Saturday, 21 December 2013

The Legend of Foxy Bano

One of my friends I've yet to really mention yet in this blog is Shane, a.k.a. "Foxy Bano" one of the many older guys I met in my circle of friends. Shane was a tall, pale, lanky fellow with a very interesting facial structure. When I first started hanging around all the thrasher guys he always seemed to give me the business. It was as if he had something against me for being younger, or perhaps he felt threatened by a new person entering the circle. Never the less I really paid him no mind, but inside it was starting to bother me.

I asked some of the guys what his deal was, and also inquired about the nick name "Foxy Bano" As the story goes, Shane was quite pale as i mentioned prior, so the guys used to call him "Shane Albino" which didn't flow or rhyme to well, so it morphed into "Shane-o Albane-o" or "Shane Albane" Over time it was shortened to simply "Bano" Then one night while partying at Dove's listening to Jimi Hendrix's "Foxy Lady" a guy named Danny had a bright idea to sing "oooooh Foxy Bano!" over the chorus. The room erupted in laughter and the rest was history.

One day in an English class, that coincidentally about 10 of us from the circle were in, the guys were swapping stories about Shane. Most of the stories were funny things that had happened to him, the kind of stories you really didn't want your buddies spreading around. Myself still being a noob to the group and looking to impress my new older friends, thought it would be a great idea to make a comic strip about Bano. I quickly hammered out a full page comic strip illustrating one of the stories they had told me in class. All of the guys were in hysterics and I had never really seen this light hearted side of them. Feeling like I was finally accepted by these guys, I did what any other impressionable kid would do.....I made more Bano comics!

The next week I was at the Hex Arcade in Bramalea City Centre playing "Altered Beast" when I was approached by Bano. He gave me the usual business like always, but he was extra douchey because he had caught wind about the comics. Now he was challenging me to step outside and fight him in the exact same parking lot where I watched Boots whip Maggot's ass. I guess I was fed up with him trying to bully me and I hit my boiling point. I flung my hands away from the coin op machine, looked him dead in the eye and said "Ok let's go!" The look on his face was priceless as he was a bit taken back by my reaction. Bano paused for a minute, then said "today's your lucky day, I've been Christmas shopping and I've got breakables in my coat pocket" I thought to myself "bullshit" It was clear that my standing up for myself slightly intimidated him to some degree, and he left on his merry way.

The following Monday at school I was hanging with the guys on lunch in the commons area of our high school when along came Bano. This time around his attitude was quite different. He sat right beside me and asked me how I was doing, and he actually genuinely seemed to care. The next thing I knew we were chatting and hitting it off. Bano even asked if he could read the comics, and surprisingly he was a big enough man to have a laugh at himself. We went on o be good friends and he even asked if he could have the comics because he liked them so much. I agreed as long as he was cool with me having copies of my art. 

When I first introduced Jerry into the circle, Bano didn't like him either, and he was constantly trying to get me to ditch Jerry. As the years passed on, Jerry and Bano ended up becoming best of friends. Who would of ever thought? As far as my comics go, I had enough story ideas from the guys to make a second comic book, but I never did get around to it, probably because I was accepted, and now good friends with Shane.

 Bano never got around to making me photocopies of my own artwork. Was this all a ruse just so he could possess the comics, knowing full well no one would ever have a laugh at his expense again? Now in present time I kind of resent him for this, as these comics were really what won my friends over and I feel they played an important part in my life. Plus as an artist not having your own art is also very frustrating. Perhaps now,  25 years later, I should put out volume two just to spite....and to preserve the legend of Foxy Bano... ;)

The proposed cover of the 2nd issue of Foxy Bano comics

Wednesday, 18 December 2013

Grand Ole' Party Crashers

June of 1991 was an epic month in my life. Woodstock was a success and people would definitely be talking about it for years to come. Asides from my friends and I throwing the biggest party during our high school run, graduation was now around the corner. I was happy to be saying goodbye to school life, but I just felt so dis attached from the whole event. None of my friends were really in school with me anymore, so it wasn't like I even had people to celebrate with. Hell, I never even bothered getting grad photos done, much to the dismay of my mother.

So if I wasn't excited about my own graduation then what was I to do? Crashing other schools grad parties seemed like a logical idea! A co worker of mine who attended Aquinas catholic high school, invited me to her grad party at some hotel in Mississauga. I knew she had a crush on me, and I wasn't very interested in her, but I wasn't going to miss out on the chance to party crash.

I ended up going with Jerry, Foxy Bano, & Lance Romance. Somehow I managed to get my hands on a 40 ouncer of tequila, but I only brought one can of pop for mix. After my first stiff drink the can of pop was gone so I started drinking right out the bottle. At one point I stuck my torso out the window to talk to some people I knew. I had a beer in hand one of the girls had given me. Next thing I know a female cop was instructing me to come out of the window. I ended up in the back of the car and we hadn't even been at the party for 30 minutes. 

The officer told me I would be receiving a fine for drinking in public, which we called a "53" as the ticket price was $53.75. We'll as fate would have it, the fine penalty had just been doubled, and was now increased to $107.50. Thankfully for me, I had no identification on me, and an attitude that I wasn't going to go out like that. I totally bullshitted the cop in regards to all my personal info. I even told her my name was Anthony Kiedis, lead singer of the Red Hot Chilli Peppers. After receiving my fine I left the car, chewed the ticket up, and spit out the wet, shredded pieces of paper in front of everyone who had just witnessed the altercation. The officer in question was still literally right behind me in her car. I headed back into the hotel room and reclaimed my bottle of Tequila.

From that point forward shit got crazy. I had no mix left, and I ended up drinking the entire 40 oz. of tequila straight. By this point we were all insanely drunk, so naturally it was time for the madness to ensue. We ran around the hallways smashing all the light fixtures and mirrors. Not satisfied with the level of darkness, we decided to find the main circuit panel for the entire hotel. We took every single fuse and smashed them. The hotel was now in complete blackout mode. From there we started working our way from room to room, walking in on unknown strangers parties, yet nobody knew who anyone was because it was so dark. We proceeded to steal what alcohol we could and raid the over priced mini fridges. Then we would head to the next room and repeat the process.

Before long it seemed like everyone started following suit, crazed drunken fools now ran amok, arson and vandalism in full swing. The pinnacle of party crashing was reached when a television from one of the rooms managed to find its way through a plate glass door. After that, police presence was high, people were getting kicked out of their rooms left right and centre, and we were booting down the road in our escape vehicle laughing hysterically. I felt amazing and could not believe I was in such great shape after drinking an entire 40 of tequila to myself. It was my first time trying it and I loved it. I had heard a lot of people's horror stories in regards to Tequila, but she was alright in my books.

Ironically, the story made it to the local paper that week. The article however claimed that a gang of skinheads were responsible for the chaos. I couldn't stop laughing as only one out of the four of us had a shaved head at the time. Regardless of the medias false portrayal of us, we were now infamous! 

Monday, 16 December 2013

Woodstock 91' pt.2

As the sun slowly set, more and more people showed up to the old farmhouse on McVean road. Dove had set the DJ equipment up in the kitchen, which was on the backside of the house. The speakers were positioned out on the back deck, which had been transformed into a stage for the evening, so the bands would have an area to perform. Yes, bands, plural. Originally E.B.S. was the only band set to play, but I was a bit shocked when the Demon Barf boys showed up with their equipment. Somehow they had managed to weasel themselves onto the bill. I remember being slightly pissed off about this, as they weren't set to play, they weren't on the flyer advertised as playing, and I'm pretty sure none of the occupants of the house actually invited them to play. Inside I was feeling a bit of resentment towards them, probably because of how they snuck their way onto the bill without an invite. Looking back I think it bothered me more so that these guys had their shit together and were actually doing something, while my band was still a mere science experiment.

Never the less, they put on a somewhat memorable performance, depending on your level of intoxication. By the time E.B.S. hit the stage I was three sheets to the wind. I don't remember much of the set, but I do recall how surreal it was watching them perform in the backyard of a farmhouse, their precious gear surrounded by a chicken wire fence, which we all hung off of in a drunken mosh. The highlight of the set was when they played "Screamin' Boogies" their "rap song" My buddy Eggman was throwing down on the muddy, earthen dance floor like he was in the club. Egg was breakdancing, doing the running man, and other assorted dance moves. Every time the chorus came along, majority of us started a "GO EGGMAN!" chant, which just fuelled him even more to cut up the rug. 

Once both bands were done playing, Dove started spinning music from the kitchen DJ station. The general rule was nobody in the house except for close friends. Dove made an exception for females who needed to use the bathroom. So the kitchen turned into the grass smoking hang out spot for the homies. There was people everywhere by now. If I had to guess, I'd say at least 250-500 people were in attendance by this point. A few of our friends were even AWOL, as the Guns n' Roses concert was in Toronto that very same night, so they'd all be arriving later. Somehow a known local felon who shall rename anonymous, made his way into the kitchen, and within minutes you could feel the tension in the air. This guy had the audacity to try and kick me out of my own friends house merely because he didn't like my haircut. Feeling somewhat intimidated, I rounded up a few of the guys, and we got him out of the house eventually with much of a scene.

Tension was high by this point, people were everywhere, and we were struggling to keep things under control. Incidents were not in high numbers, but there was a bit of drama going on none the less. Like the two coked out girls who got caught making out topless in the bathroom. Eggman and I made a point of telling anyone who would listen to us about what we had just walked in on. Before long one of the girls who was completely irate by this point, threatened to go get her boyfriend to kick my ass. When she returned with him, it ended up being one of my older friends. Once he saw it was me, he laughed and told her "That's Theo, he's cool" I felt a bit of relief none the less.

Once the G n' R concert ended, even more people started showing up. I really have no clue what the total number of people in attendance was that night, but the rumours of "upwards of 1000" people showing up didn't seem that far off. It was like no sight I had ever seen. I had never been to a party of such magnitude. There were mini parties all within the big picture, and you could literally just float around from circle to circle, mingling with strangers and catching up with school mates and friends. Somewhere along the line I ended up chatting with some drunk girl, which led to us rolling in the grass making out for the rest of the evening, the dew now starting to form on the cold, wet ground.

Eventually the guys found me, and it was time to get out of here. Somehow Limey had managed to get a ride home with Jerry and I. As we were leaving we noticed a massive police presence at the edge of the long driveway, it was as if half of the force was on call. We had totally pulled one over on the boys in blue. Here we were having quite possibly the biggest party in Brampton history and the cops didn't even know about it until it was full bloom. The fact that the farmhouse was on private property just sweetened the victory, as the cops literally couldn't do anything, with the exception of stopping people as they left to see if they were driving drunk or not. We had succeeded in throwing the biggest bash of the year. Even quite possibly the biggest bash Brampton had ever seen.

We got through the makeshift ride check no problem, and we were on our way home, just in time to beat the rising sun. Shortly after we started driving, Limey told Jerry he was going to be sick. Jerry didn't want to stop the car so close to the police, so we slowly drove down the country road, the back door slightly open, with Limey's head sticking out and spewing vomit. As I dozed off in a drunken stupor, all that rang through my head were Jerry's words to Limey "If you get any puke in or on my car I'm going to kick the shit out of you"

Eyes closed, I cracked a smile. I thought to myself, in the words of the Irish Rovers...
"Wasn't that a party?" 

Saturday, 14 December 2013

Woodstock 91' pt.1

Graduation was right around the corner, my band Slow Poke was slowly coming together, and life was quite peachy. My buddy Dove had started living in a farmhouse with a couple of other guys just on the outskirts of Brampton towards Caledon, which would be considered "the country" by some. Dove decided he wanted to throw a big party at his new digs. We sat around discussing said party, and yours truly was elected to create a flyer for the event. A group of us sat around a friends kitchen table coming up with a name and concept for the party and flyer respectively. Eventually we decided to call the party "Woodstock 91', so I came up with a flyer displaying the name, date, details, map, and a cartoon picture of all of us partying. Epileptic Brain Surgeons agreed to perform at the party, so having their name on the flyer would surely draw more people in.

Once the flyer was done, we headed to the mall to get photocopies made. From there we went around the mall handing them out. Dove had only come up with the idea a mere week before the date of the party, so we had to move fast with our guerrilla marketing tactics. We distributed flyers to all of our friends who went to different high schools, they way everyone in every high school would be aware of the party. We even went as far as to frequent strip joint parking lots and put flyers under people's windshield wipers. Then somebody came up with the idea of actually inviting some strippers to the party, so we headed to the Sword & Shield, Brampton's most sleaziest and infamous strip joint.

I wasn't even of age, but the bouncers let me in without question. This was my second time ever in an adult establishment, the first time being when I was merely 15 and Jerry and I got served at "Chez Paris" Now I sat in amazement viewing scantily clad women all around me while the boys were schmoozing with strippers and handing flyers out as we drank 99 cent draft beer out of small, dirty glasses. 

By mid week the buzz was all over town and throughout the schools about Woodstock 91'. There had been quite a few epic parties during my high school days, but without question this was going to be the biggest. Rumours were quickly spreading about how many people were going to be there. According to the masses there would be 1000 people attending. EBS were set to perform, and on top of that Dove had rented a serious p.a. sound system for the music to boom through at full capacity.

Friday finally came, the school week was over, and it was time for Woodstock 91'. I can't remember who it was, but one of the guys picked me up after school. I think it was Shane "Foxy Bano" Adams. We quickly grabbed our party favours and headed up to the farm house in the late afternoon. When we arrived there were a handful of guys, mostly new found biker friends of Dove's, sitting on the porch drinking beer. We joined them and cracked a cold one. The sun was blazing, the birds were chirping, and it was a nice relaxing gathering of friends. That would all change in a mere matter of hours...

Monday, 9 December 2013

Backtrax, Boys in blue, & Demon Barf!

Slow Poke was still a two man band as our search continued for a bass player. We even went as far as to place a classified advertisement in Now magazine, a free weekly newspaper in Toronto. Needless to say we encountered some interesting characters, but nobody we felt fit the part. If both Derek and I didn't feel this was the right man for the job, we passed on them. Once in awhile I'd like someone and he wouldn't or vice versa, so it ended up being quite the event. Eventually we met an older guy named Sted. He was rough around the edges like us, and even wore a dreadlock necklace made from his girlfriends hair. Sted looked like he walked the line of being a punk rocker and a hippy. I suppose you could say he had the "grunge" look. So on forward we went with Sted, showing him our songs.

Meanwhile in Brampton, my graduation was rapidly approaching, and there were parties a plenty. There was also a club that opened up in Bramalea called "Backtrax" or "Backtracks" that was hosting live music and a club scene for punks and alternative people. Word on the street was you could easily get served alcohol there underage as well. When the boys and I caught wind that the Epileptic Brain Surgeons were going to be performing there, we knew we had to go check it out.

It ended up just being Jerry and myself that went if I recall correctly, but we were meeting friends there. We decided to take the bus, and ended up on the wrong one, so we got off at Avondale plaza which wasn't to far from the club. During our walk we stopped under an overpass and smoked the pot we had on us, then proceeded on our way. Minutes from the club, peel regions finest police drove by us and halted to a stop. They quickly jumped out of the car and gave us the business. Where we were coming from, where we were going, we match the description of two guys they are looking for etc. etc. 

The next thing I know we are being searched at the side of the road. One of the officers found a smoking pipe on my person, and within minutes we were practically standing out in public at the side of the road with our pants around our ankles. If that wasn't embarrassing enough, we were then instructed to get in the back of the car, where they had us pull our underwear down to make sure we weren't carrying anything. I had never felt more humiliated and violated in my entire life. We were clean and the cops sent us on our way eventually after taking all of our information down.

We finally got to the club and made it in without further incident. We attempted to order beer and to our amazement we got served without question! Even though it was an all ages club, it was apparent being of age didn't matter when it came to buying a drink. We sat down in a sigh of relief at the front of the club close to the band. I just about shit ten bricks when I realized the opening band was those guys who were at ever E.B.S. show, my rivals from Chinguacousy school. The guys who I despised even though I didn't have a reason too....Demon Barf! I decided given the events of the night that I would actually pay them an honest listen, and much to my disbelief they actually won me over. I had a new found respect for these guys. 

Just as things were getting good I noticed a commotion at the other end of the club. I looked over and my jaw dropped when I saw the same two police officers who had stopped us a mere 30 minutes ago. They were stalking their way through the club specifically looking for people who were drinking and asking to see their I.D. In a panic I let my friends know what was going on, and we all chugged our drinks down in synchronization, then dumped our empty bottles on the floor under the table. We managed to escape persecution, and the boys in blue were on their merry way. 

Eventually E.B.S. took the stage, and to be quite honest I barely remember it due to the circumstances of the evening. Regardless, the Brampton band known as Demon Barf now had a few more fans...

Friday, 6 December 2013

Scumdogs of the Universe

It felt like the final year of high school was passing by quicker than any of the previous years, and I had yet to attend a concert in 1991. That all changed in the late spring when "Gwar" decided to return to Toronto for their second ever performance. After what Mike Myre had told me about (their first show) there was no way I was going to miss Gwar this time. They were on tour to support their second full length release "Scumdogs of the universe" Looking back at this exact moment as I write, one can only wonder if that album title is a play on Black Sabbath's "Symptom of the universe" Never the less, I got two tickets for the show, one for myself and one for my trusted chauffeur and best friend Jerry. 

By now it was well known that if you went to see Gwar, you wore white. This is still an unwritten metal rule. One knows they will be covered in blood shall they dare and brave the pit, so wearing white ensures you will have a free souvenir for afterwards. I clearly remember wearing my "Team Alva" shirt, as it was the only white shirt I think I owned at the time. We headed to the concert hall a.k.a. The Masonic temple, and we were anxious for the madness to ensue. 

When the lights finally went out and the curtain raised, there was a brick wall across the stage. In front of the wall, a group of picketers with signs that read such things as "down with Gwar" we're protesting the group. Two familiar faces in that crowd of picketers were Michael Jackson & Bart Simpson. The picketers were soon joined by the then president of the United States, George Bush sr., who came forth with a speech for all of us in the crowd about the evils of Gwar and the music associated with them. Midway through the speech the brick wall crumbled down as Gwar bust through it. They slaughtered all the picketers, ripped the presidents face off, then jumped into the first song.

Admittedly, I didn't know much of Gwar's music asides from the handful of songs thrown on a mixtape Myre made for me the previous year, but it didn't really matter. These guys were so entertaining that the music was almost secondary. You could go watch them perform having never heard one song and you'd still be in for the show of your life. I later learned that Gwar's lyrics told the story to each song, and each album was themed and in turn played through like a story. So if you actually knew the lyrics it was easier to follow the visual part of the performance while making sense of it all, but that didn't matter to me on this particular night.

It was surreal sweating it out in that over populated mosh pit, seeing the people around me and myself included, getting covered in blood, urine, and semen, all of which was simulated and fabricated by the band. Gwar also had a large video screen that would air segments and skits between songs that helped tie the story together. Meanwhile innocents were being slaughtered on stage left right and centre. At one point the band brought a giant meat grinder on stage and they looked to the crowd for "sacrifices" Fans would get on stage, get clobbered on the head with a prop weapon, and then get dumped into the meat grinder, which sprayed strong streams of blood into the crowd. It was so hot in the building that the paint was actually peeling off the walls.

For years after I would spread the good word of Gwar, insisting to anyone that they should go see them perform live if ever given the chance, as it would be the greatest rock and roll spectacle one could ever witness. Even if you didn't like their music I would still strongly urge you to see them perform live. To me Gwar was the new Kiss. Musically they weren't that great, but the magic, mystery and madness they brought to the table made them a special entity in the history of music.

While in the pit, Jerry ended up loosing one of his shoes. We waited for the building to clear out afterwards so he could find his shoe, which surprisingly to us was quite a feat once we saw the HUGE pile of shoes in the centre of the floor. He found a near match and we called it a night. When the insanity ended, it was incredible seeing the looks on the faces of the general public, as thousands of blood soaked punkers and thrashers made their way down Yonge street. It was a magical thing, and I couldn't wait to do it the next time Gwar came to town...

Thursday, 5 December 2013

Roll Call

One thing I was starting to notice was the fact that I was spending less time in Brampton, and in turn spending less time with my friends. It seemed like I was always in Toronto now doing the band thing, but I was also making a whole new world of friends. The Brampton crew had grown to large proportions, and the gang was still getting together at Dove's place regularly. Our numbers had shockingly grown, which could be part of the reason people never messed with us. 

By grad time here's how roll call was looking: there was myself, Dove, Noel, Spicoli, Gooch, Pugsley, James, Chunk, Jerry, Lance Romance, Foxy Bano, Reeves, McKean, Poloniato, Wild Wes, Pat "Norm", Marco, Cummer, McCuish, Chapman, Ronnie, Sanker, Gary, and Stinky.... Just to name a few. As you can probably tell by now, most of these guys had been donned with a nickname. On top of that initial crew of guys, there were other friends as we'll due to the six degrees of separation rule. Realistically though, all of us had "other" friends, so it wasn't uncommon to have 30-50 of us rolling together to parties, etc.

Meanwhile on the school front, co op was going nicely, and my final year of high school was passing my by in a flash. I started thinking about that and I got a bit sad, then I remembered how I hated most of the people here. I also remembered how there was nothing left here for me except my diploma, the official license to send me off into the "real world". Who was I kidding? I hated school. I'd be more than happy to never step foot in one again. I still felt like I was going to miss the social aspects of school, but again I reminded myself of how all my friends had moved on from here, so there was no social life left to be had here.

Myself, Mike & Mike, had been continuing our "jams" at Chapman's, as well as our lyrical ciphers. What started out as 3 white teenagers imitating the Beastie Boys, was slowly becoming what I proudly consider the first rap group from Brampton. Now there may have been other people rapping, but as far as I know nobody was doing shit! No demo tapes were dropping and no shows we're being put on. If we weren't the first I think it would be safe to say we were the first "white" dudes in Brampton to form a rap group.

Across town in Toronto, Derek and I were still working on Slow Poke. We had our handful of songs, we were still jamming them religiously, and we were STILL searching for a bass player....religiously....

Monday, 2 December 2013


It feels like it's been forever since I posted a blog entry, as I've had quite a lot going on lately preventing me from doing such. It has been a bit frustrating getting into this section of the story and having to put it on pause. The story of slow poke, in my opinion, is where my musical ventures stared to get very interesting. I look forward to sharing this portion of my life you, and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

Speaking of musical ventures, part of the reason my writing got stunted last week was due to the fact I was working on a new song entitled "Whatever happened?" Musically it is my take on what's happening in hop hop today production wise. Lyrically I ask the question of whatever happened to rap music? When did all the fun and creativity get sucked out of it? In my quest for knowledge, I never really answered my own question. Or did I? You can judge for yourself. It was nice taking a break from the Street Trash project and getting back to work on my solo material.

Last week another big happening was the 20th anniversary of the Wu Tang Clan's debut album "Enter the 36th Chambers" and to commemorate the event Wu Tang is touring. They happened to play Toronto last week and I was fortunate enough to attend the event. Wu were fired up and put on a high energy show, but the sound mans lack of abilities didn't do justice to their sound. I was also highly disappointed at the absence of the RZA, the man responsible for forming the clan. RZA is also the one who produced all of their beats and music. The fact they didn't even acknowledge his absence baffled me. It was nice however to finally see the Wu live after all these years.

On a personal level I've been spending quality time with my son whenever given the chance, and you can find me playing GTA V online most nights. That game I tell ya...

Once again I appreciate your supper and patience, now on with the story...again...

Thursday, 21 November 2013

Slow pokes

Since "Heshien" turned out so well, we continued using the same collaborative song writing techniques for the next few months. Myself arranging riffs of Derek's, composing songs from them, and then going through his "poetry" with him to piece lyrics together. I can't remember exactly how long it took us, but it felt like we had a handful of songs in no time. Our band "Slow Poke" now had enough to record a demo. Our new songs were "Underfed", "Neptune", "Torpedo", & "Born Loser". Each song had it's own uniqueness to it, while still preserving the overall style and sound we were forming, which I was still unsure of how to classify by genre. I guess essentially Derek wanted us to be a grunge band, on the cusp of this new unheard of sound. To describe our music, the riffs were slower, sloppy, loose-groove type riffs, that felt good and made you wanna nod your head, similar to say... Black Sabbath's "Sweet Leaf".

Another head nod factor was also the beats I provided. Being a long time fan of rap music, I wanted to add my own element to this new sound we were giving birth to, so naturally most of the beats I provided were directly from classic rap songs. Playing these beats on the drums however in a more aggressive manner gave a completely different dynamic to them. Majority of the beats I "jacked" were from Beastie Boys songs, as they were my all time favourite band at the time & still are to this day. The fusion of these chunky guitar riffs & dope beats definitely brought something magical to the table. Although we now had songs & lyrics, we still had two roadblocks ahead of us.

As I mentioned before, Derek's guitar playing was very "elementary" at best, but the first time I hear him sing I was absolutely mortified. I was digging the songs we were making, but vocally our visions were a bit different. D's voice was somewhat whiny, crackly, and not even close to being in tune. When he sang, or screamed rather, during the heavier parts, he sounded great, but his actual "singing" made me shudder. I never mentioned this and decided to look past it, as this band was more so his vision even though I had taken the reigns as far as our song writing was concerned. Over time his voice developed & matured with each song, and eventually I actually started to like it. It worked well with the music & he had range, despite still being out of tune sometimes....but hey, the guy had NO training whatsoever, and like I said previously, he had heart, the most important quality next to talent.

Derek was attending S.E.E.D., an alternative school in Toronto, and now I was spending time there quite often as well, meanwhile I was still enrolled at my own high school and was still partaking in the co-op program. My days at the animation studio were now spent working on art, band related art, and I was now getting into writing "poetry", which was inspired by Derek. My "poetry" soon turned into writing "raps" naturally. The Mondays I was at my own high school, I'd be happy to spend time with "Iceman" and catch up with my fellow classmates and hear about their co-op experiences. One fellow wanted to be a detective, so I coaxed him into xeroxing me crime scene photos from the books at the police station. I'd also get to see Mike Myers, but I was hanging out with him & Mike Chapman a lot late nights now after my days in Toronto with Derek. D would usually drive me home in the evening, then go spend time with his girlfriend. After she went to sleep, he would return to pick me up & we'd meet up with Mike & Mike for a late night hang.

The nights Derek didn't make it out, Michael, Michael & "Kevin Michael" (Michael is my middle name) would still get together to hang out. We had now graduated from reciting Beastie Boys songs to trying our hand at our own rhymes, which were unconventional, under-developed, but thoroughly enjoyable. This was also planting seeds in our minds to try and start our very own rap band, something Derek didn't seem to thrilled about the first time I mentioned it to him. He knew I loved rap music above all els,e so I guess he figured I'd quit the band if it actually developed into anything. I was totally down for double duty, but I looked at it like both bands were just for fun. I really had no other expectations from these musical ventures except having fun with my friends.

Slow Poke wasn't even officially a band yet regardless. We were a guitarist/singer and a drummer with 5 or 6 songs and no bass player.The other major roadblock we were still dealing with...

Tuesday, 19 November 2013

Song Writing 101

As Derek and I had our first jam at the new rehearsal spot, things felt good, but we needed to make a new song! It didn't take me long to realize that as
much as Derek enjoyed music, he didn't know shit about song writing! I asked him to play me some riffs that he had, and he obliged, squealing out some noisy, blistering riffs. After giving me a handful of riffs, I told him which two I liked the best, which were coincidentally the two riffs I felt would work best together for a verse/chorus idea. 

We hopped on the instruments and jammed those two riffs for 8 bars each back and forth for what felt like forever. Once I had figured my beats out, we were playing quite tight, and things were sounding good. The song now needed a bit more structure. As it stood we would come in with the chorus as an intro, from there we would use the verse/chorus recipe twice. Now we stood at a point in the song where we needed a solo. 

Derek was a piss poor guitarist, but the guy had heart, ambition, and the drive to succeed. He was also into a new type of underground music called "Grunge" that the world hadn't heard of yet, and this genre had moulded his mind to believe guitar solos were passé, or a thing of the past, and Derek was absolutely against them. Especially the seriously intricate wanky guitar solos often associated with heavy music. Being raised on metal, this was a hard pill for me to swallow, so we opted to have a "noise part" instead of a solo, which consisted of D thrashing himself about the floor like a child throwing a temper tantrum, his guitar screaming with intense noise and feedback like a cat being burned alive. 

I wasn't quite sure how to bring the chaotic-ness of the noise part back into the third and final verse, so I borrowed a bit of help from Slayer's song "Raining Blood" in particular the breakdown hits towards the end of the composition. These hits gave us a good buildup to flow back into our third verse/chorus combo. Now all we needed was an ending, so once again I borrowed from another band, Corrosion of Conformity, who in my opinion were the masters of the "breakdown" If you are unfamiliar with what a breakdown is, please visit google or Wikipedia, although I think it's fairly self explanatory. 

So for our breakdown on this particular song, we took the chorus and played it in half time, meaning it was half the speed we played it during the song. This created a nice, slow, heavy groove for us to bring the song to a close. We played the breakdown for four bars, each one slightly slower than the previous, the final one almost at a crawling tempo. We ended up adding an intro that was inspired from the beginning of the song "High Plains Drifter" by the Beastie Boys, and we also used a smidgen of it after the breakdown to have the song end abruptly. Our song was done and I had virtually composed the entire thing with the exception of the riffs Derek brought to the table. From here we needed some lyrics, so we started going through Derek's "poetry" writings, and again we cut and pasted some choice stuff together in a collaboration that resulted in us having lyrics for our song. 

We decided to call the song "Heshien" in ode to one of D's friends who lived out in Los Angeles, his name was Gerrard, and  heshien was the word him and his friends used to describe a long haired stoner. Perfect we thought. So we now officially had two songs "Rugburn" and "Heshien" we also had a band name now that Derek had come up with which was "Slow Poke" although that would later change. I could only wonder what was to come next...


A mere two years later, performing "Heshien" @HMV Superstore, Toronto Canada

Wednesday, 13 November 2013

Boot the Bassist

Having to kick someone out of a band is never a simple task, and this was the first time in my life I had been faced with the challenge to do just that. I put it right up there on the same level as breaking up with your significant other. What made it even more awkward on this occasion, was the fact that we jammed with Tyler earlier that fateful evening. Once we dropped him off afterwards we decided to break the news to him, and he did not take it well. 

Essentially, we explained that our visions of the bands direction differed from each other, but the truth of the matter was Tyler was just an angry young man we cared to deal with no more. I myself was battling through my own personal anger issues, meanwhile Derek was very laid back, so throwing Tyler in the mix was not healthy for either of us. We had also questioned wether Tyler was racist, as we had heard a few questionable things pass through his lips before, which made Derek uncomfortable considering his girlfriend was a black Jew.

I also remember Tyler suggesting we change the title of our one song "Rug burn" to "Love burn" an idea Derek absolutely loathed. Although a lot of lyrics Derek wrote were about girls and love, he felt the word "love" itself had no place in lyrics or song titles. Looking back at the situation now and how things unfolded, I almost question if Derek disposed of Tyler because he was opinionated, because as time passed it became clearer and clearer to me who the captain of the ship was. The shot caller, the control freak if you will....every band needs one, and this band was Derek's baby. 

So now here we were, a two man band again. One green guitarist and a mediocre drummer. It felt like we were right back to square one again with this "band" Not long after giving Tyler the boot, Derek informed me that we could now jam at his girlfriends parents house in their basement. This was good news because it meant we had a "jam space" so we would not have to cart our gear back and forth from Brampton to Toronto each rehearsal.  I'll never forget how excited we were getting the room all "pimped out" to our likings. We even set the mood with incense and candles as well as some inspiring decorative art. 

Derek strapped on his axe, I jumped behind my drum kit, and it was time to jam! After playing our usual "rug burn" loop for 15-30 minutes, I couldn't take it anymore. I angrily declared:

"We need a new fucking song dude!"

Monday, 11 November 2013

Kick Out The Jams

It seemed like it was not long after I mentioned to Derek I had a drum set, that we were packing my 5 piece pearl drum kit into the back of his van and carting it down town. We were actually going to jam INSIDE of the store, which I thought was pretty damn cool. I definitely felt like a Rockstar now, booming out tunes for the hipsters on Queen street below to hear briefly as they passed by in their uber cool travels. 

I had also now met Tyler, the bass player Derek had been in cahoots with. Tyler was an interesting kid to say the least, he was tall and lanky, simular to myself. He wore a strange hat reminiscent of something Santa's elves would wear, and he was slightly obsessed with Red Hot Chili Peppers, even more so than me. Their bass player Flea, was his idol, and Tyler loved trying to emulate his frantic slap style of bass playing. Tyler was also into old funk such as Ohio Players, Funkadelic, etc. but I assumed he only "liked" these bands because the guys in the Chilis did. Tyler was a very outspoken kid, and I could tell this made Derek rather uncomfortable, as he was a very non confrontational person.

We had our first jam and we came up with a song we called "Rug Burn" it was a loose, heavy groove that we played over and over for the duration of the jam. It was at this first jam that I noticed Derek was probably the worst guitar player I had ever seen or heard in my life. His only saving grace was that he made up for his lack of experience with an over abundance of enthusiasm and passion. Tyler and I both agreed we would need a second guitar player so Derek could focus more on singing, as he was to be the bands front man. 

The next week we were at it again, jamming in the store after hours, and trying out people for the position of Lear guitarist. Even my best friend Jerry came down and auditioned for us one night! It was always strange jamming with complete strangers however, I compare it to the awkwardness one may experience with a virtual unknown they picked up at a bar for a one night stand. So here we were, jamming our "rug burn" loop over and over with an assortment of string strummers, yet it seemed like we just couldn't find anyone who fit the part. We decided we would continue on as a three piece band, but we strongly urged Derek to get his shit together, perhaps even take some guitar lessons. 

As the jams went on over the course of the next two weeks, friction was building between Tyler and Derek. D came to me with his concerns and we talked things over for awhile. It was obvious what had to be done to restore balance to "the band" Tyler had to go...

Wednesday, 6 November 2013

Current updates 11/06/2013

What's going one everyone? 1000 apologies for my being AWOL the past week. As per usual the trials and tribulations of life prevented me from
finding the time to write. Fortunately the powers that be have relinquished me for a hot minute, so I am taking that hot minute to get at you.

Not much new going on with me, same old really. I've been working on a sculpture, tattooing, and hanging out with my son in my free time. I've also been very consumed in the world of Grand Theft Auto 5 online, I fear it is taking my life over. If you play gtaV online for Xbox be sure to add me:
CabalwithaK 420

Musically I am still currently working on my latest full length "What's below remains below" as well as getting material together for "Tales From The MixTape volume 2" As I juggle those two projects, I am also still working with my homeboy Mach Spitz on our new collaboration "Street Trash" Be sure to follow our progress as we release new material:

Another issue I've been dealing with is my vlog. I am feeling very overwhelmed at the thought of having almost 200 blog posts to cover just so I can catch up to the current timeframe in the story. I'm seriously contemplating scrapping the idea, but I'd still like to do something video wise. I shall keep you posted on this subject over the next few weeks.

I've also been working on my new podcast with my buddy Jon. We just recorded our third episode yesterday, and after a long day of editing and mixing it is finally available to the public. Be sure to check us out, and please like/share us on Facebook.

Have a great week everyone! 

Monday, 28 October 2013


Derek, was a quiet, friendly, unique individual whom I originally met back in grade 6, as he was a fellow misfit in the classroom of kids who were too terrible to go on the Camp Kilkoo trip. I had seen him all through grade six but never actually talked to him or got to know him until that particular week towards the end of grade 6. At the time Derek was a straight up doppelgänger of pop singer "Cory Hart" and the chicks seemed to dig him. It honestly wouldn't have surprised me if tourists visiting Canada stopped to ask him for a pic or autograph....THAT is how down pat he had the look. Who was I to judge? I was looking like a rejected extra from the set of Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo. Oh the 80's. By grade nine I was a thrasher, Derek was now goth, and then he just kind of disappeared. All I ever really heard of him was that he was going to school in Toronto and had a store down there now.

So here I was in 1991, strolling down Queen west, I finally encountered a sign that read "Afterlife" this was the place. I went up the rickety staircase and passed through a cloud of incense smoke as I entered the shop. There was Derek, now looking like a white Bob Marley, with big chunky dreadlocks. We were both pretty stoked to see each other, as we chatted and laughed about the old days. I eventually had to get back to work, but I told Derek I'd come see him the next day and we could catch up some more. 

The next day I went to see him on lunch, and then the next day, and then the day after that, until it became a daily routine.  We both seemed to enjoy each others company and we had a lot of common ground. One night he invited me out to dinner with him and his girlfriend at the time, who I had coincidentally helped him land back in grade 7 on our school trip to Quebec. Here they were still a happy couple, amazing I thought. They took me out for authentic Jamaican cuisine, and I tried jerk chicken for my first time, becoming an instant fan. 

Before long we were hanging out on a regular basis. I'd go see Derek on lunch. After my co op was done for the day I would go hang with him at the store, usually until they closed up. From there it was generally dinner and then back to Brampton. The store "afterlife" sold used vintage clothing, jewellery, and accessories. The atmosphere was very chill and I quite enjoyed sitting on the window ledge watching all the beautiful women below me, strutting their stuff down Queen street west.

During our many chats, Derek had made reference to "his band" a few times. We had been hanging out for a few weeks now, and I had yet to meet any members of this band, so one day I decided to ask him about it. Turns out his band was just him, and a fellow student from the alternative school he was now attending in Toronto. Two guys....a green guitarist and a skilled bass player.....and a name....."Slow Poke" they were merely lacking a drummer, which is kind of a big deal when one proclaims to be in a band.

Derek seemed almost embarrassed that I had uncovered the truth about his "band" but I was never one to break somebody down for stretching the truth a bit, or criticize someone for having a dream. There was a pause of silence and an awkwardness in the air. I finally spoke up, shattering the silence with a statement that would change both of our lives forever...

"I have a drum set" 

Friday, 25 October 2013


My first day of work was comparable to the first day of school. I was nervous, anxious, and I didn't know what to expect as I entered this new foreign world. I was met at the door by the receptionist, who was an attractive, tall drink of water. She let me in and offered me a seat while she got on the horn to let the "big boss" know I had arrived. Within minutes I was met by the "big boss" her name was Mary, a tiny woman of Asian descent. Upon first appearance one would expect her to be shy and quiet, but she was actually very harsh, abrupt, and loud. I assumed she had a complex due to her being so petite, but looking back I'm going to guess her being the boss had something to do with her harsh attitude. 

Mary gave me a tour of the place, and all the employees were checking me out like I had 3 eyes. Eventually she led me to a small, unused room, where she introduced me to a guy named Mark. Mary left me in Marks hands so he could show me the ropes, then she quickly vanished to the sanctuary of her office. Mark was a very nice fellow, he had a bit of a limp and a gimp hand, I believe he had MS or some similar condition. Mark had the lovely task of cleaning labels off of VHS cassettes so the company could re use them, and lucky me got to help! We literally spent a full day scrubbing labels with lighter fluid of all things, the fluid was best for removing the sticky adhesive apparently. 

I finally got a lunch break around noon, and I couldn't be happier. I was going a bit stir crazy from 4 solid hours of scrubbing labels. I didn't really know what to do with myself, or where to go, so I smoked a cigarette as I walked the streets, eventually coming across a hot dog vendor, entrails and intestines sounded good to me. After lunch it was right back to scrubbing labels. Not long into it we ran out of lighter fluid. Mark declared we'd need more, and he asked me if I'd be interested in going out to buy some. Of course I would! Anything to get away from these labels! I was given some petty cash via Mary, and next thing I knew I was walking down King Street, smoking a cigg, on my way to buy lighter fluid. I took my time on this mission as I was in no rush to get back to those VHS tapes, but I couldn't stay out on the streets forever, so there I was again, back in the empty part of the studio scrubbing labels. 

Now when I say the studio was empty, I mean it was set up like a functioning animation studio, with light tables and all, but NOBODY worked down there, everyone worked upstairs in newer offices with equipment that was also clearly superior. It seemed like Mark and  I were the only ones who worked on the main floor, with the exception of the receptionist. I soon gathered that Mark was essentially the "gopher" around here, as he obviously wasn't doing any animating with his bum hand. Before long it seemed like I was rapidly becoming the new gopher, as I was constantly cleaning things, xeroxing endless amounts of work for the animators, and going on supply runs. One benefit of this was being able to get out of the office and cruise the streets of Toronto. I'd take my time, go shopping in record shops along the way, and pop in any other place that caught my eye. Lightbox had business accounts with all the art supply shops in the city, so when I went for pickups I didn't even need money, everything was charged to the company account. Naturally I took advantage of this and started throwing in extras for myself on the company's dime.

Mark ended up leaving and I was officially the new bitch boy for Lightbox. One very cool aspect of literally having an entire floor to myself, was the fact that I was never being watched or monitored. It's not like I was up to anything shady, I've just always proffered working alone. When I was done my list of tasks that were assigned to me each morning, I had the rest of the day to do as I pleased, and a fully operational animation studio at my finger tips. All I did was draw in my free time and plan out animated films that I aspired to bring to life one day. 

A few weeks in on a Friday afternoon, Mary asked me if I would be so kind as to go pick up some supplies from "Curry's" on Queen street west, a place I was very familiar with from my Toronto shopping excursions. I got the list from her and was on my way. As I strolled down Queen street, I started thinking about an old friend from school who I had heard now ran a clothing store down here. I decided I would pop in and say hello to my old school mate. Unbeknownst to me, what started as a simple gesture of friendship would lead to an incredible musical journey that would influence and dominate a major portion of my life...

Wednesday, 23 October 2013


It was now January 1991, I was about to turn 18, and I was beginning my second semester of grade 12, which would also be my final semester of high school. I was a bit sad to see high school coming to an end, but most of my friends were already gone, so I knew deep down there really wasn't anything left here for me to miss. I was also quite excited to be spending my final months of school in a co-operative work placement program, meaning I'd be "working" a job somewhere instead of going to classes. I use the term working loosely seeing as you don't get paid for the work. 

When I initially registered for co-op the previous year, I never even stopped to think about what I wanted to do. I had initially chosen something, which escapes me now, but at the zero hour I changed my mind, expressing my passion to work in the animation industry instead. The powers that be told me they would see what they could do, and I left it in their hands as I waited patiently. I honestly didn't think they were going to get back to me with good news, as my scholastic karma had always been quite negative. Needless to say I was in total shock when the guidance counsellor informed me they had found me a placement at "Lightbox Animation" in Toronto. It was going to be one hell of a commute everyday, but I was so anxious and ready for it! 

The first couple weeks of the semester was spent in class preparing ourselves to enter the working world. Mike Myers happened to be in co-op at the same time, but as fate would have it we were in separate classes. I ended up chilling with "The Iceman" most of the time, both in and out of class. Iceman, or Randy, was one of the coolest black guys I ever had the pleasure of knowing, and he was one of the only brothers who saw me for who I was, instead of assuming I was a racist due to my appearance. Randy taught me quite a lot about the fine art of basketball, Jamaican 3 card, and how to get younger girls to buy you lunch. Before long however, our time was through, as both co-op classes entered into the working world. We did still however get to see each other on Mondays, as that was our in class day. 

I can vividly remember my mother waking me up for my first day of "work" it was about six o' something in the morning and still dark outside. I went through the motions of showering and getting dressed without barely opening my eyes, and before long I was sitting in the front seat of my mothers car. She worked at a bank in the mall where the bus stop just so happened to be, so she dropped me off on her way to work with enough money to get the go bus & subway to Toronto and back. I had my trusted Walkman with me and some reading material, and I quite enjoyed the commute down. 

When I finally exited the subway at King street, I walked up to the cold, snowy streets and began my trek to work. I was starving by this point, and still had time to kill, so I went into a cafe called "The Kit Kat" which was really cool. The place was decorated with an assortment of "Felix The Cat" memorabilia. I immediately thought to myself that Mike Chapman would love this place, as he was a huge Felix fan. I enjoyed some baked goods and chocolate milk, and then headed down the alley behind the cafe, which led me to Mercer  street, where I quickly found a small black & grey building with frosted glass windows and a small sign that said "Lightbox Animation" It was time for my first day of "work"...

Monday, 21 October 2013

The Best Man

The first semester of grade 12 flashed by in the blink of an eye, Christmas had passed, and it was now January 1991. Jerry had disappeared from my life over the past year, as he had met a girl he fell head over heels for. Craig was still practically living at Phil's place, and Ryan.....well he was still Ryan.

In late 1990 however, Jerry showed up at my parents place one day just as I was heading out the door to go skateboarding. I was surprised and taken back to see the infamous "S.E." parked in my driveway with Jerry sitting nervously behind the wheel. As soon as he saw me, he jumped out of the car with tons of enthusiasm and energy. After all, it had been over a year since we had seen or even spoken to one another. Before I could even pass a word between my lips, Jerry insisted that I hear him out. It ended up he had broken up with his girlfriend and made the realization that he had completely neglected and ignored his friends for the last year. 

I could understand why he felt guilty about that, but I couldn't fathom to what levels of depth his guilt lay with, and they were much deeper than I had expected. Jerry apologized for his disappearing act that he had just pulled for the last 12 months, but he went on adamantly about it, professing that deep down inside of him he figured out I was his truest best friend, which was a bit shocking to me as I always thought Craig and him were closer. I suppose when Craig branched off with Phil, Jerry saw that I was still there for him as a friend, even though he also chose to "abandon" me around the same time.

Regardless of whatever caused this epiphany in him, Jer made a point of apologizing endlessly while continuously reassuring me that we would be best of friends until the end. The story got even deeper as he confided to me that he felt I was the one person solely responsible for him having "a life" as he put it, meaning all the cool things he had done,  the places he had went, and the people he had met, many of which had become friends of his by this point. Jerry swore up and down that if it wasn't for me taking a chance on a goofy, but loveable guy in grade 6, he wouldn't have enjoyed his life to the quality he had up until this moment. 

With that he swore his undying devotion to me as a best friend, and promised he would never disappear from my life again. Looking back now from this present moment in 2013, there were a few gaps of time over the years that we didn't see or talk to each other for extends periods, yet when we did get in touch with each other it was as if we had come full circle and never skipped a beat. In my mind that is the ultimate element to a true friendship or connection between friends. To this day we are still best friends, Jerry was the best man at my wedding, and we even live in the same town once again. We get together once a week, sometimes twice, and we are still both very inspiring to one another. 

I can still remember him parked in my parents driveway like it was yesterday. After he was finished saying his piece, I got in the car with him and we drove off, wandering the streets aimlessly as we theorized and hypothesized about how we would be as friends when we hit our 90's... Only 50 more years to go my friend... 

Pic my mom took the night of our re-union. X-mas 90/91'

Friday, 18 October 2013


Growing up during grade school and middle school, it was almost as if time stood still, or moved slower than molasses in January. The days felt like they took forever to pass by, and the 6+ hours in school each day felt more like 12 hours minimum. 

When I first got to high school I was a bit concerned because the length of classes were going to be longer, but much to my amazement they seemed to go by quickly. I finally came to the conclusion that being in a different classroom for each class as opposed to spending an entire day in one classroom must of had something to do with it. When I stepped back to take a look at my life, it seemed as if high school was passing by in a flash, and grade 12 was no exception. The snow was on the ground, exams were underway, and the first semester was coming to a close....OH! AND the Epileptic Brain Surgeons video was finally complete! 

For the life of me I can't even remember where I was when I saw it for my first time, which is fairly shocking given my track record with memories. I honestly can't remember if there was a viewing party, or if I saw it on much music, or perhaps one of the guys simply showed it to me on a VHS tape. Never the less, it was amazing in my eyes.

Although the Surgeons had now released 3 different demos, a lot of the same songs were on each of those demos. For the video however, they decided to go with one of their new songs "Cows" which to even the un trained ear, was clearly one of the stand out tracks on the tape.
The video kicks off with some footage of a creepy abandoned house/barn which I believe was in Streetsville, or Caledon if I remember correctly, followed by footage of goats hopping around in a pen. I always found it hilarious that they threw goats in there, one just assumed they couldn't find any cows to film. Or perhaps it was just older stock footage that Owen had kicking around.

The rest of the video is a potpourri of imagery that still brings a smile to my face over 20 years later. Some of the high points being: Pooh playing guitar in oversize shades resembling a muppet version of Ray Charles or Stevie Wonder, Waller singing with drumsticks coming out of his ears, footage of the boys dancing from the infamous "Club 2000" (now known as Nashville North and coincidentally in the town I happen to live in currently), Steve shredding the 12 foot half pipe at the legendary Grassroots, the only indoor skatepark Brampton ever had (R.I.P.), cameos from Ronnie Rowbottom and Al Nolan, our favourite pool hall we used to hang out at, the scenes in front of the old K-Mart in Brampton, which were my old stomping grounds as a kid....shall I go on? 

I've pretty much just described the entire video with the exception of the ever classic hot rocks footage, which could be a blog post in itself. Since I'm on a roll here though I'll give you the gist of it. There was a battle of the bands held in Brampton once upon a time at a bar known as "Hot Rocks" which any true metal historian can tell you about if you've never heard of it. 

Old sketch I did slandering Hot Rocks

E.B.S. signed up, showed up, and battled it out against an array of "hair bands" essentially. Waller was dressed like he was straight out of Motley Crüe or Poison, and there was a lot of tension in the air between the hardcore kids and the "glam fags" as we used to call them. 
An all out brawl almost ensued in which Mike Myre was the ring leader of, and a certain....ummmm.....humble narrator was at his side. The crowd was predominantly people who came to see the Surgeons, so naturally the glam rock guys backed down. Every time I watch the video I can remember that night like it was yesterday. It was really incredible seeing my friends in a video on television, I felt as if they were somewhat famous now, or at least a step closer to fame.

Here is the video, it will also be added to the videos page for easy access should you feel the need to watch it again in the future. Mad props still after all these years, go out to Owen S.Roberts. Film maker extraordinaire.