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January 01, 1999

Poe -- The Music Chick, Not The Writer Dude.

This is one of a few articles I did for a Utah music magazine called Grid. Poe ended up reprinting most of it to use as her bio -- she didn't even ask -- I didn't care.


Provo is small, believe me I know. I lived there, worked there, and promoted a lot of wacky ska shows down there. You might even go as far to say that I was Kevin Bacon and Provo was Footloose for seven frustrating years. As many Provoan musicians, creative people and eccentrics in general can attest, most anyone involved in artistic endeavors is likely to know anyone else involved in the same. Or at least know who they are. Not because of the regular family home evening groups for the mentally freaked but because you're basically forced together in a town where fun has been declared illegal. (See city ordinance 51.3b which clearly states that "old people must in all circumstances hate the young people and that even the appearance of fun is to be regarded as eeeeeeevvvvviiilll). The funsters are forced to unite. Now certainly I don't know everyone, but when I found out that Poe was from Provo I was a bit surprised. How could an attractive, creative art weirdo go unseen and then appear later on tour with Lenny Kravitz, having just released a debut album? She was even about my age and I didn't know her or even know anyone that knew her. Dammit! That's just not right. I was going to get to the bottom of this. So I bullshitted these guys at Grid to make them think I could write an article if they could hook up an interview. Lucky for me they're not very smart, ergo completely gullible idiots. They fell for it and I met Poe at the afternoon unplugged show at the lazy moon. I stared at her to try and recall her face and what made it worse was that she kept looking in my direction (turns out she just liked my silky red Guido shirt). Well, knowing how and when to sieze an opportunity, I took her to my own house to interview her. (Of course chaperoned by her lovely manager).

ME: So you're from Egypt, London, New York and Utah and your given name is Balamaveeda Ablomaleekleekvalewsky if I'm not mistaken.

POE: (laughs) Exactly, most people don get it right the first time. Actually I'm basically a New Yorker.. So what is your dog's name?

ME: Senator Ron "CHICO SUAVE" Lopez. His friends just call him Chico. So explain this whole Provo deal. I know you graduated from Provo High.

POE: My dad ended up living there for a little while... He was doing stuff with the Sundance film festival and ended up teaching at Brigham Young. I love this house. Can I live here?

ME: Thank you, and sure, this very room is for rent. You know, DEVO played a private party at Sundance this year and I weaseled my way in.

POE: No way. DEVO? I didn't know they ever played anywhere anymore. Were they just great?

ME : The best band ever! Stop changing the subject. How many years did you actually live in this..... The Beehive state? And where the hell were you hiding?

{Enter Chico who shamelessly beelines to put his nose where ....... where only dogs dare....... what a good dog}

POE: Six years. and I didn't hide (shuffle shuffle)

ME: Chico .....no!..... Leave her alone! ( pretending that I don't think its funny.)

{Poe pretends that the dog was sniffing something else and of course I go along, that is what we do isn't it?}

ME: How come I didn't know you? We're about the same age I think.

POE: Where did you go to school ?

ME: West Jordan....... but I was kind of a freak and freaks knew freaks back then Now every body looks like a freak so it's hard to tell a genuine freak..... What were you like? Were you a break dancer or what?

POE: Well actually I used to go to all the 004 shows (one of the first of Utah's many ska bands.)

ME: So you were a rude girl...

POE: As rude as they came. I used to book 004 down at the women's gym.

ME: I went to those shows . Did you know that group yielded the bass player of Four Non Blondes?

POE: Hey what's goin on ? I had no idea.

ME: And boy are we proud. Did you like Utah when you were here?

POE: Well it was hard to adjust... It was a real culture shock, but after a while I think I really did like it, you know, after I started getting in to the 004 thing. It's really kinda strange that we didn't know each other don't you think?.

ME: Well maybe we did. I'm 94.3% retarded. Did you look the same?

POE: No not really I had really short hair then.

ME: And you wore those flat toothpaste colored round and triangle earrings with pink peg leg pants and white pumps right?

POE: Right, speaking of which, I'm really into the whole mall rat kitsch, If I could just look like early eighties mall rat I'd be totally happy.

{Of course she looks nothing like a mall rat today, she's wearing tall lace up boots and a short black dress with this half glamorous half witchy poo looking coat with feathers and the whole deal, much more sexy than mall rat}

ME: You know they still sell that mall rat stuff brand new in Magna.

POE: Let's go then!....... Oh boy.. whoops.... I think Chico just farted.

ME: Good dog Chico. I guess he can be trained after all, I fed him the cat's food yesterday it has more flavor you know.

POE: You know you can always tell a dog fart, they're not like peoples, they're more acidic.

ME: I agree They have a more flammable quality, a different bouquet altogether, But what about you? Are you eating right? What did you bring with you on tour.

POE: I eat alright, there's always a vegetable tray nearby and I didn't bring very much but I brought the most important stuff though; A portable DAT machine, an ADAT (digital multi track recorder) some mics, you know and a Mackie mix board so we can still write on the road.

{Suddenly we start comparing equipment and talking in a language that any right thinking patriots should not understand , lots of numbers and words like brc eps asr10 mc115 ram rom sync link master slave mother buss midi trigger etc... and quite frankly at this point I'm, a bit buzzed its almost as fun as talking dirty}

ME: You're kind of a techno junkie computer weirdo aren't you?

POE: Kind of .. But you know the nice thing about being a computer weirdo is that if you miss two weeks, suddenly you're not in that category any more because it all evolves so quickly.

ME: I got kicked off America Online for swearing, calling people clammy wart-like cave geeks, and typing in all caps. They said I was screaming but all I heard were little keyboard clickies.

POE: The internet can get kinda crazy, there are some web sites that are pretty cool.... My favorite thing is to download shit that you have no idea what it is... I think I downloaded some top secret government or military files or something once when I got in some hackerland. It was like 22 pages of just 0's and 1's from Norway obviously something highly secretive. (Laughs)

ME: Probably a Norwegian meat loaf recipe.

POE: Right...... like I said .... top secret military stuff.

ME: I thought of actually doing this interview over the internet, that way I wouldn't have to type anything but once, and your part would already be typed....... Half the work.

POE: So you're a lazy bastard , but you know that would have been cool because then I could have lied and said it wasn't me it was my Avatar.

ME: What the hell is an avatar?

POE: You know, another persona, I'd be this guy who's 6"5 and three hundred pounds.

(While I ask silly questions and Chico sniffs, Tyler Gourley is snapping pictures like a loon. The very ones in front of you. She poses with obvious experience or should I say Poe-ses waaaaah waah )

ME: Chico... get out of the picture.

POE: No let him stay

ME: What a pro..... I guess that comes from having been a model once? At least thats what it says in your bio.

POE: That is complete bullshit...... fucking bullshit why does it say that in there? We have to get rid of that. I have a friend much like yourself who took a bunch of pictures of me and one of them somehow ended up on the cover of Mexican Vogue...

ME: Yeah that happens to me a lot.

POE: It was pretty cool and everything but now I have to live down this " Oh yeah and she was a model" bullshit which just isn't true I was never a model nor would I be ...... too boring.

ME: Singing about Psychos and being on tour with Lenny Kravitz was certainly a better choice. How did you choose Poe as a stage-name?

POE: Well its not really just a stage-name, I got really into the story of the Mask of the Red Death when I was a kid.

ME: So .... you were mixed up ?

POE: Yeah I was mixed up, I was going through my death phase. They say at about nine or ten years old you start to come to terms with your mortality and that was me,.... Anyway do you know the story?

ME: Nope

POE: Well I'll tell it then. There's this emperor dude kinda like yourself with this really cool pad kinda like yours and he throws this costume party....

ME: With midgets running about ...kinda like mine?

POE: Oh of course lots of midgets ... and he's got a farting dog named Chico too I believe, But this is during plague time so everyone is quarantined , but he wants to have a party because he thinks that because he is the emperor he is immune. So he has a party and all the socialites come dressed as whatever and somebody has the bad taste to come dressed as the plague. So the emperor decides to follow him into all these rooms much like your rooms... and he finally finds him in the black room and then he of course dies because it really was the plague. So I went to this costume party dressed as the plague and I called myself Poe as in Edgar Allen.

ME: How old were you?

POE: Nine or ten.

ME: Boy you really were tweaked.

POE: Tweaked I was and I swear to god the year before I went dressed as a fairy with little sparkly wings I guess it was just a bad year. But after that I just called myself Poe and it stuck I think a friend of my mothers called her up and asked how Poe was doing and they all thought it was really funny, but I was quite serious about the whole thing I totally adopted it.

ME: Well you've definitely got a serious side, I've read some of you're lyrics.

POE: Yeah but it's just a side.

ME: Speaking of your lyrics, I wore this belt buckle just for you.

POE: Darth Vader.... You're too cool for words. Where did you get that?

ME: Yard sale.... fifty cents. Hey, what is that crap written all over your hand?

POE: Well I got someone's autograph, he asked me for mine and you know fair is fair.

From what I can tell this is fairly typical of Poe. Earlier that afternoon at the unplugged show at the lazy moon with people hovering around asking for autographs and what not I was reminded of Miss Julie from TV'S "The Romper Room Show" smiling chatting and putting the kids into some hypnotic "dance around Miss Julie" trance. Usually this kind of behavior makes me weasy but with Poe it seemed quite unforced and sincere she certainly goes out of her way to be approachable and even seems a bit uncomfortable with the idea of even having fans.

ME: Chico... get off of her..... So it seems from your album credits that you really dig your parents, especially your mom.

POE: I do... I didn't speak to her for about five years though.

ME: Thats cause you were an angry kid dressing up like the plague.

POE: Well no , it was her, it was because she wouldn't speak to me.

ME: Really? Why?

POE: Because I was an angry kid dressing up like the plague.

ME: While were back on the subject of plagues, Does Lenny wear that furry cod piece around a lot?

POE: What furry cod piece?

ME: The one he's wearing in the last picture of his cd booklet.

POE: You know, I haven't even seen or heard his new album yet, but did you know that his first stage name was Romeo ?

ME: Yeah, Romeo Blue or something silly like that and here he is in his lovely 1995 F-43 model fur-lined jockstrap.

[ I show her the said photo and Chico tries to lick it, he cant tell that its a picture of a crotch or he'd probably just sniff]

POE: Gee, at least get a bikini wax Lenny..... sheesh

ME: Is it nice being on tour with a man who enjoys the pleasures of a fuzzy pouch for his wiener?

POE: I'm really happy about it, its a great tour . We get a bus instead of a van and I couldn't care less if there was even one person in the audience because the sound system is so incredible. I just like how big everything sounds. I find my self every night thinking wow ......cooooool. However it'll be really nice to get our own tour where people are actually there to see us.

{Chico attempts to lick the cat. The cat complains}

POE: {as Tyler sweats through another billion photos} Can I wear that red shirt of yours? I love wearing other peoples clothes.

ME: Sure it matches your outfit quite nicely.

(I think this is where it happened, somehow I completely lost control of the interview, for soon after being stripped of my favorite shirt Poe was raiding my closet listening to some shitty song type things that I've recorded and going through all my silly artwork. I prayed she wouldn't see my heap of dirty undies. She at least pretended not too, she then asked me to join her band and design her t-shirts and it really seemed as if everything had turned on me which was quite embarrassing and certainly unexpected. I'll spare you the details (but I've got it on tape to prove it) after about a half an hour of this her manager mentions that she needs to get back for sound check.

POE: ( while leaving) I'm really serious I want you to join my band, I have your phone number and I'm gonna call every day until you do.

ME: ( how do you respond to this? I was only planning on doing an interview for those idiots at grid.) Um....er.....um........gee....................
Chico.... stop licking Poe.

Since then, as I expected she was lying ....... she only called everyday for the first four days now its more like every other day I drew her a picture of a man wearing a diaper sitting in a stroller with a bottle in one hand and a gun in the other (for a trigger happy jack shirt.) and she actually liked it , what a stupid shirt thats gonna be. The whole world is a sucker. But Poe calls me and thats a bonus. I told you people from Provo all end up knowing each other............ Oh geez....Chico just farted again...good doggy Chico.

end of article.


UPDATE:
After this interview, she really did keep calliing me for a few months. She would call at 4am and be all romantic and cute. Truthfully, I was kinda enjoying the whole thing, it kinda seemed like, if nothing else (I wasn't all that attracted to her) we could end up being good friends.

Many things kept happening -- when she was in atlanta, she was signing autographs for a few locals when she met a dude from Utah. The first thing she says to the guy is --"Hey, I have a really good friend in Utah. Do you know Merkley? ---"Merkley??? I certainly do know him, he is my older brother. It was true, he had no idea that Poe and I knew each other either.

Another cool thing was a story a promoter guy told me -- he was at a show in some midwestern state where Poe and No Doubt were perfoming together. He said that he over heard Poe and Gwen talking about how cool I was for a good stretch of time. That definitely means that I am cool. So there.

Anyway, months later she was coming back to Utah on tour, we were still talking fairly regularly, even discussing the possibilities of me producing or co-producing her new record. She seemed serious -- but who knows. Lord knows she certainly did end up using a lot of my ideas. When she came to town, we were supposed to meet up and hang out and what not. Long story short, she was way too fucking busy --- she made no time for me, I got irritated and made it obvious and that was pretty much the end of our regular communication. She called one or two other times when she was in Salt Lake City but by that time I had moved to SF -- my number changed, her number changed and I haven't heard from her in almost 7 years. Too bad really, I do think we would have made decent friends.

Maybe I should Google her.

Nah.

okay -- so I googled her anyway --- she's apparently still living.


FUCK FRANCINE!!: Post a Comment

Frank Black Hates Me.

So in walks Frank Black, dressed in black. He looks kind of like an alienish Bobs Big Boy with his newly shaved head. I have an appointment with him, I must be cool. A lot of cool people think Frank Black is cool. Bono thinks he's cool (and he would know). Kurt Cobain thought he was cool enough to copy and I think Michael Stipe was once even heard proclaiming "THE PIXIES ARE RAD." Frank Black is just known for being cool. So I was prepared, I dressed up in some of my coolest clothes and put my hair in a bun. A bun for Frank. This would be the day I would just be cool and have a cool conversation with Mr. Cool. This would be fun.

Nope, Didn't turn out that way. About three minutes into the conversation and after failing miserably at get to know you chit chat it became apparent, Frank wasn't having fun.

ME: Frank your head looks great. Did you shave it today?"


FRANK: Yes.

He looked at me with that unmistakable look that clearly said "Oh great, another "HEAD" guy"
So I start thinking , Does Frank Black hate me? Do I smell like fish? When I shook his hand did I poke him in the tummy or wiener or something? Or is it that some people just automatically hate some people and I'm that guy to this guy. He certainly does seem annoyed.
No that cant be. I'm just being ridiculous. Maybe he just didn't sleep so well.


ME: How long you been out on tour?


FRANK: Eight years


ME: You've been sleeping a lot in one of those little cubical bus bunks traveling at high speeds, I know that irregular sleep can lead to irregular dreams, had any?


FRANK: I don't have many dreams and when I do they tend to be nightmares or really tedious affairs so that's a bad place to start your article.

Why is he wearing an "I smell fart look"? I used new Cool Mint Listerine before I came.

ME: Do you hate being interviewed Frank?


FRANK: No.


ME: Do you like it?


FRANK: Depends.


ME: On who the clown is doing it?


FRANK: Yeah.


Oh great I knew I shouldn't have worn this red , white and blue get up. I do look like a clown. I should have worn black duh....duh ....duh.

ME: Where you from


FRANK: Los Angeles


ME: Born and raised?


FRANK: Born in Boston moved to Los Angeles.


ME: But L.A. Is home?


FRANK: It's where I live.

Expression changes from "I smell fart" 'to "No shit" and then he gives the first of a long series of reeaallly frightening snort noises ...... the really wiggly guacamole mating call kind.

ME: You wrote a song called Kicked In The Taco. Tell me about that.


FRANK: You ever been kicked in the taco?


ME: If this is an offer, I'll pass. Do men have tacos?


FRANK: Taco is taco.


ME: You wrote a song about Salt Lake once also. What in the world made you do that?


FRANK: Salt Lake of course.


ME: How much time have you spent here?


FRANK: Longest I've been here was maybe a week.

I can tell he's still thinking of kicking me in the taco. He refuses to expound on any of his answers... Me and my big ideas, asking about dreams and tacos..... Then .. piercing through the silence like a dying toad, another singing oyster is evicted from the back of Frank's throat . ...ssnnoooooorrrrt.... he wont be needing dinner tonight.

ME: Tell me about a high point in your musical life.


FRANK: Jethro Tull


ME: You like the flute then.


FRANK: It is a central part of his thing.


ME: How bout a low point?


FRANK: Getting shocked is bad.


ME: How long have you played guitar?


FRANK: Since I was twelve.


ME: Did you dream of being a rock star?


FRANK: Yeah I guess.


ME: About what age did it seem like it might happen?


FRANK: I didn't keep a journal.


ME: Did you ever play air guitar?


FRANK: I do every night.


ME: Who did you want to be like?


FRANK: Larry Norman.


ME: Who is that?


FRANK: A guy in California.


ME: Uh... Can you tell me about him?


FRANK: He plays guitar.


ME: Where might we get some Larry Norman?


FRANK: Write to Larry Norman.


ME: Tell me about Johnny Polonsky.


FRANK: What about him.


ME: Well I know that you kind of discovered him and now he's on tour with you. Are you friends?


FRANK: Umm.. snorrrt acquaintances.


ME: How about Rick Rubin, Is it cool working with him?


FRANK: I've never really worked with him , he owns my label.


ME: From reading your promo material you'd think you were all buddies.


FRANK: Hmmm..

Ok OK already any hamhead can tell by now that Frank Black hates my ever livin' guts and he is obviously itching to get his Post-Pixie ass out of there. I know that for three years Frank Black refused to do interviews, perhaps with good reason. We pretend to chat a little while longer or that is, I ask every question in my little brain and he either replies "Thats private" or "that's not a good question " he even told me at one point that "my questions were really narrow" OK So maybe I should have inquired of how Larry Norman made him feel and maybe I should have asked him to expound on the spiritual nature of TACO and maybe I was dressed a little too much like Herb Tarlick BUT NOT EVERYONE CAN BE AS CLEVER, CHARMING AND HANDSOME AS TOM FUCKING SNYDER!!

ME: Last question, Ever have any troubles with fans?


FRANK: Many.


ME: Like?


FRANK: Just fans being assholes, coming in my dressing room getting in my way, you know.


ME: What do you do?


FRANK: Tell 'em to fuck off and then I throw them out.


ME: Aw Frank, its just because they love you, you know you are a legend in the eyes of many.


FRANK: Ah yeah ........ and I let'em down. It's their loss, not mine. snnnnoooooorrrrrrttt I already got their money.

HA HA HA It's not only me he hates. He hates you too.

FUCK FRANCINE!!: Post a Comment

7 Year Bitch

In 1996 it is really easy to forget what punk rock is. On Sunday March 10th I was reminded. The bar and grill was packed with stinky people, all fans of 7 Year Bitch. The four Seattle punk rock babes consisting of ,Selene Vigil (vocals) Val Agnew (drums) Elizabeth Davis (bass) and Roisin Dunne (pronounced ro-sheen) on guitar, slapped the crowd with their musical bitch slappers. No one left unhappy. Most left quite soggy.

This is a band who in the politically correct 90's have no need to go looking for causes because causes have an unfortunate way of finding them. There probably isn't an article written about this band that doesn't re-hash this quartets gloomy past. But sorry gloomsters this isn't going to be one of those for I was lucky enough to catch a glimpse of the real life bitches and there was really nothing gloomy about them. Even their manager, Minneapolis native Geoff something or other was a completely swanky cat (Managers are very well known for their complete assholishness). I met him at the show and after promptly complimenting me on my shirt he invited us to come along to breakfast with the band the following morning. The weather was perfect so we headed up Emmigration canyon to Ruths Diner where we had breakfast on the patio. A wonderful conversation of sex, lies and shoplifting ensued.

Elizabeth:the bombshell bassist with a bass cleft tattooed appropriately on her middle finger seemed the hungriest. "OK who all is ready to order ?"

Geoff: Well I'm looking for cadbury pizza.

E: Oh my gosh... (looking and reading from the menu) red flannel hash browns ... a Seattle specialty , (laughs from all). Uh yeah I'll have the Grunge burger and the Eddie Vedder hash browns please.
(every one laughs and I think I even heard someone snort...... It may have been me)

E: Pearl Jam did this free show at the park and we all went to it . Eddie threw his flannel into the crowd and there was a group of four or five young men that were battling over it as if it were there mother or something and they were so into it that they swirled around from one side of the crowd to the other so I got a picture of Val and Roisin behind them waving................. with Eddies flannel and the Battling Boys.

ME: (to Elizabeth) Did you mean it last night at the show when you said there is something crazy about Salt Lake or were you just doing the hello Cleveland thing?

E: Absolutely I meant it. I remember it from the last time we were here also, there is definitely something in the air here. I think it's the overwhelming evidence of repression. There is a college in Walla Walla Washington which is basically a community there because of a religion. Its this Baptist or Adventist college that I'm guessing is like your BYU. So this whole town is sort of dominated by this Adventists essence. Even if the people aren't Adventists they have to suffer with it. You know all the stores close up on Friday evening and are closed on Saturdays and the feeling I get here is very similar of that in that town.

ME: Well you should take a trip to Provo....... Fun is actually illegal there.

E: My dad lives in Utah. St.. George.

ME: I swear to you every band in the world has family in Utah.

VAL: Selene has hell-a-relatives in Utah.

ME: see I think that whole polygamy thing was more far reaching than once thought. So there's really nothing bad ever written about your band is there?

ALL: (as if to be insulted by the notion of public acceptance) that's not true. There are lots of bad things written about our band.

VAL: There was something just written about us in New York that said we had a "ferocious lack of musical talent."

SELENE: Details Magazine just said that the only reason why we're allowed to continue making records is because we have such a clever little name.

E: They also said that we were grunge. But the best was the review that said that Selene sang with the passion of Michael Bolton.

ME: Well that's a shitload of passion, but I'm sorry, Selene's hair is not nearly as Romantic.

ROISIN: They also said something like all of our song writing is basically Black Sabbath rip offs.

ME: Well I believe that's where Michael Bolton gets most of his grooves so........ no duh.

S: I think there was a Bon Jovi comparison once also.

ME: Damn I was going to write that. You know Roisin that makes you Richie Sambora.

R: I've got a lot of Richie in me waiting to get out, but then I' d have to date like Ally Sheedy or something.

ME: Wasn't she just a doll in that cute robot movie?

Right then I realize that I've been tapping my foot and rather enjoying that silly Christopher Cross song from Tootsie blaring over the intercom.

CRISTOPPHER CROSS: isn't it you..Its you..... Isn't it you....... Its you ........Isn't it you....... Its you ........I've been waiting for all of my life..............
I quickly check under the table and sure enough .... mine's not the only foot a tappin. My count was 5 out of 8.

ME: what kind of music did you listen to when you were little?

VAL: How little?

ME: Little little.

VAL: Shaun Cassidy and Kiss that was about the same time I guess.

ME: what about Leif Garret, did you fall for the whole Leif Garret sham? Cause he was really mackin Shaun Cassidys whole vibe.

VAL: Nah Leif did nothing for me it was Gene Simmons and Shaun Cassidy right next to each other on my wall over my bed.

ME: For the young men it was Gene and Farrah Faucett.

VAL: I used to have that poster of Gene sitting on his bike with his extend-a-tounge and his big demon boots hangin there. My mom hated that one.

ME: yeah well I even went so far as to nail some two by fours to the bottom of my addidas and painted dragon fangs on them. Only I couldn't ever really wear them because of the nails.

E: Speaking of Leif Garret ,he grew up in the same neighborhood as me. We'd see him around but he was really no big deal until he was famous, same with Rob Lowe, he had a big crush on my best friend. He'd sit there and check her out and flirt with her all the time and she was embarrassed that such a geek was the only guy with a crush on her. It was like oh gross Rob Lowe? Yuck.

ME : Oh the missed opportunities huh?

E: Actually my first encounter with the law involved Rob Lowe.

ME: some how that's not too surprising but please speak clearly into the microphone. Childhood dirt on Rob Lowe oh goody.

E: Well our neighbors were out of town and we snuck into there house. They had this big poster behind there bar that showed how to make Harvey wallbangers so we went behind the bar and made Harvey wallbangers. It was Rob Lowe his brother Chad and this girl Amy Rabishin. We played their records. We played Fleetwood Mac Rumors and the soundtrack to Saturday Night Fever drank Harvey wallbangers, used there tennis courts and ran around their house feeling all stealth you know.

R: Did he have a video camera?

E: No but he did do one kinky thing.. We were in their kitchen and there were these big tongs. He had them and was chasing Amy Rabishin (who developed really early) with the tongs as if he was going to tong her breasts.

ME: So how did the law get involved?

E: Well the neighbors came home and it was evident that people had been in the house and there was money missing so they called the police. The person that cleaned their tennis courts had seen us running around.

ME: With tongs, spatulas and other cookware no doubt.

E: Yeah so the cops came to my house and everything.

VAL: What did your mom do?

E: She had my back the whole way, I was totally lying and denying it and Amy was like lets just admit it, and I was like no way I didn't want to be accused of taking the money so we just said that we only used the tennis courts.

VAL: And they believed you?

E: the neighbors didn't but I guess the cops must have.

VAL: What about your mom?

E: I don't think so but she covered for me anyway which was pretty cool, but then I went to boarding camp.

VAL: I think we all have a klepto phase, I know I had mine. We had a Norweigian foreign exchange student that stayed with us one year and I used to sneak into his room all stealth and army style and steal money out of his wallet. Like hundreds of dollars. He of course caught on and started putting his money somewhere else. But it didn't take me long to find out that he had placed it on top of the closet. So I stole a couple more hundred dollars. Anyway, one day I reached up there to grab another hundred and there was this note that said "is this the right thing to do Val?

ALL: oh aaaahhhh busted

ME: So did that end your crime spree?

VAL: No it was on to department stores after that. We'd stick duffle bags in our socks and then go into the dressing rooms and be saying "oh that looks really cute on you " Meanwhile were huckin stuff in our duffle bags. That went on for about a year and then I stopped. I never got caught doing that though.

ME: Really? I haven't stopped yet really. In fact I think that petty thievery is more fun once you are older. People are less likely to suspect you ,and I' m not as nervous as I once was.

E: Last year I was really into the Nordstrom lingerie buy one steal two free sale, but lets change the subject to lying, Lisa our sound person has got the mother of all lies tell em Lisa

LISA: I faked sick when I was young because I absolutely hated school. I was smart enough to know the symptoms of a bad appendix, my mother took me to the doctor and had me checked but I kept up the lie all the way through .Well to make a long story shorter, The doctor ended up removing my healthy appendix and I missed a lot of school.

ME: Wow faking your way into surgery. That is the mother. But speaking of shoplifting and lying, do you guys want to hit some thrift stores before you leave? I mean not to shoplift unless of course you want too. But grid will actually pay for some stuff if you want to go.

And so off we went to some of Utah's finest thrift stores,and it didn't take long to tell the seasoned pros from the less seasoned. Selene (the least talkative of the group) immediately lost herself to snag the good shit. Roisin seemed to gravitate less to wacky shit and more to the simple vintage. Val looked at baby clothes and really fucked up stuffed animals. She found a little fuzzy yellow stuffed baby chicken with an electronic tweeter inside that made for a delightful birdie for the badmiton rackets Roisin had scored. I found some really groovy green and yellow silken seventies gym shorts that Elizabeth wrestled away from me which matched almost exactly the shorts Linda Ronstadt was wearing on the cover of an album Geoff the road manager was checking out.

But you know I can't really say how enjoyable it was to rest on the furniture at the Sugarhouse Deseret Industries directly under a sign which instructed us not to, with heavily tattooed punk rock girls with ripped clothing purple hair and what not just carrying on, swearing loudly and playing badmiton with an electronic fuzzy yellow tweety bird that sounded as if it was dying. I felt right at home, but I'll tell you, after reading what I've read about this band and listening to their honestly angst filled music, it was hard for me to believe that these were the same women, the same 7 Year Bitch that has been through a lot of really heavy shit. From losing original guitarist Stefanie Sargeant to drug related death to the abduction and murder of their close friend Mia Zapata It truly was nice to see how they've survived and even kept a good sense of humor.

I did ask a question of Selene that had been in my head since the show. I asked how it was to in a sense re-live these tragedies nightly as she sang music inspired by them.

She simply replied:
"Its not easy and its not hard its just what I do, its what I am."

I think that might be what is so appealing about this group. They are who they are and they don't make any pretense about it. That is what separates this whole new generation of wannabe punk rockers from the legitimate stuff, on the one hand you've got kids who want to play punk rock and on the other hand a band like 7 Year Bitch who end up playing punk rock not because they want too, but because they are.


FUCK FRANCINE!!: Post a Comment

An Absolutely 100% True Story About Ween

As told by Mr. YaaDeedle Vinks

Written for Grid Magazine.

My name is YaaDeedle.
Mr. Yaa-Deedle Vinks.
I report for a paper in town.
I report about people,
both the sweets and the stinks
and my pants are more up than they're down.

I drove to the City of Salt
(what a pity)
to chit with these chaps they call Ween,
They'd come from on yonder
and songs they had squandered
by hundreds of teens'd been seen.
I'd heard they'd worked magics
and goofies and doofies
some sads with some la dee da doos
and the teens who had seen'em
were cured of their oofies
and krickers and powder mugg blues.

I knocked on the bus
that was parked at The Palace
and out stepped a Lady of Voodoo.
She said "Are you Yankee Doodle?"
"Mr. YaaDeedle Vinks,
it's a pleasure and how do you do doo?"
"Well then Vaa Deedle,
is that your pink Beetle?"
"No, Mine is the Caddy down there.
"The boys will go with you
as long as you promise
not to kiss them or mess up their hair.
The bus will be leaving
to Denver however
at midnight, not one minute later,
and if you are late,
I will fill up this plate
with YaaVeedle Dinks head mash pataters."

"Its a deal Lady Voodoo."
( My word's worth a doo doo.)
then pooferdee puff she was gone.
And fluffed from the puff
came two nurfish fellers,
one roundish the other one long.
"Buenas tardes amigo,
nos vamos con tigo."
I said "What does that mean?"
"Good afternoon my friend
we'll come with you.
Our names are Gene and Dean Ween
Take us away far,
at least six jillion inches,
Lady Voodoo is wicked!" they said.
"She pokes us and pinches
and gives us both zinches
and Indian burns on our heads."

We hopped in my Caddy,
I started to stutter.
We puttered n' buttered the bird.
Then the chit chatty,
( like turds from an udder)
turned cluttered and utter absurd.
"W-W-What d-does Ween mean?"
I asked Gene and Dean Ween.
I clammed and awaited response.
"Good Sir don't be nervous,
we're really quite standard
and silly when given the chance."

Then they chanted;

"Ween is the bean
we can glean from our spleens
that can aid us in times of great pains,
Perhaps it may spook us,
for it may de-nuke us
n'scrape mucus right off of our brains.

Like a Japanese cowboy
Gene started to yodel
n'I wondered if he was all right.
He seemed kinda groggy
and a bittle bit grumpy.
The Caddy was bumpy that night.
"Chocolate and cheese.....
Oh please" he requested.
But I hadn't one curd nor one chunk.
"But wait" I remembered.
"The peaches and blender
and custard I kept in my trunk."

I curbed that big Caddy
ten feet from the corner
where State Street meets ol' Joppa Road.
Then with one hippa hoppa
der flipperdeefloppa
the Weens both turned into a toad.

So I kissed them and they turned back into Ween.

"Can I make you a
Blended-Peach-Custardous-Creamy?"
I asked as I opened the trunk.
"Yes yes, I'll have two
and Dean will have thirty
and we'll listen to country and funk."
We slurped and we guzzled,
Dean looked kinda puzzled
or frizzled or frazzled or dumb.
Then a voice said, "Excuse me,
can you help my poor pony?
He's hurtin', I think it's his lung.

"Who's that?" yelled the Deaner.
"It's that weener" said Gener.
"Mr.. Richard F. Smoker the First.
"Here have a mango,
I've no time to tango,
my ponys' left lung wants to burst."
Mr. Richard F. Smoker
was a known poopie poker
who chokered and pokered his pets.
He once choked his chicken
then was sued and was stricken
by the Salt County Legion of Vets.

"Step back! I'm a medic.
His lung's cop acetic.
Sweet Jesus but look at his spine!"
"Acute Meningitis"
This didn't delight us,
but lucky for him I had twine.

So twined to my roof
was a poor dying pony
and off to the doctor we sped.
"Wait" said Gene Ween,
I know a smart farmer.
He helped me when Fluffy was dead."
"Turn right up here,
down ol' Joppa road.
He'll help'm... he'll help our poor pony."
When we got to the farm
(no baloney) the pony
was bony n' colder than stony.
We lifted the pony
all crumpled and rumpled
to a dumple tree stump in the barn.
We laid him out flat
and the farmer took samples
from balloonish type deals on his arms.
The farmer said "Brethren,
his chances 'r slender,
fer yer blender I'll help'im next week.
Which means you must leave him."
We had to believe him.
(Our prospects were looking so bleak.)

I looked at my watch.
It was fifteen to midnight.
The bus would be leaving 'fore long.
Ween had to be
out in Denver on Thursday
or Denver would not hear Ween's song.
What's worse is that Voodoo
was known for her noodle
spoodling up gasses and flames.
If they didn't get back
by midnight exactly,
someone was bound to be maimed.

"What should we do?"
Dean said to Gene Ween.
"We can't leave this pony aloney"
"Don't wanna leave you
on the farm oh dear pony.
Can't leave this sick pony named Tony.
Cancel the tour
and send home the drummer
Lady Voodoo can tissle her tuss.
But Tony the pony
will not be aloney,
though he's got....a bum spine.....he's got us."

"Get Vaseline
and get him all greasy
find pumpkins and melons and roses."
"The roses are free here."
said the fine farmer,
"But for melons you'll pay through your noses."
"Cost is no matter
for Tony is battered
and a battered up pony is awful.
If we must sell our bus
well then that's fine with us.
We'll even do what is unlawful."

The melons were grinded,
the pumpkins all blendered,
the roses were turned into juice.
The pasty concoction
souped all vaseliny
and directly was pumped up his goose.

And for hours Ween did
what Ween didders do
for countless afflicteds and sicks,
doing weenderful tricks
singin' weenderful licks
like Freedom Of 76.
"Pony dear pony
for Chachi for Joanie
for freedom of body and mind.
Rise and be well.
We'll walk down to Woolworths
for bacon steaks til we go blind."

Then... a gasp and a squeal
and a squirm and a wiggle.
All eyes were focused on Tony,
But then there was nothing,
not one single jiggle.
We had witnessed the death of that pony.

The Ween boys were shattered
Their Ween hearts were tattered
and squashed up like poor little bugs.
They hugged that poor pony
so battered and bony
till teardrops were squozed from their mugs.
The teardrops were flowing.
Gene's butt crack was showing.
They cried till their eyelids would crack,
sniffing and sobbing
and blubberly blobbing yelling
"Tony oh Tony come back!"

"Its no use fellas."
said the farmer so softly,
that hardly a person could hear,
"I think we should have
three minutes of silence
for Tony the pony so dear."
We all bowed our heads
and took off our hats
and listened to crickets and stars.
I believe we heard moonbeams
and stardust and Martians
whistling sweet music on mars.

Then like a drifter in the dark came these four words;
"My--- name ------ is --------- Eddie"

"Who said that? Who muttered?
Who uttered that sentence?
I know it was none of us five.
It must be the pony!
Oh cheese macaroni!
HE'S ALIVE HE'S ALIVE HE'S ALIVE!!"

Then after ten minutes
of barfing and pooping
and snotting big snots on the driveway,
Eddie was better.
Yes, better than ever.
He survived in the bestest survive way.
"How did you do that
Sir Eddie the pony?"
"Ten minutes ago you were croaked.
You worried us silly.
We thought you were Tony,
a pony whose spine had been broked.

"The reason I croakered,
was that mean Richard Smokered
always told me to piss up a rope.
Unable to cope,
I floped like a dope.
But now with you all, I'll have hope.
The problem was never
my spine nor my lung,
'twas really a much greater pain.
With all the mean jokes
that Smoker had jokered
thick mucus had smothered my brain.

'Twas that teardrop that fell
straight into my heart
and dribbled down into my spleen,
the tear was that Ween
that weenderful bean
that beams as love's gasoline.
The gasoline bubbled
and boiled all my troubles,
scraped mucus right out of my head.
'Twas your weenderful Ween
and my weenderful spleen
that redeemed me back from the dead."

Joy overcame us.
Nobody could blame us.
Our tummies were tickled with love.
For forty two minutes
we danced and we jickled,
Then a crash came from straight up above.

BOOM POW KERRPLAPPLE
The barn started quaking
and shaking and breaking to bits.
Then in came the Voodoo
with fifty two screws loose
her face now exploding with zits.
"I warned you!" she screeched.
"Back at midnight or else!
And now the or else time has come!"
Her noodle exploodled
green flames and dead poodles.
She coughed and shot sparks from her bum.
"Your singing careers
are over. she cackled.
And you Deedle man, you are dead."
She sizzled and crackled
but then she exploded,
seems her tantrum had killed her instead.

"Finally we're free
of that Lady of Voodoo,
But Denver awaits us." said Dean.
But with no bus and no band
we're screwed up the yoo hoo
and besides, I'm about out of steam."
"You know, I'm a drummer."
said the smart farmer.
"I play a mean tuba." said Rich.
I said, "Take my blender,
it kinda makes music.
Use the speed knob to fiddle the pitch."
"Well thats fine and dandy.
But how do we get there?
We spent all our money on melons
"I've got the answer.
I'm an airplane. said Eddie.
I was taught by a mallard named Ellen."

He laid out and long
and stretched a few meters.
His ears both turned into propellers.
He sprouted some wings
and some tiny round windows
and said, "Climb on aboard nurfy fellers."
They climbed through the back,
yeah, the back of the pony.
The rear door if you know what I mean.
And I cant put my finger
on what I was thinking,
but I know it was 5:17.
His ears started twirling.
His tail started whirling.
Then smoke billowed out of his butt.
He rumbled and roared.
(My head was now swirling.)
Had I not seen it, I'd think me a nut.

Then they were off, Four messy haired men
in a flying pony.

So Eddie the pony,
Richard F. Smoker,
the farmer, the blender and Ween,
left me in the City
of Salt (what a pity)
when they flew to the big Denver scene.
And some people say,
"Gee that's a neat story,
but YaaDeedle Vinks what does it mean?
Don't poop where you eat ,
Don't listen to Voodoo,
and never get rid of your spleen.

the end

FUCK FRANCINE!!:
Blogger fugusashi is a gaywad.

My dad used to say that:

"Don't get your meat where you get your potatoes."

Copacetic is a fake word.

Are you on acid?

 

Blogger fugusashi is a gaywad.

I mean, I know it's a real word in the dictionary, but it's 'fakey'.

eh. forget. i was on acid last night myself.

nevermind.

 

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