mplr1

Robert Inhuman interview with Luke Tandy of Skeleton Dust Recordings (Muncie IN) 03/15/06

Luke: What is the definition/purpose of Realicide?

Robert: This is a term I came up with when I was about 18, just out of high school with a slight sense of clarity coming from the super-regulated high school environment and looking back with a lot of reflexive hostility, wanting to advise alternatives or at least awarenesses to kids still a few years younger than me. Its original attitude was escapist (kill that mean reality), angst without much practical direction, but that changed over time the way anything you relate to changes after long periods of involvement and strengthened familiarity. The bleak depressive self-destruction changed to celebratory and ecstatic existential attitudes, still partly self-destructive but with a vigor and confrontational nature that wasn't present when I was in my teens. The band and surrounding activities became a very blunt endorsement of taking-charge, claiming legit identity, re-defining and re-claiming cultural terms like "punk", "hardcore", "rave", etc. Disregarding the desperately insecure taboos and academic egotism that has been bred into youth culture after the decline of these cultures' initial spurt of true power, or at least attempting to provide the latest revival of this true power and NOT through retro aesthetics and regulated stereotyped techniques, impotent shit like that I see fail in the form of "flavor of the weak" shit year after year. Punk is not about aesthetics, music, or PREDICTABILITY, these are merely byproducts of the lives being lived and oughta be specific to contemporary life.

What does Realicide mean to you?

The desire and ability to shape your own life, to create and amplify an identity, and to be contagious. The easiest way to break it down REAL-CIDE into REAL-DEATH (anti-hypothetical death, no jokes) --- death synonymous with a change. The most drastic way to change your physical life, for example, is death. But I'm talking about all changes, not just the ones like that, so it becomes REAL-CHANGE. It is a reminder that I can't be afraid or hesitant to assert myself, be someone I feel is the most accurate and relevant representation of what I am non-physically.

The Realicide crew has several members, and each them have their own way of expression. Aside from music, what other mediums of expression are utilized by Realicide?

Performance and physical acts, not to be confused with music, is #1 on the list. Also talking, photography, collage, drawing/painting, graffiti and street art (xerox pasting, signage, stickers, etc.), writing writing writing, video, digital media pertaining to all of these too of course. We want to learn more about less physical media too, not really like software, I mean psychic media, but some of us are a lot more interested in that field than others.

“Real Death, Real Change” by Luke Tandy 04/11/06

The screeching, ultra-high frequency tone stabbed at my eardrums like a thousand hypodermic needles. SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH. Then came the screaming; screaming of life and death. It burned a path through my soul with the feeling of a red-hot knife. What was this that I was hearing, seeing, thinking? The rapid fire beats of the drum machine relentlessly pummeled my body into exhaustion. Then, more feedback. SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH. The tone finally pierced my eardrums, pushed its way through my flesh, and drilled through my skull into my mind. At some point, the speakers were shut off and things began to go back to a somewhat normal state. Yet something had changed inside of me. The sounds that soaked my body only moments ago gave way to a metamorphosis. Questions arose in my mind; What is music? What is art? What is expression? What is Realicide?

On that fateful evening of January 28, 2005, I went to Cincinnati, Ohio, to see a show. To this day, I’m not really sure why I had decided to go to that particular show. I had never heard of any of the bands, let alone heard their music. It’s not something I do everyday; drive an hour and a half to see bands that I never knew existed prior to that. Looking back on it, it might have been a feeling; a feeling that contained within itself the desire to experience something new, something real. What I got was definitely real. It was honest, unadulterated, and pure. It opened my eyes and mind to ideas, thoughts, and concepts about life that I had never imagined before. Who says that music (or any form of artistic expression) has to have rhythm and harmony? Why do I need to worry about what to wear, what music to listen to, what to say, how to act? Is there a rule that says that I’m required to get a nine-to-five in a fifty-story office building in downtown Chicago? Did it also say that I must be happily married by twenty-five with three beautiful children?

So the first question: What is Realicide? According to Robert Inhuman, founder of Realicide, “Realicide is a term I came up with when I was about eighteen, just out of high school with a slight sense of clarity coming from the super‑regulated high school environment and looking back with a lot of reflexive hostility, wanting to advise alternatives or at least awareness to kids still a few years younger than me.” (By the way, I should mention that Robert was the one that introduced my eardrums to the copious amounts of microphone feedback.) Robert is a young man, 23 years old to be exact. He is unmarried and works various temporary jobs as they become available. When I asked Robert about his current job, he claimed to be “guilty by association”; he has a night shift at an American Eagle-esque clothing store in which he folds shirts and pants. Robert normally wears either combat boots or black Chuck Taylors, with his pants often tucked into them. It’s always exciting to see what t-shirt he is going to be wearing, because they are each different and interesting in their own aspects. My personal favorite was from a show on March 9^th, 2006, in Cincinnati. It was a plain black t-shirt with a silk-screened image of an Uzi 9mm submachine gun; simple, yet unforgettable. His jet black hair is currently fashioned in a mohawk style, which is always subject to change. Upon first glance of Robert, he might seem a little frightening. His physical appearance gives off the “I wouldn=t want to run into this guy in a dark alley” impression, but once a conversation is struck up with him, your pre-existent thoughts about him fade away. Not only is his choice of intelligent vocabulary particular interesting, he is one of the nicest guys I have ever met, period.

Back to Realicide. As mentioned previously, it first began when Robert was in his late teens, fed up with the structured system of midwestern life. Like so many teenagers, Realicide’s original direction was one of angst without directionBone of escape from the stereotypical high school life.

Realicide began to evolve over time, and soon it wasn’t about just being anti-(fill in the blank). “The bleak, depressive self‑destruction changed to celebratory and ecstatic existential attitudes, still partly self‑destructive but with a vigor and confrontational nature that wasn't present when I was in my teens,” said Robert. Realicide is an Ohio-based, loose collective of individuals who participate in a variety of performance and physical acts (not to be confused with music), which are currently the top priority with the Realicide crew. Robert corrected me when I asked him about his music. To him, music is a glorification of humanity through skills or trades: “Skills, more often than not, distract and mislead away from any true importance. Skillful art is often done to pass large amounts of time in a feeble life thirsty for glory as a default sense of worth and purpose.” Upon reading this statement, I felt as though I began to understood what he was saying. I mean, yeah, Stevie Ray Vaughn was a good guitarist. Alright, he was an excellent guitarist: so what? What did he ever have to say that was remotely important?

Aside from Realicide (I should clarify that Realicide is not only the name of the collective group of individuals but also the band. Along with Realicide and the several bands within the Realicide crew, membership is always fluctuating.) there are several others that actively participate in the Realicide crew: James Swill, Mavis Concave, Evolve, Ultra//Vires and Nina Wright, to name a few. Swill is known for his poetry and spoken word. Here is an excerpt from one of his writings:

“Power over nothing

Life as a system failure

My powerhouse in flames

My body just a pile”

This perfectly encompasses what Realicide is about; the inevitable power of physical death and unavoidable fate that we must all face. Evolve are Realicide’s closest venture to mainstream music with their socially-charged, alternative hip-hop. Mavis Concave is the co-founder of Realicide and is known for his large collection of drum machines (nine, as of right now). Ultra//Vires are a doom/sludge noise duo from Dayton, Ohio. Nina Wright plays in a band with Mavis called SX (pronounced “sex”). She is also constantly producing works of art including paintings and graffiti pieces.

So who the hell would go to a Realicide performance? It’s hard to imagine hip-hop fans going to a harsh noise show and vice versa. Yet, it happens. When I asked Mavis Concave what his favorite thing about Realicide was, he kindly enlightened me: “Its ability to change lives for the better. Looking back at 2005 and some of the ridiculously powerful and memorable shows we've held, I am proud, honored and grateful to be a part of something that can encourage youth in positive ways. [Realicide] has the ability to crush stereotypes. One specific event that will always stay with me was Heinous Rave 3 in September, 2005. Punks, Goths, Ravers, Suburban Preps, Scene kids, Metalheads, and more buzzword stereotypes were all dancing together to brutal gabber speedcore for hours. After the music was over for the night and I was collapsed in a chair, exhausted as hell, kids just kept coming up to me one after another saying it was the best night of their life, or asking when the next show was, or how to get started making music.”

Robert self-releases Realicide and Realicide-related recordings on his own record label, Realicide Youth Recordings. RYR isn’t your typical record label; not the kind that exploits it’s artists for whatever money they can get out of them. Robert approaches RYR in an alternative manner that focuses more on getting the releases out into the public, rather than making a profit. “All money I make from records or a job regardless goes directly into performance and publication media. The only things I spend money on otherwise are cheap rent, gas, and food, nothing else.” Often, he prefers trades over the transaction of money for his records. It’s impossible to put the music of Realicide in any genre. It takes influences from several different other genres though; punk, gabber, hardcore, noise, hip-hop, spoken word, to name a few. Again he doesn’t want the reader to be confused with definitions of the terms he uses. “Punk is not about aesthetics, music, or PREDICTABILITY; these are merely byproducts of the lives being lived and ought to be specific to contemporary life.” My initial description of Robert’s performance might persuade people to believe that Realicide performances consist of nothing but a cacophony of noise. Of course, this is not true. Here is brief, yet potent excerpt of Robert’s lyrics:

“live like you're being stabbed

live like you're being shot

bite down like your time is up

and quit fronting like it's fucking not”

…As seen, the message of Realicide is greatly expressed with the usage of words.

It’s around 9:30 pm on March 31^st, and I=m standing on a dingy sidewalk in downtown Columbus, Ohio. I can feel the moisture weighing down the air; it’s going to rain soon. I’m having a conversation with Mavis Concave about audio production and recording. Mavis co-founded Realicide with Robert, yet he gives most of the credit to Robert. “Robert of course started it all. The name, concept, and initial forming of the group ‑ later to evolve into the label ‑ were all his doing.” Mavis is tall and thin, but not emaciated. He is wearing a black hooded sweatshirt, which seems to be a staple every time I see him. His hair is short and dark, minus a long clump in the front that he has left to grow out. While speaking with him, I recall the first time I saw him perform. It was a solo performance at Brutal Cincinnati Damage, a two day festival where several midwest bands and artists came to perform their own unique styles of sound. Mavis’s performance was the most captivating of the night. He stood on the small, rickety stage towering over a jungle of tangled wires and pieces of electronic equipment. An assortment of drum machines, samplers, and effects pedals lay before him, waiting to be pushed as far as they could be pushed (electronically, that is). Then, as some might say, all Hell broke loose. Before I had time to process the sounds in my head, a thousand bass drum beats had battered and maimed me. It’s hard to describe events like these for two reasons: 1. It all happens VERY fast, and it is over before you know it. 2. Words cannot accurately describe the energy and the primal nature of these types of performances. Anyway, it happened. And it blew me away.

Mavis speaks with a soft, polite demeanor, a polar opposite compared to when he aurally abuses audiences at his performances. When asked about his definition of Realicide, he clarifies something that most people (including myself) might conclude when seeing the word “realicide.” “I am not interested in ‘killing reality’ as someone might suggest after interpreting the name quickly. Although everyone, including me, has their escapist moments, I am concerned primarily with seeking out real life and real truths. The fear of death and the embrace of the inevitable human death are two extreme factors that can dictate how one lives their short life. In my dreams, I can die endlessly but always go on existing, exploring what death might be like. In reality, I will die one time and one time only, no looking back. This is a constant motivation for me to seek out and understand the truth about my ‘ultimate concern’ what I live, die, and kill for.”