hiroshima yeah!

issue 14 � april 2006

�looking at me, you�ll never find out what a working man�s about� � john martyn

This issue is dedicated to Ivor Cutler (1923-2006)
Written by Mark Ritchie, Tom Quinn & Dan Susnara

RUMINATION ON CHILDHOOD
Things were simpler then.
I saw romance in everything.
Great possibilities.
I saw beauty in ugly things.
Concrete motorways,
tower blocks,
graffitied playgrounds.
Hope was everywhere.
I could almost TASTE it.
The rain would make me feel safe.
I would watch it cascade down
the window pane on another
afternoon off school.
Cups of tea and black and white films.
Warm glow of the fire.
Dreams of future glories.
Places I�d go and things I�d do.
All captured in that endless downpour.
As I waited for life to begin.

THE CAT
The cat climbs higher
and higher up the tree.
He�s a timid little thing
but is fearless as he scales that trunk,
chasing a bird or a squirrel
or a dream.

Suddenly he realises he�s up too high
and can�t get back down without tumbling
through the leaves and snapping branches.
He feels so undignified as he falls,
but still manages to land on his feet.
This time.

It�s in the cat�s nature to do this.
To climb trees and to fall and to eventually die.
And, when a cat dies, he does so alone.
Away from everyone,
dreaming of all the squirrels and the birds
he�s known.

INSOMNIA
Heart pounding,
I lie in the darkened room
trying to catch my breath.
Insane thoughts crawl through
my head like buzzing insects.
Ways I could die.
That pain in my side can't
be a good sign.
Maybe it's cancer
or the beginnings of liver failure.
All those days, weeks, months
and years of abusing my body.
This is where it's lead.
Lying awake in the permanent
onset of panic.
Another long, dark
night of the arsehole.

ROMANCE
He sits by the window
looking down on the street below.
The trees are still bare
even though it's spring
and he can see down into
the dark and dirty water
of the river.
People are walking their dogs
on it's banks
but a woman was raped
and murdered down there
about six or seven months ago.
For years he has been obsessed
with people who go missing
and who commit suicide.
He can't help but see
a twisted romance in that sort of thing,
even though he knows it
isn't really romantic at all.
He doesn't find murder and rape romantic.
He doesn't find illness romantic.
But he sees something glorious
in that unending road.
Something glorious
in walking away and never returning.
And he sees something beautiful
and noble
in the rope or the gun or the final
jump from the high bridge.
Of ending it on your own terms,
before the governments, the wives
or the landlords wear you down.
Yes, he thinks, as he sits
by the window,
that wouldn't be a bad way to go at all.

SATURDAY SHOPPING
Bright aircraft hangar
filled with chattering shoppers.
Boy scouts packing bags,
�two-for-one� offers.
Down-trodden husbands
and their plump, painted wives.
The sadness and futility
of our bleak little lives.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME
In 1973, I was one.
The country was on a three-day week
and electricity was rationed.

In 1979, I was seven.
Margaret Thatcher became prime minister
and would soon destroy the unions
and privatise much of the country�s industry.

In 1983, I was eleven.
My grandfather died of a heart attack
and we all blamed the drunk neighbour
who was in the house with him when it happened.

In 1987, I was fifteen.
The drunk neighbour died
and my family threw a party.

In 1991, I was nineteen.
I got fucked-up on acid that re-wired my brain forever
(and not for the better).

In 1995, I was twenty-three.
I took an overdose of vodka and pills
and had to go to hospital to have my stomach pumped out.

In 2002, I was thirty.
I got knocked down by a car late one night when I was drunk,
breaking my leg and scarring me for life.

Now it�s 2006 and I�m about to turn thirty-four.
I�ve not learned a single thing
and I�m about to turn thirty-four.

CDS
DON CAMPAU � WHERE�S THE WATER? (LONELY WHISTLE MUSIC) http://lonelywhistle.tripod.com
Sometimes it�s hard to tear myself away from Radio 3 and the comforts of my Red House Painters CDs, but a new Don Campau release is always cause for celebration. This is 19  �alternate mixes, outtakes and collaborative tracks� spanning 1998-2005. Like on the recent �Pen Pals 3 & 4� CDs (see �Hiroshima Yeah!� issue 11), some tracks feature Don on lead vocals with instrumental back-up from the likes of Dino DiMuro (who adds rhythm guitar to �Ashes Ascend�). Elsewhere, Don hands over the vocal duties to home-taping mates such as Ken Clinger (�Liquid Camera�) and Charles Rice Goff III (�Entropical Breeze�.) Especially nice are Don�s collabs with his wife, Robin O�Brien, on the title track (a great bass-driven ballad and one of the best things here), �You Fly� (which keeps it in the family even more by featuring lead vocals by Don�s brother, Chris) and �I Never Felt So Sad� (which has an ethereal vocal workout from Robin over some improvised-sounding lead guitar.) The brothers Campau also offer up a lovely, acoustic ballad called �Satisfied� which nearly had me weeping into my rice pudding. The excellent �Dust on the Mirror� and �Cry Me Crazy� show what Don can do when he�s on his own, as do the great instrumental oddities �Anata-wa?� (a nylon string guitar extravaganza) and the jazzy/funky �Barry Goldberg�s Hat�. It�s not ALL good, though, and Tommy Auerbach�s guitar wanking on the 7 minute plus instrumental �Tommy One� sounds like he�s auditioning for Gun N Roses and should have stayed on the cutting-room floor. But, apart from that, this is another fine release from Don Campau and Lonely Whistle.

PAUL DOUC�T - PAUL DOUC�T (KAW) www.geocities.com/kawtapes
(Reviewed by Dan Susnara)
Paul offers some BEAUTIFUL, pure chime-y pop with a distinct West Coast feel to it. This music SCREAMS for the springtime that has been eluding us. It should be blasting out of car stereos everywhere once the warm weather hits! Paul has a GREAT voice; it draws you right into his mood. Coupled with equally great harmonies and guitar work (both electric and acoustic) and thoughtful lyrics, this disc will be one you return to again and again. The progression of these songs is such that, it seems elements are added that makes the next one better, or stronger (or whatever) than the preceding ones (which are ALREADY excellent!!) NOT an easy feat! The electric 12-string (that�s GOTTA be a Ric) on �Lightyear� is GORGEOUS sounding! An instant classic which definitely brings to mind Bram Tchaikovsky (you know, the guys who did �Girl of my Dreams� on �Strange Man Changed Man� in �79 or so). A jangly Byrds-ian masterpiece! Then, an abrupt left turn as �Thank the Stars� slows down the pace, ala Red House Painters/Mark Kozelek. Nice finger-picking on this one, with echo-y keys in the background. �Where my Heart Should Be� is another masterpiece; driving power-pop with it�s addictive �just a hole where my heart should be� chorus and E-boed (?) guitar. �River� switches to an almost traditional folk song mood. Lyrically, this is one of the best songs on the album. I could really relate to this. �Fireworks� is a majestic one! Some BEAUTIFUL chords, melody and overall mood. This one�s a �morning� song for me, I could tell that right away. �Talking about Steve McQueen� definitely has some original subject matter and very creative wordplay. Musically, it brings to mind The Wondermints (maybe their �Mind If We Make Love to You?� album). And some VERY melodic accompanying leads, great capoed acoustic guitar and lyrics on �Back to You�. Overall, an excellent release from a very talented individual! I�ll be wearing this one out once we get our lousy �two-weeks-of-summer� here in Chicago! Highly recommended!

MORRISSEY � YOU HAVE KILLED ME (ATTACK)
Despite the fact that I got quite a thrill buying this in Virgin at the very moment it was being played loudly on their shit in-house radio station, this is a rather under-whelming single to herald the, supposedly GREAT, new album. It�s the kind of song Morrissey could probably write in his sleep (perhaps he did?). Lyrically, it�s pretty much business us usual, with Moz going on about how crap his life is (yeah, being a millionaire pop icon and living in Rome must be FUCKING SHIT!) It�s MILES away from the genius of The Smiths, or even the thrilling comeback singles he released in 2004. All the recent interviews say he�s �found love� but the only clue here are the lines �I entered nothing/And nothing entered me/Until you came with the key�.. Oo-er! Who KNOWS what it all means? The extra tracks (or �B-sides� as I still prefer to call them), stretched over two discs for maximum rip-off potential, are �Good Looking Man About Town� (which sounds like a Bhangra Beatles), a rather duff (and overlong) version of a rather duff New York Dolls song (�Human Being�) and �I Knew I Was Next�, which is the best of the bunch, where Moz intones that �a decent skin is all I am�. On a positive note, the photos on the sleeve are very nice (Morrissey laying, suicide-styleee on a railway line, looking impatiently at his watch). I�m just pleased to have contributed a few more pennies to the old boy�s retirement fund.

MORRISSEY � RINGLEADER OF THE TORMENTORS (ATTACK)
And here IS that, supposedly great, new album! Firstly, what a TERRIBLE title. It sounds like a fucking Harry Potter book! The cover shot of Moz pretending to play the violin is amusing enough and he�s REALLY gone to town with all the �I�ve moved to Rome� stuff (the album is subtitled �Registrato e Mescolato a Roma in Autumno� � whatever THAT means). On first listen, I wasn�t sure about this. About half the songs sounded good and the rest sounded a bit ropey, but I REALLY ought to know by now that great records need time to grow on you - and that�s exactly what�s happened with this. Even �You Have Killed Me� has wormed it�s way into my head and I now realise it really IS a great single after the slagging I gave it above, with subtle religious imagery masquerading as throwaway lines about gay Italian film directors (thanks to Andrew for pointing that out!) Of the other 11 tracks here, there are some true stunners, such as the Eastern-influenced opener �I Will See You in Far Off Places�, the next single �In the Future When All�s Well�, the epic and cinematic blub-fest �Life is a Pigsty� (part of which sounds REALLY like a Beatles song that I can�t quite put my finger on.. answers on a postcard, please), the storming �I Just Want to See the Boy Happy� and the lovely, optimistic (!!) closer �At Last I Am Born�. Yes, it really DOES seem that old misery guts is now writing from a slightly less pessimistic viewpoint (though he�s no less self-obsessed, with eight out of the 12 tracks having either the word �I� or �me� in the title). Special mentions must also go to the charming children�s choir that pops up on a couple of tracks (hearing a bunch of kids singing �There is no such thing in life as normal� is a truly wonderful treat!) Also, it�s obligatory when reviewing this album to mention that it was produced by Tony Visconti and also features a string section by Ennio Morricone. It wouldn�t be a Morrissey album without the odd crap song, though, and here �The Father Who Must Be Killed� fits that category (although it�s STILL not bad enough to drag it down to the level of previous stinkers like �Bengali in Platforms� or pretty much every track from �Kill Uncle�). This is definitely the best record Morrissey�s made in years.

BELLE & SEBASTIAN � THE BLUES ARE STILL BLUE (ROUGH TRADE)
The only thing I have to say about this is that I saw the cover photo being taken round the corner from my flat about a month ago (Stuart Murdoch, the singer out of Belle & Sebastian lives upstairs from me). Two guys dressed in sort of ned/chav style gear (Burberry and baseball caps.. yuk!) and a female with big thick �I�m dead clever, me� specs. For some reason, Murdoch decided to put on a stupid fake Yank accent while singing this song. Don�t know why but it�s okay despite that.

SHIRLEY HORN � HERE�S TO LIFE (VERVE)
Recorded in 1992 but sounding completely timeless, this music evokes the mood of late-night jazz clubs where lonely punters smart through the Gitanes smoke and down shots of absinthe with tears in their eyes, as they recall lost loves and hopes. Produced and arranged by Johnny Mandel, this album has Shirley (who sadly died last year, when this was given a long overdue reissue) crooning beautifully through 11 string-laden standards like the Gershwin�s �Isn�t it a Pity?� and Rodgers and Hart�s �You�re Nearer�. It�s gorgeous of course.

THE MAJESTIC TWELVE � SCHIZOPHRENOLOGY www.themajestictwelve.com
Kenyata Sullivan � what a guy! From his previous band, the eclectic Pandora�s Lunchbox, to his amazing and intimate solo recordings (three cassettes of which were released by my own Kaw label. There�s a CD compilation coming soon called �You�re Soaking in It�), I�ve been in love with his music since around 1993. His latest band, The Majestic Twelve, put out a fantastic CD in 2002 called �Searching for the Elvis Knob�, which I still play a lot to this day (especially the track �I Don�t Have a Job� � that one ALWAYS puts a big smile on my face!) Now here�s the follow-up and it�s been worth the wait. Spoken-word and militaristic drum rolls lead into �Welcome to the City�, a splenetic and somewhat ominous beginning. You can tell straight away that this is an altogether darker set of songs than appeared on the band�s debut release, and it soon becomes clear why. 'Condoleezza, Check My Posse' throws down some nifty political comment in a whimsical B-52s/Dead Kennedys stylee, while (later on) �Thank God Everything on TV is a Lie� ups the ante with lyrics like �We�re winning hearts and minds with every bullet in Iraq�. �Break It And Breathe� sounds like the future MTV heavy-rotation hit (like Daniel Johnston before them, the band have already been played on the channel, despite not even having a record deal) while �American Rage� showcases some scary primal screaming, before dissolving into a lovely piano motif. But it�s deep at the heart of the CD, when the Majestic ones break out the melancholia rather than the rage, that this release really starts to come alive for me (regular readers will know that I�m a miserable FUCK!) �Cry� manages to update and perfect the quiet/loud thing that EVERYONE was doing in the early �90s, whereas �Trapped Under Water� is plaintive and pretty while still managing to rock. Naturally, though, my very favourite things here are �Grandfather�, one of those BEAUTIFUL piano ballads that Kenyata does so brilliantly (his voice cracking with emotion, it�s enough to break the hardest heart) and �Whispering�, an impassioned song about family ties which soothes your troubles away with great shimmering guitar and female backing vocal action (plus some down-home fiddle and banjo-picking at the end). Finally, here�s a quote from the band�s website (taken from an interview Kenyata did with a local paper) which neatly sums up why I love the guy - �Do what you love, do it to the best of your ability, and work every day to do it for the rest of your life.  Make records that you can listen to all alone at 3:00 in the morning and smile, whether anyone else likes them or not. And it doesn't matter if you're rich or poor, famous or unknown, respected or laughed at - if you wake up in the morning and get to do what you love, you win.� For more of Kenyata�s wit and wisdom see the interview elsewhere in this issue, kids!

FOR �HARLOW�S MONKEYS� � FOR �HARLOW�S MONKEYS� (CURORCUROR) www.geocities.com/curorcuror
A weird side-project from Blackpool mentalists Ceramic Hobs, this is a 3� (!) CD-R with the usual odd sleeve-notes which don�t even make the name of the �project� clear (the only way I could actually figure it out was to go to the label website (see above), but I�m STILL none the fucking wiser, to be honest). This was �recorded live at dawn� in some wood and it�s creepy and lo-fi and sounds like something which would give you nightmares if you were to listen to it too close to bedtime. It�s a limited edition of 50 copies, so if you want to be spooked, get your skates on. It�s �3, which is about the same price as a bottle of cheap cider. If you mix the two together, you�ll probably end up killing your neighbours.

LITTERBUG � SPEAKING THROUGH THE GAPS (JUST SAY NO TO GOVERNMENT MUSIC) www.litterbug.jsntgm.com
Another disc from the dazzling lights of Blackpool. Litterbug used to be the one-man band of Stuart Diggle (think I made a Buzzcocks �joke� LAST time I reviewed one of his CDs, so I�ll resist the temptation this time), but now they are a fully-fledged four-piece band who do proper gigs and everything. This is a seven-track mid-price (�pay no more than �3/$6� says the printed-on-the-cover �sticker�, reminding me of all those right-on anarchist singles from the �80s.. and Billy Bragg records) CD and I was instantly struck by the female vocalist (although my favourite tracks are the ones where she�s not singing lead) and the hooky nature of the songs. �Open Space�, �A Simple Contradiction� and �Looking Back Then�  (which name-checks �The High Chapperal�!) are all very good indeed and would probably sound life-altering if you were driving down the road in an open-topped car after stealing all your dying dad�s morphine.

SOUTH SAN GABRIEL � THE CARLTON CHRONICLES (MUNICH)
I�d heard good things about this lot for a while and, after someone sent me a naughty bootleg, I picked this up for a shocking price in a Virgin Mega-Snore (couldn�t find it anywhere cheaper � or anywhere else AT ALL, in fact). Was a bit shocked when I took off the security tag in the safe confines of a tacky Wetherspoon�s pub (is there any other kind?) while nursing a soda water and lime, to discover that it�s � gasp � a CONCEPT ALBUM (!) About a CAT (!!) How fucking shit does THAT sound?! Well, actually, it�s NOT shit AT ALL, there are some rather lovely songs on this, with pedal steel and impassioned vocals and �Predatory King Today� and �I Feel Too Young to Die� make me GLAD I gave that cunt Dickie Branson �15 for this.

ZINE
IDWAL FISHER (ISSUE 6)
PO Box 147, Cleckheaton, West Yorkshire, BD19 6WY / [email protected]
Usually I wouldn�t be mad keen to pick up a �harsh noise experimental weird shit drone� zine but Mark Wharton�s writings have kept me entertained for years now. This latest issue of �Idwal Fisher� dispenses with the usual travelogues (Mark�s always jetting off to exotic climes) and articles about charity shops in favour of reviews of tonnes of bands I�ve never heard (and, for that matter, who I don�t WANT to hear). Charming bands with names like Filthy Turd, Long Live Death, Broken Penis Orchestra, Sickness and Fucking. I�m afraid the apparent humour in the noise scene has always completely passed me by. I find it all unbearably puerile and pointless, but Mark writes about it with such a passion that even I�m slightly swept away. I still prefer his travelogues, though! This issue is available for �2 or 3 Euros or $5.

GIGS
GOD STALKER � GIRDWOOD�S, WISHAW, 19TH MARCH 2006
Wishaw is a town so irredeemably grubby it makes you want to have a good wash as soon as you�re on the train out of there. My only reason for being here on this grey and desolate Sunday night is to witness the debut live performance of local tykes God Stalker. Formed from the ashes of various other long-lost bands, they manage to create an awesome maelstrom of noise within the confines of a tiny venue more used to bearing witness to some extremely crap dancing at the Friday night �indie� disco (whatever �indie� means these days). It�s testament to the band�s material that their original songs are lapped up just as hungrily as the cover-versions (of which there are several � the band having only been in existence a scant few weeks). The local punk/pop grapevine had obviously been working overtime, as kids probably not old enough to be admitted sing along to fast-paced tales of murder, mayhem and even sometimes love, all delivered in a breathless howl by a front-man who, rumour has it, is the offspring of Scottish comedy legends the Krankies! I kid you not! By the end of the band�s blistering 30-minute set, sweat is dripping from the walls and I make a hasty exit for the door and the train station, glad to have witnessed such an incendiary debut show from a band whose name is definitely one to watch in the coming months.

MARK EITZEL � CABARET VOLTAIRE, EDINBURGH, 2ND APRIL 2006
Michael ran me to West Calder for about 3pm and I got on the rail replacement bus and read my book till it left 10 minutes later. It stopped at all sorts of wee stations but I was the ONLY passenger and I didn't even have to PAY! The driver let me off near Waverley station and I went straight for the Guildford Arms
to meet Gary (he'd phoned while I was on the bus). This was 4.30pm. Got a pint of Best bitter and waited for him to arrive. He was about 10 minutes late and we sat and chatted for a while. I had a couple of pints of Best then a London Pride and then we walked to this rocky type pub called Bannermans. There was some live band playing and a load of punks came in while Gary was outside having a smoke. I had a pint of Frau, or something, in there and then we went to the Hollyrood Tavern, which was a huge (and practically empty) place. The barman was a guy with long grey hair, a beard, purple leggings and painted nails. Great! I had a pint of 80 Shilling and Gary had a cider then we walked to the Cabaret Voltaire, singing AMC songs. Gary was a bit pissed though and couldn't fucking find it! I was getting more and more agitated until we eventually found it and went in. Gary bought the drinks as I went into the toilet and readied my mini-disc. Stood next to Scot from Glasgow, who held my drink as I went and tried to start the mini-disc recording (Eitzel was just coming on stage, at about 8.30pm). He played a great set, with what looked like a new (or maybe borrowed) acoustic guitar with the word 'ocean' on it. He played a few new songs and I loved it (at one point I was even thinking Eitzel was like Jesus, with the light hitting him the way it did � though maybe that was because I�d not had a drink in almost a week!) but i was also worried that I wasn't getting a recording of the show ('cos I'd never used the mini-disc that much before). Near the end of the set, I moved down to the front (where Gary was) as there were some twats talking and chucking their empty glasses onto the floor. After the set, we met Alan, who'd missed the start of the show and wasn't recording it this time (he usually does). We 'jumped' Eitzel as he was going out (well,
actually, he went out and then came back in again) for a photo opportunity. I said something about having my photo taken with Bob Mould, �so now it�s only you and Judy Garland�, to which he replied �Great singer�.  Then me and Gary finished our beer, left and tried to get a  taxi back to his. Eventually got one and ended up in his flat right next to the beautiful River Forth. We played CDs, sang songs and played guitar in his little room with it's mystical books and incense and stuff and drank beer till  after 3am. Then I went into the living room which resembled something out of an antiques shop, lay on the couch and listened to my recording of the gig, which amazingly came out really well. Then I went to sleep.

BOOK
WILLY VLAUTIN � THE MOTEL LIFE (FABER)
This is the debut novel from the singer of the brilliant band Richmond Fontaine and it reads like an extended version of one of his songs (the lyrics of which are mostly all like short stories anyway). The plot concerns two brothers who get themselves into all sorts of trouble when one of them accidentally runs over and kills a boy out riding his bicycle. Instead of admitting the deed, the brothers hit the road and we�re taken into a succession of cheap motel rooms, seedy bars and casinos, where nothing ever seems to go right for anybody. It�s not as bleak as it sounds, though. Vlautin manages to make all of this sound unbearably romantic and most of the characters here are essentially good people who just happen to find themselves in bad situations. It�s almost always snowing in the book and, considering it�s set (like most of Vlautin�s songs) in Reno, Nevada, that came as something of a surprise to me. The novel is also interspersed with drawings from Nate Beaty which capture the down-at-heel romance of the book�s locations excellently. If you�re a fan of Richmond Fontaine, or of writers like Dan Fante, Bukowski and Raymond Carver, you should own this.

DVD
FACTOTUM (ICON)
With typical irony, I found myself watching this trawl through the netherworld of heavy boozing, crap jobs and lonely rooms while SOBER (for the first time in years, I�m trying to cut down drastically on my drinking � probably more about that in future issues). It�s �based on the writings of Charles Bukowski� and Matt Dillon plays Buk�s fictional alter-ego Henry Chinaski with gusto. There are a couple of bits which are lifted almost 100% from the 1980�s film �Barfly� (which Bukowski scripted) but that�s understandable as he tended to repeat himself in a lot of his autobiographical writings. Oddly, even though the film is set in Los Angeles, it was filmed in St Paul, Minnesota, so it looks dark and dull most of the time, but I suppose that suits the mood of the piece quite well. The extras are good too � 15 minutes of deleted scenes and a short film based on the Bukowski poem �Horseshoe�. A must-buy for any fan of one of the USA�s finest ever writers.

INTERVIEW WITH KENYATA SULLIVAN OF THE MAJESTIC TWELVE

1. How do you go about writing songs? Do you bring complete songs to the band or is it a more collaborative process?

It's pretty different with each song, but right now we're all writing together in the bandroom.  My guys are pretty tolerant of me being a demanding little prick, and they kind of let me arrange as we go.  It's a lot of  fun, I'm really enjoying the process (aka: they haven't killed me and put my head on a stick yet!)  It's been a good while since I brought a complete song to the band, everyone else has such great ideas.

2. On the new CD, there's a bit of political commentary on a few tracks. Why do you think so many US bands are writing political songs these days? (Stupid question, maybe?!)

Because we're all pissed off at our dumbass President!  There are several political songs on the new one, because it's been on my mind a lot lately. I think we're living through perhaps the most incompetent and corrupt administration in the history of the United States, and it just flat out pisses me off.  There's a real groundswell here against Bush+company (his approval ratings here in the states are only something like 33%), and I'm praying to God that the midterm elections will take a lot of his power away. Right now he and his cronies control the presidency, the house, and the senate, so basically all sane people are fucked.

3. If all the members of your band were animals, which animals would they be and why?

My guitarist Alex would be ferret because he's sneaky looking and smells kinda musky.  My guitarist Joey is a sloth, but the kind of sloth in the animated movie Ice Age, not the real kind. My drummer Anthony would be a porcupine fish because he makes funny faces and when he lets his hair grow out it's all poofy.  My bassist Mike would be a Muppet.  Well, he actually is a Muppet, so that's cheating.  He's actually made of felt.

4. There's a deep sense of local pride in many of your songs. Would you ever consider moving elsewhere and, if you did, how do you think it would effect your songwriting?

I don't think I'd ever willingly move - I do have a very real and deep love for my home.  I'm sure it would affect my songwriting, but I'm not sure how - I'd probably write a ton of songs about how much I miss it.  I just love my little patch of land by the water, I love the storms, I love the rowdy beachside bars and the commercial fishermen.  This is a good place.

5. I've been enjoying the TV show 'Surface' lately, about sea-monster type beasties. Have you ever seen one of these things, as I believe parts of the show were filmed in Wilmington?

Seen one?!  Me and my buddy Rick Pour from Evolution Digital caught one of those fuckers!  (see attached pic) *

6. A lot of your legendary (!) solo recordings for Kaw Tapes were done on boom-box. Do you ever still record in this very immediate manner or have you gone all high tech these days? Do you ever miss those simple, lo-fi days of long ago (pre-internet, etc)?

Ya know, I'm a big studio guy right now - ironically though, the only reason is that my boombox broke, and I've just been too lazy to figure out how to record at home!  I'm sure that will change over time though.  I do miss the immediacy, and there's a real magic to recording that way if you really feel the songs you're playing.  I miss the pre-internet underground, absolutely - it felt much more hands on, I miss getting crazy mail everyday and wondering what the hell each package was going to hold.  I miss the fact that those of us who were actively involved seemed to know each other a little better. But c'est la vie!  I'd prefer to embrace the present and future, and remember the past fondly instead of longing for its return.

7. If you found yourself suddenly transported to Middle Earth, would you prefer to be a baddie or a goodie?

I'd be a good guy!  I like being the good guy, I think it's swell.  I have a healthy dose of the Andy Griffith Show in me.  I'm really just a small town, aw shucks, six-string, twelve-pack, front porch guy.

8. Are you still as involved in the annual WE Fest as you used to be? And what happened to Bessie's Bar?

In '05 we took a year off from WE Fest, but yep, this year I'm at the helm again!  You should make the trip!  You know, rent a canoe or somethin'. We have some fantastic musicians lined up already like Eyelight (Jehn is moving to NC in May and I'm hoping we'll make a record together in the next year), Tom House (who for my money is the best unrecognized songwriter on the planet), Pattern Is Movement, Nuees Ardentes, Meredith Bragg and The Terminals, The Sharp Things, etc etc etc - it's gonna be a fucking blast.

Bessie's is a bit of a horror story.  Long story short, my "partner" took all the money I put in that was supposed to fix up the place, and instead spent it on online gambling and blow.  The bar went under, I'm still in serious debt, and it's a pisser.  But I learned a lot, and I'll get through it.  But there's no doubt that that whole experience left me pretty hornswaggled, I got conned like an all day sucker, and will be paying for it for a while.

9. What are your plans for 2006?

Just more of the same!  Make more records (best case scenario: another new Majestic Twelve disc, a disc with Jehn Cerron, a disc with my son Bremen, and a disc of dirty Christmas songs to sell on late night tv.  Plus, I need to finish sequencing my lo-fi disc for KAW!)  We'll be promoting like mad, making videos, all kinds of fun stuff, and selling all our shit on eBay to pay for it all.  Viva la eBay!  We just wanna keep on doing stuff we like, you know, that's it.  Just keep creating things and trying not too suck too bad.

*NOTE-Kenyata attached a pic of himself and a mate holding one of the actual creatures from the show, along with a piece of paper saying �Kaw Rocks!� Sadly, due to space constraints and the fact I don�t want my printer to run out of ink AGAIN, I�m unable to print it � but I will happily email it to anyone who wants to see evidence of the most amazing discovery since sea monkeys!

POEMS by Tom Quinn

CAF�
Inside this place, breathing in smoke and breakdowns, people wait.
This busy and solitary room punctuated with coffee and ashtrays, finding contentment in the noise of the big silver machine that froths and laughs all day long.
A meeting place for secret lovers.
A refuge for the lonely.
There is a beautiful uniformity in here. The slow stirring could make you cry, the teaspoons lament.
There is greatness in the grubbiness of this fractured place.
Unchanged for years. Holding secrets in its yellowing walls.
Decades of daydreamers, druggies, and the disaffected pour in here,
escape for a while from the outside.
Leaving behind their essence for the lost to breathe in with their cigarettes.
A woman cries into her four hour coffee.
It's only Tuesday.

UNTITLED 1
Inside the room the air is empty
Only echoes of the night before remain
A stale reminder of cigarettes and loneliness
Music and madness in the ether.
No curtain calls or company for the soul
Exiled in emptyness
Dreaming of horses
Finding contentment in irregular breaths
Sweetly swallowing solitude.

UNTITLED 2
Dead man dancing in Hollow Dream.
A vision of wonder for the wino
and the man at the bus stop
with the lazy eye.
Hordes of hooligans
rush towards the sun.
Busy being empty.

UNTITLED 3
Am feeling reflective.
Am deconstructing my past.
In doing so I concluded that
there are no memories that comfort.
No great epiphanies.
There are only shadows and dust.
With each year the dust settles.
Another layer of fractured memories
and fractured minds.

UNTITLED 4
Poetic ramblings
collide inside axons,
pulsing towards neurosis.
Electricity and music explode
inside icy veins and
the blood races towards
the blackened heart.
One last angry jerk and
the spastic motions cease.
A final exhale
bordering on a scream.
Silence.
Decomposition.
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