that is past not caring. Imagine words so complex it takes three
grown men to pronounce them. It's later.than
you think.
PLAYLOUD
Late night 1:00-4:00 am
The anquish of an uprooted plant is not
diminished by its impalpable lightness. The
world is a metaphor for its own suffering.
Aural surgery performed by Larry Thiessen.
WEDNESDAYS
JUST LIKE WOMEN
5:15-6 pm
Tune in for 45 minutes of invigorating and
stimulating interviews, news and music. For
anyone interested in women's issues or learning more about them.
ROCK: THE UNDERWORLD
6:00-8:00 pm
Digest your din-din in rockin' style. Mike Dennis and the Godfather (Jimmy Pattison Jr)
spin the latest and hippest in the rock 'n roll
underground. A typical desert may feature
Husker Du pudding or Sonic Youth cheesecake, and don't forget from 7:30-8:00, we
feature the "hellfire club" when we play all
the cool classics, from acid rock to rockabily
to punk.
THE AFRICAN SHOW
8:00-9:30 pm
Catch the latest in African news and Music
with Umerah Patrick Onukwulu and Todd
Langmuir. News at 8:30. Special feature
weekly at 9:00. Onward-Harambe.
ARE YOU TALKING TO ME?
9:30midnight
Music and paranoid delusions. Twenty minute
workouts for marginal psychotics. Travis B
delivers music for people with an attitude
problem.
THE KNIGHT AFTER
Midnight to 4:00 am
Music to clobber Yuppies by (and anyone
wearing floral baggy shorts). Featuring radio
shows traded with alternative stations in
Europe and the U.S., and every 5 weeks a
new episode of MUSIC FROM THE TAR
PITS, an ode to early seventies recreational-
substance rock. Regular guests include
MOAMMAR K., the Prince of Wales and
Lyndon Lerouche.
~^i
OCTOBER  1986     19 THURSDAYS
PARTY WITH ME, PUNKER!
3:00-5:00 pm
Join Rock Action and Crusty Love for cool
tunes and special guests and features.
TOP OF THE BOPS
8:00-9:00 pm
Screaming guitars, throbbing basses, pounding drums, pumping pianos and howling
saxes: Top of the Bops has them all, and you
can have them too!
TEENAGE TORPOR
9:00-11:00 pm
Feeling like a lost pair of Boxer shorts in the
laundromat of oblivion? You're not alone.
MEL BREWER PRESENTS
11:00 pm-Midnight
At long last, something to fill in the gap between Hill Street Blues and David Letterman.
Join Pat, Jay and Jerry in the weekly
menage of local music, interviews, mike
squeals and general ineptness.
FRIDAYS
FRIDAY MORNING MAGAZINE
10:30-11:30 am
Join host Kirby Hill for interviews, features,
and a taste of the exotic. The White Wolf
lives!
POWER CHORD
3:30-5:00 pm
Vancouver's only true metal show, featuring
the underground alternative to mainstream
metal: local demo tapes, imports and other
rarities, plus album give-aways.
THE COCKTAIL PARTY
5:30-8:00 pm
The summer replacement for the Saturday
night P.J. Party. Mike Mines & Robin Razzell
invite you to a world of bibulous pleasure via
the newest psychedelic sounds from both
sides of the pond. Just add ice and shake.
THE BIG SHOW
9:30 pm-midnight
Elevate your BPMs with Robert Shea and AI
Big. And shine your shoes, for God's sake.
THE VISITING PENGUIN SHOW
Late night 1:00-4:00 am
Now, finally, a reason to stay up past the BIG
SHOW on Friday nights. Yes, Andreas Kitz-
mann and Steve Gibson dish out requests,
new music, interviews and selfless egotism.
WEEKEND HIGHLIGHTS
WEEKEND REGULARS
8:00 am    Sign-On
Noon       BRUNCH REPORT
News, sports and weather.
empm   SAT./SUN. MAGAZINE
News, sports and weather, plus
GENERIC REVIEW, analysis of current affairs and special features.
4:00 am    Sign-Off
SATURDAYS
EARLY MUSIC SHOW
7:30-10:00 am
Have breakfast to music from the Medieval,
Renaissance and Baroque periods, played on
strange and exotic instruments. With host
Paul Smith.
NEOFILE
Noon-4:00 pm
A rundown of the newest, most exciting and
insipid releases raked in during the week at
CITR. Join music directors and charismalep-
tic hosts Don Chow and Kevin Smith for an
eclectic musical pig-out, with occasional interviews, live mixes, and peripheral relevance.
PROPAGANDA!
6:30-9:00 pm
An eclectic mix of interviews, reviews, music,
humour, High Profiles, and other features
with Mike Johal.
CITR SPORTS PRESENTS
Pregame Show 7:20 pm
Kickoff 7:30 pm
Live Thunderbird hockey play by play from
Thunderbird Arena.
04 Oct. vs. University of Manitoba
TUNES 'R' US
Late night 1:00-4:00 am
Music, Music, Music, Handyman Bob, Music,
. . ... ._«
mmsa
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Introducing COLLECTOR'S R.P.M. Costume Rentals
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20      DISCORDER Music, My Favorite Album, Music, Music,
Experimental To Classical, Teddy Kelowna
presents, and yes more music.
SUNDAYS
MUSIC OF OUR TIME
8:00 am-Noon
Talk about opening a can of worms. The
month-long concentraton on Canadian
classical music has expanded to fill all
available time. Special features will include
the Centennial opera Louis Riel, by Harry
Somers and hopefully a listen to the music
and words of some up-and-coming Vancouver
composers. With your hosts Tyler Cutforth
and Paul Smith.
ROCKERS SHOW
Noon-3:00 pm
The best in Roots, Rock, Reggae, DJ and
Dub music with your hosts George (Family
Man) Barrett and Collin Hepbourn.
MICHAEL WILLMORE'S ROCK TALK
3:00-6:00 pm
Authentic Rock 'N' Roll from the 1950s and
1960s featuring many collectors' items and
rock rarities you'd never hear anywhere else.
FAST FORWARD
9:00 pm-1:00 am
Mark Mushet searches the world over for
experimental, minimalist, avant-garde, electronic, and other non-mainstream sounds.
LIFE AFTER BED
1 am-4 am
The return of the nightmare from the people
you're parents warned you about. Ugly radio
has returned. Warn your avocados.
Floyd's Corner—Country and Western with
Jeff G. Starts at 2:00 a.m.
ft
OCTOBER  1986     21 ovefMenAitot
at flmonca's Lunch Counters g^f
•I thina people tnat use toilet
seat covers are saying to the
whole world that they're afraid
to get really involved with
life.-
62BfljJ6flflflA»,
8t Amenta's Lunch Counters w
"Went to the zoo yesterday, but
they only had four animals - I
was so shocked! You'd think
they'd have aore than just the
four!*
BjeflBefifiBAs
rt Amenta's Lunch Counters g^f
'I have one of those digital
clocks on ay desk but I have to
check the wall clock to feel
really good about the tine."
22      DISCORDER
CITRfml02cablel00
TOP AIRPLAY ALBUMS
SCREAMING BLUE
MESSIAHS
THE DEAD MILKMEN
VELVET UNDERGROUND
THE JAZZ BUTCHER
R.E.M.
THE WOODENTOPS
SHUFFLE DEMONS
GUADALCANAL DIARY
KEITH LEBLANC
54-40
GAME THEORY
EUGENE CHADBOURNE
VARIOUS ARTISTS
SWEET HONEY IN THE
ROCK
THE BODEANS
THE SMITHS
HONEYMOON KILLERS
JOHN LURIE
VARIOUS ARTISTS
VARIOUS ARTISTS
VARIOUS ARTISTS
Gun-Shy
Eat Your Paisley
Another View
Bloody Nonsense
Life's Rich Pageant
Giant
Streetniks
Jamboree
Major Malfunction
54-40
The Big Shot Chronicles
Corpses of Foreign War
Good To Go soundtrack
The Other Side
Love & Hope & Sex & Dreams
The Queen is Dead
Love American Style
Stranger Than Paradise
Fresh Beats
Imminent 3
Outnumbered By Sheep
TOP SINGLES DEMO TAPES
THE THE
THE FALL
RICHARD H. KIRK
MPENDO MOJA
RAY CONDO & HARD-
ROCK GONERS
LOVE & ROCKETS
FATS COMET
DAVID SYLVIAN
GARY CLAIL &
TACKHEAD
RUN DMC
SKINNY PUPPY
BILLY BRAGG
ZODIAC MINDWARP
JOOLZ
BOLERO LAVA
GARY GLITTER &
GIRLSCHOOL
NICK CAVE
HE SAID
BLACK FLAG
FATS COMET
Sweet Bird of Truth
Living Too Late
Hipnotic
Get Up and Fight
Skala Bop Baby/How Come It
Kunkalini Express
Stormy Weather
Taking The Veil
Hard Left
Walk This Way/My Adidas
Dig It
Ljevi Stubbs' Tears
Wild Child
Mad Bad & Dangerous
Move a Groove
I'm the Leader of the Gang
The Singer
Pump
Annihilate
Bop Bop/Zoop loop	
WEA
FEVER
POLYGRAM
GLASS/Polygram
I.R.S./MCA
RGH.TRD./CBS
STUBBY
ELEKTRA/WEA
WORLD
REPRISE/WEA
RATIONAL
FUNDAMENTAL
RATIONAL
FLYING FISH
SLASH/WEA
RGH. TRD./WEA
FUR
CRAMMED
CHRYSALIS UK
FOOD
FLYING NUN
SOME BIZARRE
BGRS. BNQUT.
ROUGH TRADE
**DEMO**
**DEMO**
BGRS. BNQUT.
LOGARHYTHM
VIRGIN UK
WORLD
Profile/Polygram
Nettwerk/Capitol
GO
FOOD
**DEMO**
LAVAROCK
I AM
MUTE
MUTE
SST
WORLD ©unhid
VERDICT
Nekrophile presents Muzak for the Happy Dead
MAIL ORDER CASSETTES RE-
main the single best source of
alternative music for anyone who
is interested in getting off the beaten track
completely (or as in my case, the deep end).
Prices tend to be cheaper and there's such
an endless variety and volume that record
stores simply can't be expected to keep up.
You do run the risk of getting burned; but
generally you reap what you sow.
This is certainly true of Nekrophile Rekords
in Vienna. Their catalogue is a fascinating
(often disturbing) conversation piece on its
own. As well, a wealth of literature concerning the beliefs of Nekrophile and the organization known as The Church of 2CR11 is provided. These are outlined in a Document containing 23 statements. They range from the
use of Sexual Energy as the only true energy
source at human disposal to Death as a function of Life and the basic doctrine of Thelema:
"Do what thou willt". The catalogue listed
below is current to March, 1986. '
NCR 01—Korps Katatonik: Subklinikal
Leukoktoipy Aphrenia Spasmophilik Lysso-
phobo Asphyxia Sinister Lethal Anorex
I haven't heard this one. They appear elsewhere and what I've heard is uneventful, faintly mystical and pleasantly industrial.
NCR 02—Genesis P. Orridge/Stan Bingo:
. What's History
This is the soundtrack to the film "In the
Shadow of the Sun" by Derek Jarman. It has
appeared in another form and is sometimes
attributed to Throbbing Gristle. It also features
Genesis' dog, Tanith.
NCR 03—The Beast 666: An International
Compilation
All compilations have a tendency to be
endemically spotty. This one is no exception.
As the title would imply, all the pieces are
associated directly or indirectly with Aleister
Crowley. Some tracks are quite frightening—
notably the two by Stigma Diaboli and Toy
Muzik. Two tracks by Hunting Lodge lead
toward a less abstract form, and rhythm is explored a little more obviously. Other groups
include Mr. Vile Thumb, Zero Kama, Coil,
Korpse Katatonik & Kathan Spiss.
NCR 05—Zos Kia/Coil: Transparent
I haven't heard this one either. Zos Kia consists of John Balance, John Gosling and
someone named Min. Most of the cuts were
recorded live at either the Berlin Atonal
Festival or the Magenta Club in London, and
as such the production quality is probably
suspect.
NCR 06—The Archangels of Sex Rule the
Destruction of the Regime: Compilation
Don't you love the title?
The only editorial information (aside from
credits) on this cassette is the following: "I am
the Lord of the Double Wand of Power: the
wand of the Force of Coph Nia—but my left
hand is empty, for I have crushed a Universe
& nought remains. All 111.72". The standout
tracks for me were by Sleepchamber, Met-
gumbnerbone & Zero Kama. The other tracks
are by Ain Soph, Ewald Spiss & Coming to
Now.
NCR 07—Zero Kama:  The Secret Eye of
L.A.Y.L.A.H.
I bought this cassette on the strength of a
review in Options Magazine. It said in part that
this was a group which had the involvement
of David Tibet 93. As it turns out, both Tibet
and Zero Kama deny this vehemently. All
music is done with instruments made from
human bones (drums rfrom skulls, flutes,
pipes, skullcaps and other types of percussion, xylophones and trumpets from thigh
bones). Zero Kama are very much involved in
cabaJism, and with all the extreme paraphernalia of mysticism and magick, it could be
relatively easy to dismiss the music without
first listening to it. More would be the loss
because it ranges from hypnotic to ecstatic-
all hauntingly beautiful and very relaxing.
The catalogue also lists a videocassette to
accompany The Secret Eye of L.A.Y.L.A.H.
Evidently it will be 56 minutes long and so far
only one minute has been recorded. Also in
preparation is a cassette by Coming to Now,
tentatively entitled Closer to Silence.
The emphasis is all the literature and catalogue is definitely on the Crowleyan imagery
rather than the music, which unfortunately
might preclude any attempt by a doubtful
listener/buyer to keep an open mind. This
would be a shame because most of the music
is really very good. My only complaint might
be that the recording level is quite low. Go
ahead and write to them. Best bet: The Secret
Eye of L.A.Y.L.A.H. It has the dual advantages
of being perfectly listenable and providing
endless gossip for your mother, neighbours
and friends.
Nekrophile Rekords
P.O. Box 79
1080 Vienna, Austria
—Larry Thiessen
OCTOBER  1986     23 Honeymoon Killers
TLove American Style
HOSE THAT SHOULD NOT BUY THIS
record
• Firemen with no necks and struggling facial
hair.
• Department store sales-girls who read Cosmopolitan and Vogue during coffee breaks.
•Older people with high blood pressure.
•Sports oriented, steroid addicts.
•Young Socreds.
Those that SHOULD buy this record
•Goths that pass the height of hair test at
"Channel One"
•People who know all the episodes of STAR
TREK by heart
• Necrophiliacs, disenchanted angst-ridden
nihilists, anarchists, criminals, lumpenprole-
tariats, taxi drivers, persons with no blood
pressure
•Arts-oriented, never on time, eclectic connoisseurs of alcohol
•Yuppies on heroin
Slab of sound, demented guitars and pleading vocals are trademarks of the New York
sound. Jerry, Sally and Lisa scream a pure
black wall of noise that reminds you of your
worst bad-acid trip while watching Lou Reed/
Velvet Underground videos at half speed.
(You've had that same bad trip? Amazing,
like... cosmic awareness, Jung, Dr. Ruth). I've
listened to Love American Style in the car, at
home, at work, at play, and the brutal realization is that this record rates right up there with
the best of SONIC YOUTH, LIVE SKULL and
GLEN BRANCA.
Self-produced hysteria, the Honeymoon
Killers are definitely prime candidates for early
terminal burn-out. The "Batman" song which
kicks off side 2 is extremely lame. It pales
beside the rest of the record which rocks,
dirges and otherwise screams to some of the
best feedback since JESUS AND  MARY
CHAIN. This in not an easy listening, melodic
record. When played at maximum volume (as
it should be), all your house plants will die and
your cat will leave home forever; roommates
will move out and you will be forgotten, depressed, lonely and poor for the rest of your
life.
So... while you are sitting around your very
small, dark room listening to Love American
Style, all by yourself, drunk... high on every
chemical known to man... remember, things
can always get worse.
Back to who should or shouldn't buy this
record. I keep thinking of someone who is
organizing a funeral for a friend, a friend who
while under the influence of ether tried to
skateboard under a moving bus. I keep thinking of Elvis dying because he couldn't take
a shit, and Muamar Quadaffi wishing he could
be a girl.
—Travis B.
African Head Charge
Off The Beaten Track
On-U Sound
Some months ago I had heard that Britain's On-U Sound label had ceased to
exist, that receivership or bankruptcy was imminent, if not already in the works. The sources, several of them, were reliable. Another
potentially brilliant label had apparently gone
under. Seeing as this sort of thing is "par for
the course" in the world of independent labels,
I thought it best to just lay the wreath and
move on...
But no sooner do I accept the passing of
On-U than appears a NEW African Head
Charge L.P. by the name of "Off the Beaten
Track", produced by Adrian Sherwdod and
released on the On-U Sound label. The pressing is German and there is a new contact address for the label, but it appears as if it's
I   >tt CE-X-C-E • L- L-E-N -T) xr
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DISCORDER business as usual at On-U. It's at this point
that I realize that my only reason for mourning the departure of On-U was the anticipated
drought concerning the availability of records
by African Head Charge and its offshoots such
as The Missing Brazilians, or continued collaborations with the likes of Annie Anxiety.
My first introduction to African Head Charge
was to their third L.P. "Drastic Season". It was
the most accomplished and sonically engaging dub-related music I'd ever heard. And
while everyone is creaming themselves over
the now formulatic production style of ADRIAN
SHERWOOD, African Head Charge remained in control of an individual sound that
seemed impossible to bastardize, even at the
heavy hands of Sherwood. The music was
thick, steamy, and exotic and for me it leant
a degree of credibility to the "dub" genre. Let
it be said at this point that I normally consider
reggae (and its offspring) to be the most stagnant and regressive form of so-called revolutionary music in the known universe. The
music of African Head Charge has changed
that view somewhat, if only because they are
aware of enough studio technique to avoid
dousing every little squeek with more cheesey
echo effects than you'd find in an empty well,
the most common and irritating tendency of
most dub "artists".
Off the beaten track it is. The music of this
astonishing and somewhat enigmatic group
of individuals is dense, atmospheric, and is
capable of moving one to pulsate quietly in
the corner. Dance music, yes. Mindless dub
vocals, no. All "vocals" on this L.P. consist of
tastefully injected "found" tapes. A barking
dog is transformed into an incredibly well
manipulated "vocalist" on a piece called
"Some Bizarre". Add to this climate a middle
eastern melodic sense, a didjerido, a touch'
from the Big Continent and you have a complete, rich, and rewarding L.P.
"Off the Beaten Track" should not remain
so for long.
—Mark Mushet
The Hafler Trio
Seven Hours Sleep
Lay 17
* * THIS PROJECT RE-AFFIRMS THE need
for a complete change in our thinking
about sound and its relation to the rest of our
perception."
Yes, this statement, etched in the vinyl surrounding the label of "Seven Hours Sleep",
is perfectly true. There is precious little
thought given to the nature of perception, to
our sonic conditioning, to the sounds in our
environment, to the subject of psycho-acoustics (how sound interacts with the brain). Finally, there is someone in the so-called alternative music scene who is prepared to ask a
few questions.
Enter: The Hafler Trio. Andrew McKenzie,
Christopher Watson, and Dr. Edward Moolen-
beek (probably of Dutch origin, if in fact he
really exists). "Seven Hours Sleep" is a double L.P. on Belgium's wonderfully prolific and
consistently brilliant LAYLAH label. It is their
third release and should probably be considered their "magnum opus" as it combines
the best elements and sonic samplings from
their previous releases on Doublevision and
LAYLAH. They have managed to put out a
very coherent, well recorded, and well orchestrated journey into the world of sleepless
dreams and the surreal.
In this world, an entrancing chord will suddenly be chopped into a cacophonous crowd
scene, that will fade into a dripping sewer
which will, in turn, collide with an equally
disparate aural scenario. Surprisingly, it all
meshes perfectly and succeeds, if you are
prepared, in provoking some thought towards
changing one's views on what constitutes a
piece of music. No great revelation but, for
many, a necessary step towards the appreciation of new music (a dodgey term at best).
The Trio have maintained a low profile since
their inception two years ago. Each release
is accompanied by liner notes so awash in
psuedo academic dissertation on the "nature
of perception" and mythical sound recording
devices and laboratories that it can't be taken
as anything but an elaborate (though effective) joke, unpretentious despite itself. If some
reference points are necessary, the most important one would be Christopher Watson's
past involvement with Cabaret Voltaire. Watson was the group's tape specialist and, as
far as I'm concerned, their greatest asset. If
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OCTOBER  1986     25 one analyzes Voltaire's more obscure side (circa Red Mecca), it becomes obvious that the
tape medium was crucial to its success. Watson left the "Cabs" just before their gross
deterioration. He went to work in television,
apparently. Hmmm.
"Seven Hours Sleep", with the accompanying book of fragmented and obscure dream
sequences, is fascinating. The only improvement I could forsee would be to have the
record consist of a shallow triple groove that
intersects at different points so that it would
never be the same combination of sounds
with each listen. It may take a while to fully
appreciate the disjointed approach that the
Hafler Trio take to achieve whatever ends they
hope for, but THIS attempt is easily worth the
price of admission.
—Mark Mushet
U.T.F.O.
Skeezer Pleezer
FOR MANY PEOPLE, RAP/GO-GO/FUNK/
hip-hop New York and D.C. based music
represents the height of repetition, for others
it represents the ultimate in "hittin' and holdin'
good to go raw sound." Either way you hear
it, funk and its latest incarnations have branched out and maintained their street level sensibilities without going downtown, so to speak.
This music reflects modern life in the inner
cities of American, the moods and desires of
the young (especially black) people. Often this
raw sound lapses into the purely and completely trivial: how to get down, what girl is hot,
what it means to work that body, etc, etc. But
after all, we all need to get down once in a
while.
U.T.F.O
U.T.F.O. is a new young band. They are produced by a collective known as Full Force, and
as such they are individually involved in a few
other related funk projects, such as Real Roxanne with Howie Tee, and Whistle. Recording
and production at Full Force is a hands-on experience, a very cooperative and non-dictorial
method of making music; thus the personal
and very informal way that its records come
across.
U.T.F.O. are not original in fashion, outstan
ding in personality or even tremendously issue-conscious (they certainly are poise conscious, see back cover), but they have really
expanded the beat box rappin' scratchin'
sound. The format is predictable—drum
machine, bass, vocals—yet it's combined with
lots more character and soul than most.
(That's James Brown style soul, not Aretha
Franklin).
Beat of course is the prevailing criteria for
funkiness, and variety is the attention-getter.
Skeezer Pleezer possesses beat extraordinaire, from groove one to the closing throbs.
Variety is maintained (a contradiction in
terms?—not in this case) through creative alterations on timing and interesting combinations of rhythm and rapping. The instrumentation (one frequently lacking aspect of funk-
rap) is fluent, place throughout the raps and
rhythms with thoughtful pizazz.
Positive as my comments may be, I don't
recommend an overdose of Skeezer Pleezer
to those not already devoted to funk. (Do you
want your life to turn into a Wagnerian version
of The Big Show? I thought not). But if you
have changed your name to Chill Mix, Joel
Beat, or some other relevantly modern moniker, and you carry a huge ghetto blaster and
worship the Grandmaster, then by all means
throw down heavily with U.T.F.O., a lot. Even
if you are not such a person (few of us are),
somewhere inside you cognitive centre for
assimilationof rhythmically induced beat instances, there is a toe tap with U.T.F.O. written on it!
—Robert Shea
«" ■■ *
;^ ^H^v;.v:'
= \ * *!  N ■ * L* ii *" ii" " * * \,»*x
H   / The Lounge Lizards
Big Heart (Live in Tokyo)
Island
THE DOOR TO MY OFFICE SWUNG
open and Effie Perrine poked her head
in. "There are some gentlemen here to see
you, Mr. Marlowe."
"Who are they, angel?"
"They call themselves the Lounge Lizards.
They're musicians, Mr. Marlowe." Poor old Effie, I could see why Spade had fired her.
OK, send 'em in." I leaned back in my chair
and wondered what these joes would want.
They'd probably had their equipment ripped
off and would want me to recover it. As if I
didn't have enough to do, what with dames
drowning in lakes, people falling out of high
windows, and my partner getting shot yesterday. LA can be a tough town, if you live right.
I sat up then, because seven guys had just
squeezed themselves into the rabbit hutch I
call an office. I looked at them. They looked
right back at me. As loung lizards, they had
a long career in front of them: here New York,
Tokyo, even. One of them stepped forward.
"Hi. My name's Lurie, John Lurie. This is
my bro, Evan. I play alto sax; Evan plays piano.
I'd also like to introduce Erik Sanko on bass,
Doug Bowne on. . ."
"Skip it. What'd you birds want?"
"Glad you asked. I have here a copy of our
latest record and I, and the other band
members, would like your opinion. "Lurie
threw me the disc. I read it. Big Heart by the
Lounge Lizards. So what, I thought, but I put
it on the turntable anyway.
The first cut, "Big Heart," was an upbeat,
raucous instrumental heavy on the sax. I like
it, and turned up the volume, in case the room
had been bugged while I'd been in Frisco.
"Nice," I acknowledged, "but why my opinion? Huh? You guys are pretty hip, what do
you want with opinions?"
Evan Lurie spoke, "We want to be stars."
I ignored him and listened to the next piece,
called "Hair Street." It was more bluesy, with
a nice meditative middle break, and I found
myself snapping my fingers to the beat.
"Well?" The brothers Lurie spoke as one.
I motioned them to be quiet while I listened
to the rest of side one. "Fat House" was more
off-kilter jazz and then the side finished with
"It Could Have Been Very Beautiful," which
I liked. I liked it a lot, with its slow, seductive
pace, and menancing underlying piano beat.
"It's good," I said, "Maybe even real good.
But even if I do like it, that don't mean nothing
outside this door."
"Listen to the other side," Lurie number one
said.
OK. "I listened to the other side. "They Were
Insane," eight minutes of alternating surrealism and pure dementia, followed by "The
Punch And Judy Tango." This was not quite
connected to reality either. I could feel the
tango deep in the arrangement, but I couldn't
pick it out with my ears. Very nice. The side
wrapped up with a twenty second snippet, and
then I stretched.
"You joes are good, I'll give you that," I said,
"probably too good for your own good. To be
stars, you got to give the public what they
want. And what they want is not imagination,
daring and innovation. They want repetition,
routine, security."
The Luries looked at each other, aghast.
"But, we put everything into that record. We
even went to Tokyo to record it. It's got to sell."
"Hey, sorry, but if you wanted success you
should have released TV themes of the 70s
as sung by Andre the Giant and Hulk Hogan.
Don't worry, it's a good record, some people
will buy it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I got a
murder to solve."
—Iain Bowman
(With apologies to Raymond Chandler)
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OCTOBER   1986     27 foreign
nostalgia
fine cinema
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734-2233
VANCOUVER'S
HOTTEST
FUNK
Safe To Assume
"Ice Under Wraps"
What can be done with bands/artists like
this? Synth based electrobeat stuff that can
be quite interesting, but almost invariably
skewers itself upon the same basic flaw, the
vocals. For some reason, Safe To Assume and
too many others, insist upon extremely serious, and affected vocals. Ail that can be said
is, lose the pretence and put some (pardon
the expression) real emotion into it. Otherwise,
lively interplay of guitar and synth, a few nifty
little effects, and still faily raw and noisy (which
I like).
Flammable Animal
"Brand New Day"
Identity from intriguing female vocals;
sometimes sounds like. . .oh, can't place it
but sure sounds fine. A key to success in the
119
Shalamar
♦ ?* *h
41856 SEYMOUR
683-9602
flesh (write this one down): elicit familiarity
without inviting bored accusations of plagiarism. Pretty darn good sound, and the tune
moves along well.
Mpendo Moja
"Get Up and Fight"/
"Trying To Fool I"
Just what is needed to help round out the
Vancouver music 'scene'; here we have some
LP quality reggae/dub on this local group's
demo. Especially enjoy the dub.
Ted Clark Five
"Nothing Left To Lose"
Cutesy name which they should frisbee as
soon as possible. Energetic guitar rock marred by muddy sound. Not very memorable but
not without merit.
The Bottom Line
"Demolition 23/Lights Go Out"
Two songs connected together by martial
drumming, and are actually quite different.
'Demolition 23' is surprisingly likable for
sor tething from a band I hate. A rockin' little
thing, but unfortunately just an anomaly.
'Lights Go Out" brings back the old Bottom
Line who sound like the only vinyl they've ever
neard is Clash circa "Sandinista" and "Black
Market Clash'. Too bad.
Drunk On Sin
"Little Girl Died"
Zowie, promising feedback geetar. Could be
good, could be abusive, could change my life.
Disappointing. Poor mix saps the life outta this
one; guitar swallered by the voice and drums.
However, vocals are "off" just enough to embody this tune with a character all its own.
Nico & '49 Dance
"Don't Call The Doctor"
The best for last? To hope, to dream. Ah,
well, not exactly. Presenting that ever-so-
common-in-Canada commodity of synth-funk/
pop with a message. Don't care for this socially conscious ditty at all; hey, who am I trying
to kid, I loathe 'Don't Call The Doctor'. Pathetic
music with pathetic singing. Basically meaningless pretention; actually used the line "rich
still gettin' richer." Lightweight, and IvUM do
it much better. This kind of lame pop/funk
should be banned, now. It rots the brain.
—Kevin Smith
28      DISCORDER from p. 30
"CIA" Nancy whispered. "I hate 'em. You
know, they bugged our bedroom. They listen
to Ronnie and I do it at night!"
She then tried to explain to me what exactly she and Ronnie did, but fortunately Jerry
Lewis and Liberace arrrived and pulled her
away. I heard Lee mince, "Tell us what kind
of pj's the Big Guy wears!"
I continued my search for Reagan. In a
guest bedroom a group of TV evangelists were
playing poker. Pat Robertson appeared to be
down by a lot and was chain smoking. I left
to look for a washroom but found it was occupied. Hearing giggling voices inside, I
peered through a crack in the door and saw
Attorney General Edwin Meese and PMRC
head Tipper Gore sitting together on the side
of the bathtub. They were busily tracing their
fingers over a Dead Kennedy's Frankenchrist
poster. As I turned away Frank Sinatra exited
from an adjoining room with Lee lacocca and
several reputed mob figures. Old Blue Eyes
turned and yelled in his best Jersese: "Dutch!
Yule git Carlo his gamblin' loicence by Toos-
day, roight?" Then I heard the voice that
millions of American's worship reply, "Sure,
Frank. No trouble. I'll get the FBI off his back,
too."
I proceeded in the direction of that voice
and discovered an amazing scene. There on
the floor, wearing only a house coat and slippers, sat the President of the United States.
He was surrounded by minions who were
cheering him on as he played with a giant slot
car set. Reagan hooted and whistled and
grabbed jelly beans from a large jar by his
side. Closer inspection of the jar revealed that
its contents were not jelly beans but amphet-
imines. One of the cars rolled off the track and
Reagan screamed. Vice-President George
Bush rushed over and put it back on the track,
but Reagan had now lost interest. He looked
up and started yelling: "Where's Weinberger?"
As if on command Defense Secretary
Caspar Weinberger entered the room with Mr.
T They were both wearing Gaddafi Busters
t-shirts, and Mr. T was carrying a brief case
cuffed to his wrist. Weinberger opened the
case and produced 10 ounces of cocaine. He
smiled at Reagan and in a Maxwell Smart
voice said, "Fresh from Boliva, Chief."
While the gathered politicos waited for
Weinberger to cut the lines, I siddled up
beside Reagan and casually mentioned that
I'd seen him in The Knute Rockne Story.
Reagan smiled and asked me if I liked football. I nodded yes. He then yelled in a loud
hyper voice, "The trouble with football today,
is that they don't know how to tackle. Not like
when I played!"
Reagan left the room and the coke cutting
stopped. Everyone was staring at me, and
George Bush appeared particularly angry.
Reagan returned a moment later wearing an
old Pop Warner leather helmet. In his hand
he carried a football which he tossed to
George Bush. "Somebody snap for Bush. I'll
show you how to tackle."
A Secret Service agent bent dutifully over
the ball. Reagan got into a lineman's stance.
The ball was snapped and Bush just stood
still. Reagan pushed past the Secret Service
agent and nailed Bush in the midsection. The
Vice-President went down hard and rolled on
the floor in pain. Reagan stood up over top
of him and turned to the assembled crowd.
"This is no good. We need more blockers.
Where the hell's that coke? Cap you take
Bush's place."
Tired of this madness I slipped outside and
headed for my car just as Ron Jr. pranced across the lawn dressed in gold spandex. The
Beach Boys were now playing The Halls of
Montezuma. I later heard that the barbecue
broke up around two in the morning with Rea-'
gan receiving snaps from an eager George
Will while demonstrating the Statue of Liberty
play to Sammy Davis Jr. Nancy was last seen
reprising her role in Hellcats of the Navy by
nursing Mr. T who had passed out and was
choking on his gold chains.
Although the events that transpired on
Labor Day may seem shocking, I found them
refreshing. Having seen Mikhail Gorbachev
drop acid during last year's May Day parade,
and now having seen this year's Labor Day
barbecue, my suspicions are now confirmed.
All people in positions of power and authority are insane, as if you didn't already know.
-Jerome Broadway
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Labour Day in Santa Barbara
HOW DO YOU EXPLAIN THE UNEX-
plainable? One minute I'm talking tc
an old high school friend, now working in Washington, and the next I'm in Santa
Barbara, California making the 40 minute
drive up to Ronald Reagan's 688 acre Ran-
cho del Cielo in the Santa Ynez Mountains.
The President throws a very private barbecue
at his ranch, every Labor Day and somehow
I was an invited guest.
I arrived at the isolated ranch around one-
thirty to find the place crowded with familiar
faces. Nancy Reagan was wearing an Annie
Oakley cowgirl outfit and trying to do a Navaho
rain dance. She fell down several times, tried
to swig from an empty bottle of Wild Turkey,
and threw the bottle in the direction of Entertainment Tonight hostess Mary Hart who was
wearing an identical Annie Oakley. Hart, hang
ing on the arm of Chilean strong man Augusto
Pinochet, ignored the missile and continued
to laugh while the General, in a medal bedecked leisure suite, charmed her with tales
of torturing students. I heard him say: "Maybe
you like I should show you how we use the
jumper cables?" Hart laughed and the two
walked off not to be seen again for the rest
of the day. Nancy turned and staggered back
to the ranch house, muttering something
about "that bitch that's wearing my outfit." The
next time I saw her she had changed into an
Annie Lennox-like black leather jump suit.
Off in the distance the Beach Boys were
playing a surf version of God Bless America.
I was about to go watch the band when a red
nosed Secret Service agent, twirling a .38 on
his finger Paladin-style blocked my path. I
braced myself for the obligatory frisking but
instead he whispered, "Weinberger ain't here
yet, so ya may as well hit the bar. It's in the
house. So's the old man." I moved on, wading
through a sea of yuppies, until I was inside.
tras, one of whom I later saw trying to get out
the door with Reagan's VCR. There were
preppy White House aides everywhere, and \
several stood around actor Charlton Heston
while two Supreme Court Justices quizzed
him on who was gay in Hollywood. Casey
looked up from his joint and yelled across the
room, Ed Asner!" The conservatives all laughed. I moved on.
Secretary of State George Schultz was lying comatose in a recliner chair in the TV
room. His sleeves were rolled up to reveal
fresh track marks, and the former Ambassador to the U.N., Jean Kirkpatrick, stood over
him holding a syringe. As I left the room someone asked me if Jean was doing her Cathy
Smith impression again. I nodded. More
laughter.
I was about to hit the buffet table when suddenly I felt a hand clutch my arm. I looked
down to see leather clad Nancy putting the
grip on me. She smiled dopily and asked if
Mr. T had arrived yet. Then she pointed in the
direction of the buffet and said, "See that?
Spooks! I hate them!" I looked in the direction she'd indicated and to my surprise saw
a black kitchen helper putting food on the
table. A thought rushed through my mind.
Bigots in the White House! No wonder they
haven't imposed sanctions against South Africa. But then I looked again and saw that the
First Lady was actually pointing at two very
Christian-looking young men.    cont. p. 29
tOlKSfi/"
I found Reagan's ranch house to be similar
to any expensive summer cottage, except that
midget wrestling photos adorned the walls. As
I looked for the bar, I heard a man behind me
say, "Sure I can get you on Magnum P.I., Tom
and I are like this!" I turned to see it was a
certain network News anchorman with a certain teenage porn queen sitting on his lap. His
hand, shaking uncontrollably, was working it's
way up her thigh. Disgusted I went to the bar
and found Reverend Jerry Falwell sucking
back scotch like it was water. He was wearing a black Judas Priest t-shirt and was telling anyone within earshot that he could take
both Bishop Tutu and the Pope in a fight with
one hand tied behind his back. Ignoring Falwell I grabbed a beer and moved on to another
room where I found CIA chief William Casey
sharing a sizable joint with a group of Con-
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