“TGON is almost finished their 2nd record and you won’t believe the mess they made of their lives to get it done! Vids coming!”

I know, I know. It’s been ages. I’ve been busy dying in ways you wouldn’t believe… Some violently, some beautifully, some without any dignity at all, damn it. But I’m not done with this yet.

I’m not done trying to express to you some truth or piss you off with a controversy. I’m not done reinventing myself. I’m not finished loving, hating, enlightening or damaging you or myself. I’m not done because it matters.

Listen, last month I went out for a drink…

…My head swimming. The music is way too loud and oh so awesome. And there I go, I loose sight of her again. Damn it! It doesn’t always need to be this dramatic, this manic but let’s face it… we’re talking about me. (I’m just like that guy in that movie about that thing that happens just like this) And then I spot her! Look at her… She knows this song. Each gesture and curve of her body reflecting each chord change and down stroke. She loves this song. And she’s slamming into my mind so hard right now it’s like a fix. I need to dance with her; I have got to be near her! She grabs the ridiculous burgundy tie I’m wearing around my neck and pulls. Good for me! But now I’m a dead man hanging there on her gallows. And I don’t see that she’s hanging on at the end of her own rope. Na, right now I’m too selfish about looking into her mad, shining eyes; she could hate you as fast as love everything about you and it’s intoxicating to see. In my head I hear myself say, “Listen, she gives and gives and gives so don’t fuck with it! Do you hear me? Don’t fuck with it!” But her blood, her sex, her life and her love smash my spirit to smithereens. Her warm, naked skin opens and is wounded by a crucifixion of my own making. She is a willing sacrifice; she is crazy, she is out of control, she is my Savior… Then she slices words into me, words that she can’t bring herself to say out loud. She carves them with her nails into my back, onto my shoulders and into my chest; no one will ever get me like she does, no one will ever love me like she does. I know it’s the truth. I know it’s the only truth there is for me. After the song dies, I go and I have a stupid drink at the stupid bar alone, all by my stupid self. She is still dancing and I still hate everything.

But see, I got next to her and for a moment I connected with an extraordinary being. I’m not done with that because it matters.

Although I like tattoos I have none. I have instead, more than one scarification (next time you see me you can trace the marks of stigmata on my hands and feet), including my name in Tibetan cut into my leg (a different rock band, a stupid tour; crazy time had by all).

Now, our Alex JD he’s the one who openly wears his interest in dominance and submission – guess which role he divines pleasure from. If you’re right he’ll smack your ass and make you call him daddy. If you’re wrong, he’ll smack your ass and make you call him daddy but you won’t enjoy it. He wins either way though.

Or our Jonathan; you wanna get that boy off, show him a girl with glasses and a pony tail. Make her blonde, and he’ll call you from Cuba next week.

But back to me…

Latex. Yeah. That’s cool. I like seeing girls wear that. Not as much as some I’m sure. But those thigh-high red or white boots that look like a second skin… Ooo, maybe I like it more than I want to admit.

In my other bands I used to wear blue plastic clothing. I should mention also, just to give you a visual picture of all this, I had a platinum blond Mohawk down to my ass (Thanks to Chainsaw from Detroit for that. She was the craziest hairstylist in America. Hope you’re not dead yet).

See, that blue plastic was amazing for the performances I was doing at the time. While I was on stage it reflected the light so much I looked like Lucifer’s bartender or at least his doorman.

But it was not interesting to me from a “get off” perspective. The feel and texture did nothing for me. But it did lead to something interesting…

In Philadelphia, I had just come down from the stage and a particularly energetic show. In fact, I was so hot that there were actual sweat waterfalls coming out of the arms of that blue plastic. It was hard to hold onto the guitar. So I’m walking down the stage stairs when these three girls come up and want only one thing… To wear the blue plastic that was filled with my sweet, sweet, sweat. They put it on one at a time, hugging and wetting themselves (in more ways than one I presume) with my sweat.

-Sigh-

It didn’t do anything for me (except to entertain me for the time they were giving me the little show). But I did thank them for cleaning the sweat from out my blue plastic.

I know I’m just scratching the surface of all of this behaviour – fucking, bondage, orgies, tickling, partner swapping, group sex, teens, big fat dildo, face sitting, zasta blue creature, stargate, very amateur, private forbidden young, everything buttplug, escorts, two girls one cone…

…But it leads me to believe that we’re engaging in ersatz-love. After all, love can hurt more than masturbating your clit with sandpaper or using a cheese grater on your cock. So why do something that hurts so much when there are three girls with willing mouths to “urk, urk, urk” and make you feel like you’re so much more than you are?

“Because you feel awful afterwards. Empty!” You tell me.

Really?

Like you feel after watching TV? Or eating McDonald’s? How about after shopping? Or doing drugs? Alcohol? How about treating pets to spas? Cigars? Cars? Trips to Cancun? (People do realize there are a lot more beautiful places in the world than Cancun right?). Movies? Parties? Driving around downtown with your peeps? Looking in the mirror until you see demon faces? Holding your breath until you pass out? Huffing computer cleaner?

Fuck that.

I say if you feel empty because of any of this you’re not doing it right.

Love is the ultimate couple preoccupation. It takes forever to find and then it hurts like hell to keep.

We’re North Americans! We figuratively eat our own young. We’re lazy. We don’t need love. It’s too hard to deal with. We need an easier, kinder replacement. Like Sweet ‘n Low.

Ersatz-love. You can’t tell the difference from the real thing.

…Except when you’re alone. But that’s why we have porn. And goddamn those girls must love those guys… why else would they do those things??…

Cha-ching!

Out of my pit I can only see a small part of the sky. But down here there’s a whole world of suffering. I’m digging deeper and deeper, interrupted only when one of these ripping, tearing creatures of my own making jumps me from behind. Caught under this blunt trauma shock of a falling mortar my psyche is simply blown to bits. From now on I cannot protect myself.

They feed on me down here. They won’t let me go.

When they’re done and I’m alone I find myself again. Slowly I sit up in the darkness and look up from the mud and the blood and the tears. The stars are so beautiful. Heaven is a circle.

So I’ll write something, maybe something about digging my way up. Yeah, digging my way up. That’s kind of weird and wrong. You can’t find your way up from going down. Why would I even think that? Deconstruct to construct. Wait! It makes perfect sense…

I feel around in the rancid muck and find it. And I start digging again. The deeper I go the farther away the sky. The smaller Heaven gets for me. But that’s right, yes? That’s the way it’s supposed to be right?

Right?

I make Monsters.

But seriously, she died ages ago and there are a whole lot of non-dead, non-relatives who dig what TGON and Jim have done in the Virtual World that “Realm of Porn and Shadows”.

Nice.

Sure I could dwell on the negatives, you know, the kind that could muck a small country down to its knees… Sure I could bitterly brood over the lead ears of critics. Sure I could light afire effigies of small-minded cowards…

Sure I could. But I’d only waste my breath and the art supplies to make those effigies…

Anyway, I don’t care about those distractions…

See, we have an ace in the hole – we have the future!

Strike that!

We don’t have the future… we make the future!

Ooo, I feel a prophecy coming on…

-speaking in tongues-

Habbaba ulthalay shallal hubuz!

I’m sorry, I can’t write while prophesying…

But don’t despair! If you send me 1$ I will reveal to you what was shown me, written in the sky above Montreal!

…

My point is…

It’s hard not to be cynical about the future. On the other hand, all we can do is what we do and hope for the best. Sometimes that’s enough…

Other times you shake your head because you are denied your basic human right to a glass of water.

But then to salvage the night you and your band pack up and head down the street and you sit outside on a terrace to have a drink…

…And the bar manager comes out with free shots for everyone!

“Why the hell…???”

I mean, “YAY!”

What a strange place. This is such a strange place.

So if my theory is correct, to move forward is to strike a balance between trying to control the direction of this crazy thing and riding where it takes you. Through all possible permutations of all possible futures and then winding up on that little spot in the 10th dimension that IS only you.

Easy…

See.

Things are looking up.

Destroying art for religion, painful to witness… like having electrodes on your nutmeat. Sure the title of the song could have been changed. It was originally just a working title because it was unfinished, but I think the fact that people write it off before reading the lyrics and finding out what it is all about, sort of fits. Those same people that are writing it off and calling it childish are the same morons that cannot appreciate a nice painting.

Electrodes On My Nutmeat

lyrics by Schrecker

Hate perverted dust and blood
Pain screams blown back
Mystic savage and insane
The Standing Buddha breaks away

Humanity descends
6 feet underground
Dying for freedom

Long
Night
Dark
Age
Never ending
Nightmare

Actions speak
It’s so inhuman
I’m aware
I’m so fucking aware

I’ll stand up
I’m human
I’ll shake my fist at your heaven
For making this life a living hell

I’m not gonna care tonight
I will be so high
Without you!
I’m not gonna care!

Would have been sane
But we have broken through the door!
- TO THE OTHER SIDE…

Once you get stoned about the truth
What will be
Will decide

What you’re gonna say…
I’m not gonna care about you
I’m not gonna sing about you

One
Step
From
Death

Welcome to the Culture of the grinder
Do as you will; tomorrow we die
Go ahead Da Sade if you believe it
But it’s like trying to find a bullet to rely on
Sometimes…
All my …
Psychopathic Dreams of you come true…

Not much time now
No more fight left
The Light fades down now
None of it will last…
Nothing ever does nothing ever will

You are not there in your heaven
Hell is right here in our failing minds

Just a ghost remains…

I will be so high without you
Couldn’t I just die without you
I can’t stand to say good-bye
I can’t stand against the tide

Hell is in the mind
What is there to think about
Heaven’s in your eyes
What the hell you looking at
And no one’s left alive

It’s like trying to find a bullet to rely on
It’s like trying to find a bullet to rely on
It’s like trying to find a bullet to rely on
It’s like trying to find a bullet to rely on
It’s like trying to find a bullet to rely on
It’s like trying to find you…

“Play for nothing! And no water because you, YES YOU, are a filthy, dirty musician who wants to entertain us!” – Adolph Hitler to Schrecker at Bar Alizé Aug 22nd 2009

Do I believe in reincarnation? I dunno. Sometimes. Certainly feels like assholes who we thought we got rid of years ago during mythical, global struggles have come back to annoy us one more time.

Okay, maybe I’m being a bit dramatic but any band that has worked their asses off to play would totally understand (or at least disbelieve) the fact that I was refused water before I went on stage with The Gods Of Now at Bar Alizé on Aug 22nd. And no, I didn’t want a bottle of water or sparkling water. I wanted a glass of water from the tap.

Jerks.

Should have seen it coming.

We were asked to play Bar Alizé on Aug 22nd by Mike the booking guy there. He contacted Alex JD and finally, after some very amateur dealings, set it up with our incredibly patient manger Lulu. Mike, hereafter referred to by his real name Skippy, was missing a band for the first slot of the night and asked if we knew any.

Does Lulu know bands? She knows ALL the bands. She throws Skippy 5 bands that would work well with The Gods Of Now. Contact info and all. But more about that later…

So on the 22nd I left my daughter’s 9th birthday party early – 4 pm (don’t want to be late for sound check and then accused of being unprofessional). I drive over to Moonbabe Studio where I meet Alex JD. We pack up the gear like the Tetris masters we are. We have been told by the bar to be there with our “…gear on stage by 6 pm so they can sound check at 6:15”.

Yeah, sure, like that’s going to happen. Oh, we’ll be there when they ask but seriously, why would this bar be any fucking different from any other bar in North America. It works both ways…

…A bar tells you to be there at 6 pm – the doors should be open and the soundman should be waiting for ya, right? But bars tell bands to come at 6 pm because they think the band won’t be there until 8pm. Gott in Himmel what a biz. Still, we’ve heard that this bar is touchy so we’re going to play it by the book.

Anyway, Alex JD and I are done packing by 5 pm. Jon is supposed also meet us at Moonbabe but we’re too fast. We’re already leaving so we call him to meet us at the club. Zasta is bringing his kit in his own car so he’s going straight there.

Jon calls back 10 minutes later. He’s at the club and the doors are closed. Locked tight. Me and Alex JD look at each other – it’s Calgary 2008 all over again – the LSD flash backs, the smell of napalm and the sound of helicopter blades chopping the air fills the Banyion – oh wait that’s the radio. I turn it down.

We get to the club and there’s Jon sitting outside the locked door. At that point I say to no one in particular, “If no one’s here at 6:30 we’re leaving”.

Lulu and Ben from RadioRockCafé show up soon after this and we commiserate. We all wait.

… and wait.

…and…

“What time is it?” I ask.

“20 after 6.”

And then the bar owner shows up.

Damn it! I wanted to make a point. Oh well, 20 minutes isn’t so bad. He could have showed up at 8 pm like I said.

“Sorry, sorry.” He says, surprised to find us there.

We unload the gear and set it up.

Skippy the booker says that he found a band – “…just today” to open for us and Mannequin Bride, the other band we’re playing with.

Wha…? Just today? What about the names of the bands that Lulu sent him? Well, maybe he found a band that was more suited to playing with the frenetic heaviness of TGON and the rock/punk, rawness of Mannequin Bride. Have to give the guy the benefit of the doubt.

Malcolm the sound man is ready for us to do a song at a quarter to 8 pm. Wow, okay. Good thing we were here at 6!

I want a glass of water. So I say to Skippy, “Can I get a water?” He says “Umm, no…? Um… I usually go to the washroom… ? um…?” I look at him strangely, what the hell are you jabbering about, and stop making statements into questions like a 12 year old!

I tell him, “I’m not going to get a glass of water in a bar bathroom. Could I just have a glass of water from the sink at the bar.” I ask him nicely. He sheepishly looks around and then goes behind the bar and quickly gets me a glass of water. “I’m not used to being back here so…?” He says.

Whatever. This guy doesn’t inspire confidence.

The other band, Mannequin Bride shows up. Great guys, positive and happy to play. The sound guy is still doing his thing on stage so I go outside with Mannequin Bride and Ben. We talk about the One Pagers that I’m doing for bands…

Shameless Self-Promo #1

ONE PAGERS: These are great tools for sending to all aspects of media. They are one page of text and graphic to catch the attention of anyone in the biz, impart the info they need, and not piss them off with plastic folders and a book of press clippings.

Listen, these days the place for press and blowing your own horn about what people think of you and all them awards you’ve won is on the web.

See, the beauty of the One Pager is that it makes the person reading it (label rep, radio rep, producer) interested enough to go to the link and find out more about you. That’s the key to the One Pager – it works in conjunction with what you have already (if you’re a serious act) got going on line.

The One Pager is fully, graphically designed by Krystelle Ruest who captures the direction and the ultimate vibe of what each act is going for. If they don’t know yet, then we can help them with that too. Everybody wins! I like when it’s like that.

I should mention, as I did to the boys from Mannequin Bride. I just received a nomination for a Prix Gémeaux for writing so what I write into these One Pagers does what I’m telling you it does. It ignites a desire to know more about your band – just like the record sleeves on LP’s did back in the day. Some of those record sleeves are absolute art.

End Smaheless Self-Promo #1

We also talk about Polka being a great traditional form to translate to heavy music. Time to do sound check so…

We do sound check and then I leave to get ready for the show.

Cardinal Rule #1 about being in a band with no rider at club – NEVER BRING OUTSIDE ALCOHOL INTO THE VENUE. If you don’t know this you’d better learn it. Bringing alcohol into a licensed venue is like going on stage and using another bands gear with out asking. This you NEVER do. (It’s Cardinal Rule #2 actually)

However, Cardinal Rule #3 states: for a band with no rider at a club – THE PARTY IS IN THE VAN. In other words – if the band can’t afford to buy 6$ drinks in a club they go buy their own before the liquor store closes and hang out in the van. It’s what bands do cuz often bands don’t get paid. Often.

Really often.

So on the way back, me and K. bought a tiny bottle of Jack so we could have a drink in the van. Should’ve, in retrospect, bought water too but seriously…

We go in… first band is on stage and starts to play.

There is NO ONE there.

Then Skippy the booker says: “I don’t believe in posters.” Oh god. Really? Oh yeah, I forgot, not only does the bar want the band to play, but to promote the show, and pay for drinks and their water… oh! Getting ahead of myself here…

The first band is from Newfoundland. I love Newfoundland. The people are amazing and the musicians there are top notch. This band was not surprisingly made up of nice guys who played nicely written songs really well.

But, and no fault to them, they were stylistically vibe-rock/acoustic. And they were opening for TGON.

Come on.

What the hell is wrong with you Skippy?

Did the Skip-ster actually believe this was a good match for TGON? Lulu – OUR MANAGER gave him bands that worked well with the music we play – she even gave him contact info – couldn’t he have picked up a phone?

The day before the gig Alex JD saw an ad on Craigslist about our show, this show, with Skippy saying he needed to find a band and fast to open for us… Gawwwd! Wot th’ fak?

So, after a couple of songs we go out for a sip or two of JD. We hang out by the Banyion for a little while and see that the first band is finished. I wanna see Mannequin Bride so we go inside.

I see Skippy talking to one of the Newfoundland boys. He’s asking HIM to watch the door while he goes outside.

???

So there’s this musician who is on tour all the way from Newfoundland sitting doing Skippy’s job. I was more sad than angry. I wondered if Skippy would have his dog babysit his kid when he needed to go hang out at the Dep.

Just for fun I went out to see what Skippy was up to. Maybe he actually had some urgent bar business to look after. Sigh. No surprise: sitting on his ass in the dirt with his back up against the wall doing nothing. Wow.

I go back in to watch Mannequin Bride who are up on stage and rocking like there were people there. This is a good band.

They have about 3 songs left. I better water up my chords…

The Water Incident: Dun dun dun!!!

I go to the bar.

“May I have a water please…?”

The bar owner looks at me and turns to look at the sink. He looks back at me and sticks his finger in my face and wags it back and forth.

I hear him say “No!”

He does a wonky pirouette – I guess he was upset and looking for something because he does a complete (but wobbly) 360-degree turn. He once again looks at me and holds his finger in front of my face as if he had caught me masturbating and is going to call the cops (BTW that has NEVER happened to me… in Canada). He runs into the back and I see him dig around someplace. He pulls out an old bottle of water. He holds it up.

“Three-fifty!” He says.

Maybe he doesn’t understand that I just wanted a glass…

“I’m playing. I need water to…”

“Three-fifty!”

Maybe he doesn’t realize I’m in the last band tonight. I mean, come on…

“My band is playing after this one. Me and my drummer need wa…”

“No!”

He turns his back on me and puts the bottle of water away.

I stand there and think to myself…

I think of all the things anyone has ever done to me that was lawless or shameful or pathetic.

I think of people who have stolen from me…

…of people who have broken things of mine in spite.

I think of human beings who have said or done things to me just to hurt me.

I think of the worst critics that have torn my music, lyrics and passion to shreds and published it for all to see…

And to any one of them…

I WOULD GIVE A GLASS OF WATER TO IF THEY NEEDED!!!

END OF INCIDENT:

THE FALL OUT: (now it gets good!)

My rights as a human being were violated. I decided that was that.

I walk through the empty dance floor. I look for and find K who was sitting and watching the band. She throws me a glance and as soon as she sees me she knows something is up. I gesture for her to come with me outside.

In the shadows, I didn’t see Alex JD who witnessed the whole thing. He didn’t hear it though. He followed us outside.

I see Lulu and say “I was just refused a glass of water. We are not playing here tonight”.

Alex JD comes up and listens. He smiles the smile that isn’t really a smile but more like a baring of teeth as a predator does when it sees an easy kill. Oh yes, we know what we’re going to do with this one without even saying it.

I look over and see Ben lean back on his car. He crosses his arms.

“Fuckers” he says.

Everyone is shocked. Amazed at the callousness of the bar owner. The inhumanity. The shocking degradation and torture I have suffered… It was surprising I was still alive after this heinous treatment. Dehydrated to the point of…

Okay I’m being melodramatic, it was just a lousy glass of water. But Ghandi led India to freedom from bar owners because they took away their right to vibe on the sitar and smoke the hookah after 5 pm. So it’s the little things that matter…

But the point is – any band understands this – bands are made to be the fall guys for EVERYTHING. That’s what is wrong about the biz. We work the hardest. We’re made to do everything (we need to promote the show, bring the people, pay the sound man, move our gear) and as a reward we are supposed to take it up the ass and say “Thanks for letting us play”. And now, at Bar Alizé we can’t even have a glass of water – from the tap – for our trouble.

I say to Lulu that I’m going to blog the hell out of this. Write names and say how they treated me. Skippy the promoter hears me and stomps away.

Kat and Marilou look at me with sly smiles and say: “You got your way.” I have no idea what those girls were talking about.

The boys from Mannequin Bride are still playing while all this shit is going down. The room is empty cuz everyone is outside dealing with this shit storm. I say, “I’m going in to see the band. “

On the way in, the promoter with his little girlfriend comes up to me and says that it’s just the way it is with the water here.

“The owner is just like that. He’s a cheap fucker. That’s why I was getting tap water from the bathroom”. He says.

I say, “But, I’m in a band.”

Skippy says “So am I”.

“But you weren’t playing tonight.” I counter. It feels like mentally sparring with a retarded chimpanzee. “I just wanted a glass of water.”

“But you guys didn’t bring any people.” He says as if that, in his mind is the crime that deprived me of water.

“You didn’t promote the show. You asked us to play. We came to play. If you ask Alice Cooper to come do a show and you don’t tell anyone he’d be playing to an empty house too.”

Skippy says “Listen, I’m no promoter I’m a booker.” He also says “I’m a nice guy, not a professional.”

What did he just say…?

Let me get this straight. … a professional, or a nice guy, but not both? I’m sorry but you can totally be a great person and a professional. Most of the people I work with are exactly this. But I can guarantee you that they can’t stand working with lazy ass slackers who are given jobs that they shouldn’t have in the first place.

In Skippy’s case he is a nice guy and he’s an idiot but I think he’s young (I hope so anyway) so he may have time to recover.

So Jon says to me, “It sucks that my mother came all this way to see us, paid her ticket and now Skippy has her money.”

Yeah. At least give Jon’s mother’s money back. That’s the right thing to do. She came to see TGON…

Skippy won’t. He says he won’t give that money back because it’s his now. We argue. Believe me, if it was at all interesting I’d tell you about it. It was mostly just him holding onto his little money box like a football and looking at me with wide staring eyes. Sad actually.

I tell Jon that we’re going to give his mom a t-shirt for the trouble of coming all this way to witness man’s inhumanity to man. What? You forgot about the water incident? Through this whole process, mostly because I’m not allowed water – I’m getting really thirsty. I think it’s a psychological thing.

So I’m about to go in the bar to see Mannequin Bride finish their set when…

Skippy’s little girlfriend barks: “He saw you drinking in your van!” (See Cardinal Rule #3).

“And who the hell are you?” I mimic her little bitch attitude.

“Oh my god! I so want to hit you right now! You are such a fuck!” She starts to stomp around like a little kid having a tantrum.

…and she clearly doesn’t know anything about Schrecker – I’m not a “fuck”. I’m a prick. An asshole. A psycho with issues that I’ve recognized and embraced over the many years that I’ve attempted therapy. I’m not saying it has done a single thing to help me, but I do know, clinically, I’m no “fuck”.

I also don’t rough up girls but I’m more than willing, if they want to take a shot at me, to indulge them – Pain makes us know we’re alive. Not that she would be able to get it up to my threshold but it would make a funny story if she’d take a swing. I’d actually have more respect for her.

She didn’t have the guts. She’s just another little jerk; too many of those already.

I go in and see Mannequin Bride on stage playing.

“Just one of those nights” Says the singer who is talking about some completely unrelated topic.

“You have no idea.” I say back to him from the room.

They end the night with a great rock song – nice, nasty and gritty. At the very end as the power chords are slamming like sledge hammers on the down, the singer kicks a glass of water and it goes flying ALL OVER THE PLACE!!!

Oh my fucking god that was great!!! That was so fucking rock and roll to me at that moment. Water flying everywhere!

What a shame there weren’t more people to see it.

I go outside and talk with Alex JD who is with Kat and Marilou. Alex JD and I know that this Water Incident will be so much more of a PR shot than playing a non-descript show like this.

Yeah, that’s a sad commentary on the biz but it’s the way things are. Who cares if you play music that no one has ever heard before? Who cares if the boys in the band are the most incredibly intense, dynamic performers that you’ve ever seen? Who cares if this is art?

“The singer of The Gods Of Now was refused a glass of water before getting on stage to perform at a bar in downtown Montreal.” How come cool shit like that only happens to him? Johnny Rotten once said, “Any one can be loved. Try being hated for 15 years. That’s something.”

We’re going to pack up and go out to have a drink. All of us.

I look over to see Jon who is talking with Zasta who has JUST NOW showed up to play. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! He doesn’t know what went down.

I love this about TGON. We all experience things in different ways, but you could never find more wildly contrasting individuals then me, Jon, Alex JD and Zasta.

Zasta is reasonable. He looks at me when I come over and says, “Well, we made the effort to come here and bring our stuff. What if we just play for ourselves. Turn this negativity into positive energy.”

He’s right. And we love to play. But not like this – this is bigger than a club and a band and bad attitudes and big egos.

“Zasta,” I say without emotion, “They wouldn’t give me water.”

I’m not pretending to know how or why Zasta thinks the way he does but I know “water” is a trigger word for him. I’m sure it conjures up passionate feelings of environment, humanity, moistness, wetness, squirting and gushing. Either way he shook his head and simply said, “Let’s go”.

We start the tear down. Malcolm is there. “Thanks for your help, at least for the sound check.” I say to the soundman.

“No problem. Life goes on.” He smiles wondering how I’ll react.

I smile back. “It always does.”

On the way in and out of the bar with our stuff I run into Mannequin Bride. They are totally punked up over the water incident. “Dude! If we knew we wouldn’t have played either! They made us pay for water that’s why I kicked it at the end of our show!” Yeah, these guys are all right.

So we’re all packed up and it’s 11 o’clock in the evening. We’re all there and we want to party it up. We decide to go down the street to get a Mojito at Distillerie.

PART II: TGON goes out. (coming soon!)

I mean all the guys in the band really enjoy hair-pie… I dunno… the clitoris was just in the way. So yeah we cut the clitoris. Yikes now doesn’t that sound fucked up? That sounds almost as bad as the title of track 9… which has nothing to do with the song… but hey… it just sounded too intense to change the title.

So yeah… Abyssmalicious…very fun song to play… one of my favorite riffs is in this song. The problem is we only play it like 4 times and never repeat it!!! Just when you start digging it… kerplow… it’s gone.

When working on the bass line in the opening part, there was a selection of notes that we could use that worked. So fuck it… we just used them all. We ust piled them all in and had a low-end orgie. Hahahahaha

As much as I am all about the bottom end, no pun intended, Jon’s leads in this are just crazy. They really sing and stick in your head.

Abyssmalicious

(lyrics by Schrecker)

You!

You can’t reach me now
I’m gone.

Please help me
I’m falling
I’ve got
That sinking feeling
I don’t know,
Absolve you?
Can’t think of why I’d want to…

Do I wanna die?
I don’t wanna die But I could right now
Do I wanna live?
I don’t wanna live with out you
Does anybody know?
Should anybody know?
The bad thing that we did
Love is vicious

Standing on the edge
Never mind a misstep
Ultra sensitive
Can you feel the world give up
Everything we are
My abyssmalicious baby
Our reflections are in taking
Not giving

There is no love just her
In this fucked up world
We just spin and spin around
Sometimes you have to fight
Just to feel alive
Baby fight with me tonight
Baby fight for me tonight
Baby fight with me tonight

You can’t reach me now.

This spinning world doesn’t care
Love makes ways for me to suffer
Grinding down it is not fair
Crawling like every other fucker

There is no love just dirt
In this fucked up world
We just spin and spin around
Sometimes you have to fight just to feel alive
Baby fight with me tonight
You will not be hurt more than you deserve
Now watch as I get ripped apart
Till my dying day I will see your face
Sad girl you broke me hard
They deny what they feel but it’s all crystal clear to me now
Sad girl!

You can’t reach me now!

Since I knew the song we wanted to track that one right away and release a 3 song EP as a sort of teaser to the album. This is the last song that was recorded with my Mesa Boogie amp. Fuck I hated the way that thing was playing with my head. We had done a live show in Ste-Julie and it crapped out on me at the beginning of the gig.

I could not hear myself on stage but could faintly hear myself in the house system. We all have our issues. My thing is this: I have this belief that inanimate objects are out to get me… That amp would work fine in the studio and then KERPLOW… bitch would not work in live situations. I finished the track and days after we were playing at this grade school in the gymnasium. Sound check… hmmmm… the lights are on but nobody’s home. I wanted to go for a 3 pointer with it at the other end of the gymnasium. I did the gig with an amp Schrecker had at the studio… luckily someone that was coming to the show lived close-by and brought it for us.

After that gig I complained to this guy named Shawn at Mesa Boogie in California and sent it in to get it fixed for free. Once I got it back I sold it… I did not even bother to turn it on and try it out. I was done with it and I got something waaaaaaaaaaaaay better.

So yeah… the recording of the song…. uhhh well…. it went pretty quickly. It has a punk feel in the chorus and I never really played punk stuff. I actually do not even listen to any. The thing with TGON is that nothing is really specific in genre. The song has a punk feel to it… but it has a little TGON twist that makes it sound different. That’s one of the many things I like about this band and our music. We can do anything musically and it will fit in context to everything we have done previously or anything to come in the future.

Hey… we might even write a song about throwing inanimate objects and call it Butt-plug.

Plugrut

lyrics by Schrecker

Surrender
It’s your time tonight
Nothing by starlight
Holding you down

Let yourself go
What’s holding you back
Let yourself go
Who’s holding her…

No gravity
You can’t face this
The world won’t turn
Cuz you know she’s with him

Whatever
It’s her time tonight
Nothing but starlight
Holding her down…

No hiding place
The world won’t turn
Not until we fix this

This is the end time tonight
Nothing but starlight holding…
Nothing is left at all

Figures of eight…
What do you care?
We don’t have a prayer!
What do I care?
Why should I?

I have got this feeling
That her feet don’t touch the ground
I don’t know what she’s saying
But I love to watch her mouth
Heaven dies upon her lips…

I have got this feeling
That it’s happening again
I don’t know what she’s saying
But she’ll be saying it to him.
I don’t know what she’s doing
But she’ll be doing it to him.
This goddamn feeling
That every thing must end.

Give it all up!

Let yourself go
What’s holding you back?
Let yourself go
What’s holding you down?
We’re out of control
What’s holding you back?
Let yourself go
Who’s holding you?

No gravity
I will fix this
Then the world
Will spin again

Heaven surrendered tonight
It’s nothing but starlight
Nothing at all.

It’s happening again
I don’t know what she’s saying
But I love to watch her mouth
I don’t know what she’s doing
Whatever and ever.

Ok… ok… ok… ok…. I guess you need to have a sense of humour to understand this one. I have my flaws but I do think that I have a decent sense of humour. The critics really hate this one… especially the part that says that your mother is « a slut slut slut »… well face it PAL… she probably is. Does that upset you? To know that your mom likes to get rammed in her poontang? That she likes to get her nipples pulled on while getting smacked on her ass and called a dirty whore?

Sexuality (as fucked up as some people’s habits are) is part of life and that’s what the record reflects… life and the Earth and what mankind has done to it. Doing the nasty is just one aspect of it. Ok enough with that… if you don’t « get it » you never will.

Now back to MY experience with this song. « This is about me now isn’t it? » he asks himself as he takes another sip from the bottle. Fuck another empty one! Kat is sleeping and in pain so I am drinking and writing because I have to occupy my brain.

OK here we go : I had been having some trouble in live situations with my Mesa Boogie bass amp. At the first live show we did… the fucking thing was as loud at 3 as it was at 10… I knew something was up. I wanted to throw the fucking thing. We start tracking this song and half way through… the amp starts crackling and making all kinds of noise. I was really happy with the way it sounded at first, but I guess I got a lemon … a little sissy of an amp that nobody wanted… the runt of the litter. OK I do not have patience for this shit… kerplow… days later I purchase a mammoth amp and start all over. GLOCKEN – what? « The Earth shakes » Jon is at the studio and wants to try his preamp into my amp and cab… shazzam… the 15 inch speaker in the cab hyperextends and I am fucked again. Gotta wait to get a new one.

I think I forgot to mention… if you fuckers have not noticed… that this song is a complete mindfuck to learn and play. The structure and parts are all over the place. All slutty like. Hmmmm how fitting to such a song with such a title. I guess the critics did not pick up on that…. Ooops sorry back to MY experience again… it is all about ME now. Me me me me me me me me me me me.

Ok where was I? How the fuck should I know? Anyways the song is done and it’s all slutty… just like your momma!

PornoZing

Lyrics by Schrecker

Oh
She’s a blood red light
Little fucker’s gonna ruin your life
She’s a hot little devil
You’ll think you’re in hell

And I want…
And I want… Her
She was made to make me suffer

She’s too young!
Oh! I don’t wanna… No!
A word she has no use for!
PornoZing!!!
Ah Ah
You know I love a good slut

And I want…
And I want… Her!

It’s just that fucking her is driving me wild!

See how she looks so sweet and innocent
When she just loves to fuck me up
Her little smile for a simple love song
Porno
Zing!!!

She flows through me like a poison
Then I know I’ve got to nail her
Oh wow!
She’s so damn dirty when she’s going down
And she’s going down like crazy
Oooo
Suck it!

I fuck you!
You want me to!
Can’t you see I’m dying for ya
Can’t you see I’ve had it
The girl I love is a slut

Slut, slut, slut, slut, slut, slut,
She’s a slut, slut, slu-u-u-ut!
Just like her mama!

Can’t you see I’m dying for ya
(I fuck you)
Can’t you see our love is killing me
(You fuck me too!)

You fuck up my world and make me think it’s alright x3

Oh she’s the perfect sin
If she lets you in
She’ll show you what you cannot imagine
Where’d she learn to do that
Ooo she’s just so young
I got a one track mind
Pussy!

You fuck up my world and make me think it’s alright
You fuck up my world!

She flows through me like a poison
Then I know I’ve got to nail her, nail her!
Ahhhhhh!
“Fuck Time” is written on her school bag
She’s a slut and I love her fucking ass!
Suck it!
Wow!
She’s a slut but you love her and that’s alright
She’s a slut and I love her!
I LOVE HER FUCKING ASS!

I fuck you!
You want me to!!!!

Blood red light you slut you!
Fuck you!
I suffer just to touch you!
PornoZing! And a love song
Slut, slut, slut!

Can’t you see I’m dying for ya!
Can’t you see I’ve had it!