Monday, June 30, 2008


This is the bearded one, Adam. I rarely write here and I don't know what to say.
The other guys keep bugging me to post something, but I just don't know what to talk about. So this is my post. Oh, I guess I could say the new MY Morning Jacket rules, except for that "Highly Suspicious" song. That song haunts my dreams like a wizard haunts the deciduous forest. Later.
Adam aka Cheddar go Bang Bang

Tuesday, June 24, 2008


I apologize, and realize I've been leaving you and your ipod with out a musical compass over the past few weeks. Things have been busy on the farm. But, without further wait. . .

1. "Dionne Warwick's Golden Hits (Part One)" by Dionne Warwick - When most folks my age think of Ms. Warwick, they think "psychic friends hotline". And what a damn shame that is. But I suppose it's her own fault. Either way, it's not completely her that is to be cherished when listening to this collection. The brunt of the praise should be bestowed upon good old Burt Bacharach and the wonderful Hal David, who not only wrote these chillingly beautiful songs but produced and arranged them as well. These tracks all share a similarly majestic production value that, for 1962, '63, and '64, should not be scoffed at. If you can listen to the sax solo in "Anyone who ever had a Heart" or the coda for that matter without the hair raising on your arms, then you probably lack that human function all together and should go to the doctor. I'm sure any collection of Dionne's early hits will do. I'm not even sure if they put this particular collection on CD, but do yourself a favor and make sure that you get "Walk on By," "I Smiled Yesterday," "Anyone who ever had a Heart," and the original version of "Always Something there to Remind Me" into your life. She's the soul singer you didn't know you were supposed to love.

2. "Coney Island Baby" by Lou Reed - This is by far my favorite Lou Reed album. Solo Lou that is. To be honest I don't really even like 75% of his other stuff. Solo stuff that is. I mean, this is a pretty common opinion though. It's not as if I'm saying I don't like Dylan's voice. I think most of Lou Reed's albums are shit. Sue me. Anyway, this album is about as close as he ever got to recapturing the magic that the Velvets had. The songs are simple and grooving. The production is tight and encompasses the best of what the seventies sounded like in an engineer's both. And the musicianship is flawless and perfectly tasteful--not the typical Lou bullshit.
Bob Kulick's licks are smokin' and all over the thing. He later went on to overdub the guitar that Paul Stanley pretended to play on a few KISS albums. His bluesy bite gives the whole album kind of a southern rock vibe that works perfectly with Lou's New-York-cool tunes. Just listen to "A Gift" and you'll catch what I'm saying. It's cool as the other side of the pillow, and mildly hilarious. The title track is probably one of the best songs Lou's written since "Oh Sweet Nothin". This album has somehow slipped through the cracks. But if you love the Velvet Underground but think that Lou Reed solo albums are predominantly hoarse shit, then give this a spin. (Sorry Lou, it's not like you don't know your a dick though.)

Thursday, June 19, 2008


Make sure you check out the intro below, you'll get a better understanding of where we are coming from...


Bovice: The name is Bovice

Orpheous: Well I'm Orpheous, a.k.a Gak Daddy. Orpheous is my birth given name.


Bovice: None of yer bizness

Orpheous: 47 years/8 months/3 days/16 minutes and not one second sober.

What do you do for a living?

Bovice: I'm on disability from the government. Broke my back. I'd rather not talk about it.

Orpheous: I work at a recycling plant. I collect the cans all day and they recycle them. Usually get a 5 spot for each Ruffie's bag I fill up.

So when did megameth start?

Bovice: Yer gonna have to ask Shithead. Ha ha! That's my nickname for Orpheous. I can't remember shit

Orpheous: Haha, crazy fucker, we were at a Rusted Root concert at the Point, probably around 1997, and we were totally inspired...not by them, but by this dude who was catching fireflies during their set. We went up to him, he was blown out of his mind, he told us his name was OshKosh B’gosh, but also went by Father Time. We went and got a few fresh squeezed lemonades, a corndog, smoked a massive amount of meth (this was our first time), stole his wallet and came back home and thought it would be hilarious to translate our evening into a song.

How come you guys have never played a show?

Bovice: None of us much like crowds. Myself, I get nervous as all shit when I'm in a room with more than 5 people in it. I get the shakes.

Orpheous: HA! You always get da shakes! And it ain’t got nuthin to do with crowded roomz! But in answer to your question, the thought crossed our mind, but after 6 some years of doing meth, like Bovice said, we developed a phobia of crowds. And really, there just isn’t enough Meth in the world to make that go away.

So what kind of music are you into?

Bovice: Pantera! That's what I'm squawkin about. Dimebag Darrell R.I.P. If I ever get my hands on that shithead that capped him! Boy, you don't wanna be there!

Orpheous: I can dig me some Pantera, but best band ever, hands down, Molly Hatchet. Lately ive been listening to some Deep Purple, George Clinton, and the Adam Sandler Comedy CD with that fucking goat. You remember that goat? “Yo goat, you got some kinda knot on your head” then the goat says, “What? Yeah, you better KNOT mention that again you fucking cocksucker”. Priceless.

Whatever happened that night all the police and fire department came to your apartment above ours?

Bovice: I don't remember much but I'd guess it had something to do with our lab. Shit, it catches fire seems like every other day now. Good things none of us got any damn kids running around!

Orpheous: Yeah I mean, it was just some big misunderstanding. We were recording Meth Train, and you know our old landlord reddy? That crazy fuck, he called he police because of the noise. The fire department was there because BoHam measured the batch of meth wrong, and POOF! Luckily we were all outside getting arrested when that went down! As the cop car pooled away, BoHam is running after the cop car screaming “IM SORRY! IM SORRY I BLEW UP OUR HOUSE!” I think he had a beaker in one hand and a pack of Chesterfields in the other. It was hard to see. Crazy dude.

What were the circumstances with you guys getting evicted?

Bovice: Again, it all comes back to our meth lab. (this ain't gonna be read by no police is it?) uh I mean no comment

Orpheous: Also because Reddy tried joining the band, we sent his ass back across the courtyard. 2 weeks later we’re at the Magistrate.

Favorite movie?

Bovice: Chariots of Fire

Orpheous: Grizzley man! SHIT!

Favorite book?

Bovice: Anything by Steve King. I love that fucker!! Spooky shit.

Orpheous: Hatchet, that dude is the dude!

Have you ever seen the takeover uk live?

Bovice: Who? Nah man I ain't into that shit

Orpheous: Nah Vice, remember that one time we went to that shanty Brillo Box and tried getting in telling them we were on the guest list, but they weren’t havin it? So we offered them some meth (thinking were in Lawrenceville, who DOESN’T do hard drugs there?) but then they called the cops. We got to hear about 2 and a half songs from outside the bar before the cops rolled up with the ATF. What a fucked up night that was…

Why do you still wear Jenco Jeans? Aren't they a little out of style?

Bovice: Well I only had one pair of pants for a long time. I ain't wearing 'em anymore. I got me some Hanes Her way sweatpants. Stole 'em from my grandma. Ha Ha! God rest her soul

Orpheous: I wear em’ cuz they got them huge pockets man. Do your Levi’s got pockets than can hold methamphetamine cookbooks?

What got you into music in the first place?

Bovice: Who said I was into music? I'm into Megameth man! Shit, it's a way of life

Orpheous: Exactly, its more like gang type shit. But for me? I realized that If I was really really fucking high, that music just sent that high fucking 10 times farther…It’s all about trying to reach that “Ultimate High.”

Where do you see yourself in five years?

Bovice: Shit that's an easy one. Dead or in jail! Shit! Ha ha!

Orpheous: Yeah, Hopefully Dead. I don’t think my body can take much more of this. With AIDS and just about every other STD in the book, my recreational drug use should hopefully just put an end to my life…

What's the goal for Mega meth?

Bovice: Just one day at a time cuz. Ya know, I mean, shit, I'm just trying to cook up this new batch of shit before it explodes again. My body can't take no more burn marks. Charred flesh don't feel so hot! Get it, hot! Shit!

Orpheous: Oh hell no they don't, I got burns in places you wouldn't believe! But our goal...hmm...just getting our name out there on the Internet. We tried posting comments to Queens of the Stone Age, but they never replied. All we want is to tour with them. Not really, they blow, but I’m sure they got some good drugs we can steal off them.

Have you ever tried to quit using drugs and alcohol?

Bovice: Ha ha ha! Shit no!

Orpheous: Haha, The only time I really ever put any thought into that, is when I’ve been carted off to jail. But the thought was “How the hell am I gonna quit using drugs and alcohol?”

How many times have you been to jail?

Bovice: Now that's none of yer goddamn bizness Mark or Mac or whatever the fuck yer name is. Shithead

Orpheous: Me? 27 times for anything ranging to possession, simple assault and rape. But I’m currently on house arrest. One time we let our dog eat my bracelet we threw him on an ongoing train. The 5.0 came and said that I was supposedly in Youngstown Ohio. I ended up getting taken to the State Pen and had to serve 6 months for that. Worth it!

If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?

Bovice: Candyland, but only instead of candy, the trees were made of crack or glue or some other shit. Whatever man that's a dumb fuckin' question, shithead

Orpheous: Elba, that place they carted Napolean off to. Or Intercourse, PA. Crazy Amish broads running amuck.

Let's say you win the powerball for 100 million bucks, what would you do with the money?

Bovice: Man, what the fuck do you think I'd do with it. Feed the hungry...only not food, but crank or dust!

Orpheous: Right on! I’d like to start a slew of burlesque houses and bunny ranches. Plus get a straight connection with the Meth lords themselves.

What do you think of our president, George W.?

Bovice: I think he's an alright guy. He just gets a bum rap. I heard somewhere he used to blow tons of rails and slam like a fifth of jack a day. Sounds like an ok guy.

Orpheous: I heard that too!! I mean people gotta stop givin him so much shit. All he wants to do is protect our god damn country and serve God. I used to think god was bullshit, but I’m a born-again.

What's the solution to the war in Iraq?

Bovice and Orpheous: KILL EM’ ALL!

Boxers or briefs?

Bovice: I'm a commando man. Shit, that shit costs money.

Orpheous: I tend to rock the Man-kini

And lastly, what did you do with Ian's DVD collection we know you guys

Bovice: You never told us where you guys moved to. I'd like to come see your new place, me and orpheous. Shit man.

Orpheous: But we did take that shit to the Record Exchange!! Sorry Ian!


Where to begin?
I used to share an apartment in Pittsburgh with my buddie/TUK roadie Ian. We lived in a decent neighborhood, in a not-so-decent apartment building. Despite constant threats of eviction from our absent minded landlord who would forget that we paid him the rent, it was a nice time in my life.
Our first night in the apartment. Ian and I are sitting on the couch surveying our new domain when this god awful noise starts blaring from above us. Like the cup of water in Jurassic Park, only the glass of water actually shook itself off the table and smashed on the floor.
It sounded like a band playing, but it was hard to make out anything. We swore we heard the words "crackpipe" being screamed over and over again. This was our first introduction to "MegaMeth".
After 2 more nights of this noise, Ian and I went upstairs and knocked on the door. We couldn't take it anymore. We're easygoing guys, but noone could put up with this racket. I don't know how to describe the man that opened the door in any other way than "crazy looking". It was Megameths' guitarist, BoVice. One word. He shared the apartment with his bandmates, Orpheous, and BoHam, who we suspect was Bovice's brother. A pungent stench of chemicals and urine hit us as soon as the door opened. Almost choking from the smell, we kindly asked them if they could not play after 11. They were surprisingly nice about it and said sure. And that was our first encounter with the boys/men of MegaMeth.
Over the next year we became "buddies" of some sort with the guys, whose ages we could never guess. They were definitely scary, but also lots of fun and endlessly entertaining. We encouraged them to start playing shows, but they just didn't want to. They were happy just to beat on their instruments in their apartment and record songs and put them on the internet. Concerning their instruments, MegaMeth are very unique. They're, as Orpheous likes to say, a "power 3-piece" . Orpheous, the tallest of the 3 and certainly one of the hairiest men I've ever met, is the singer. Bovice plays solely wah-wah guitar. BoHam plays a crappy electronic drum kit, you know, the kind that's just pads. They all scream along on the chorus. Which brings me to their music.
For 3 guys that do more drugs than anyone I've ever met or seen in a movie, they actually write good songs. They do the whole verse/chorus/verse structure. Their choruses are even catchy. I'm no big fan of metal, but I can't help but like Megameth. So what's stopping them from being on the next Ozzfest? Their lyrics.
All their songs are about smoking meth, smoking crack, robbing people, and all kinds of dubious/nefarious and downright immoral/illegal behavior. That, couopled with their scary image, might scare most people off. It doesn't matter though. They're not interested in becoming rockstars. They just like playing together.
We've since moved out of the apartment and I hardly ever see the guys, but I did run into 2 of them recently and luckily I convinced them to do an interview with me. Boham wasn't there. Apparently he was arrested shortly after we moved out and is still in jail as of today. They wouldn't say what for, and really, it could be a myriad of things. I'm posting the interview as soon as he sends it back to me. Believe it or not, MegaMeth are surprisingly web savvy. So get ready world. I give you...MEGAMETH!
check out their music here:


Tuesday, June 17, 2008


I just read a short little book called "The Manual: How to have a Number One the Easy Way". Published in 1988, it's a cheeky instruction book on how to write, record, manufacture, distribute and promote your very own pop single and how to get it to #1 in the official Gallup Charts in the UK. It's very specific to the UK, and not the UK of 2008. Alot of it is dated, but the idea is wonderful. You can read it here: The Manual It was written by 2 guys, Bill Drummond and Jimmy Cauty, better known as the KLF. They have also have gone by several other names: The Justified Ancients of Mu Mu, The JAMs, The Timelords. As the Timelords the duo released a novelty single, "Doctorin' the Tardis", a mash-up of the Doctor Who theme music and Gary Glitter's "Rock and Roll (Part Two) and some Sweet song. You can hear a sample of it on their wikipedia page:
They were savaged in the press for making a dreadful single, which they acknowledged as true, a flat out attempt to have a number one aiming for the lowest common denominator. It worked and they made quite a bit of money. Oh, and they put it out themselves on their own label. My favorite part of the whole single idea, they put a Ford sedan on the cover of the single. The whole gag was that this Ford wrote the song. They had a friend pretend to be the Ford in phone interviews. When they were scheduled to play Top of the Pops, they were just going to have the Ford on the stage and nothing else while their song played! I personally think that's brilliant. When the BBC said no, they hired sexy backup dancers to strut around the Ford. Genius!
Another great gag they pulled was their exit of the music biz. They played the 1992 BRIT Awards show with the metal act, EXTREME NOISE TERROR. In what was described as a "violently antagonistic performance" in front of "a stunned music-business audience", the performance consisted of "a limping, kilted, cigar-chomping Drummond firing blanks from an automatic weapon over the heads of the crowd". At the conclusion, a voice announced over the PA system that "The KLF have now left the music business". To top the night off, the band dumped a dead sheep with the message "I died for ewe—bon appetit" tied around its waist at the entrance to one of the post-ceremony parties. When I found out about this recently I kept thinking, why oh why have I never heard about this or these guys. I'm sure those of you over in the UK and of a certain age remember this, but for us Yankees, these guys are totally obscure. Maybe they were just before my time, but I've never heard anyone I know mention them. I read an interview with Bill Drummond where he said he was planning on cutting off his hand on stage that night, and throwing it into the audience. His bandmate convinced him otherwise, and they killed the sheep instead. Yowza!
While certainly all of these stunts are incredible and incredibly entertaining, it was their final gag that really leaves one scrathcing his or her head.
1994. KLF has earned quite a nice sum of money from their #1 hit and other succesfully charting songs. Having all this money and having disbanded you'd think these guys would relax and enjoy the finer things in life, having really pulled off the great rock and roll swindle? (Malcom McLaren pales in comparison. Do you think Steve Cook was set after the Pistols broke up? Isn't he a DJ in LA now?) Well obviously, no. So what do they do? They withdraw a million pounds sterling (about 3 million US dollars), go to some obscure island off the Scottish coast and burn all of it. It takes a little over an hour. Their buddy films it. These fuckers burned a million pounds! Later, Drummond said he regretted it. Ya think? What was the point? Art? Either way, they've got my attention. So we salute you KLF. Crazy motherfuckers.
They just don't make 'em like they used to.

Here is a ridiculous video of them performing on some wacky show. I don't know about you, but I find this endlessly amusing and ridiculous. I pine for the simpler times in pop music.

This is them on the Top of the Pops with the world's most famous pedophile as a very special guest. I know it's 2 videos of the same song, but they're both so wonderful in the best possible way. Enjoy

And finally, KLF with Extreme Noise Terror at the 1992 Brit Awards, with their infamous shooting a machine gun at the audience.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008


I don't know why it came to mind, but I just remembered something that happened to me when I was a wee young boy, probably 10 or 11. My brothers and I used to get our hair cut at this real old time barber shop in Uptown Pittsburgh. It was like out of a 1950's movie, the barber sign and all. It was called "Harry's", that being the name of the barber who owned it. A family tradition of some sort, my grandfather got his hair cut there, so did my dad (what hair he still had). Naturally, my 2 brothers and I would go there once every couple months to get a trim. I don't remember ever seeing a woman at Harry's. It was like a VFW or Elks lodge: old time barber chairs, guys getting shaved with a straight razor, and always 3 or 4 old men in the back playing pinochle. After Harry finished, you had to grab a broom and sweep up your own hair and put it in the dustbin. I never really liked the haircuts I got there, but it didn't bother me until high school. Which brings me to my memory.
I was getting my hair cut before basketball practice, and I was running late. My mom was supposed to pick us up an hour after she dropped the 3 of us off. I sat in the barber chair as Harry trimmed my already short hair. My kid brother Greg, who could never sit still, was staring out the window, it being a bright, sunny day. His eyes grew wide and he called our attention to outside the shop. Harry put down the scissors and went to the big, dirt streaked window.
Outside, there was group of 3 guys, all worked up and yelling at a long-haired guy, that in hindsight kinda looked like Andrew W.K. Long, stringy hair and acid washed jeans, you'd think this guy had ate their children, the way the gang of 3 was screaming at him. We opened the door to hear what was going on. Even some of the old guys playing pinochle set down their cards and ambled to the door. What came next was unexpected. After yelling at each other for 5 minutes or so, Andrew W.K guy started walking away towards the barber shop. One of the gang of 3 wasn't having it. Handily, he picked up a brick and ran up behind the unsuspected long hair, smashed it over his head. Andrew W.K. instantly crumpled to the sidewalk.Blood streamed down his greasy hair. The barbershop went silent. The gang of 3 fled. Harry grabbed the rotary phone and called 911. We wanted to go outside and see if he was alive, but Harry told us to stay inside. He finished the last bit of my haircut, and my mom arrived right before the cops did. Harry told us to get out of there. I'd never make practice if we didn't leave before the cops arrived. They'd want a statement, he said.
On the ride to practice my brothers and I excitedly told my mom about what we had witnessed. A little horrified, I'm not sure she believed us. That night she let us stay up to watch the 11 o'clock news. There was nothing about the attack.
My older brother Kevin, always the cynic, swore the guy had to be dead. There was no way he could survive a brick to his head, he proclaimed. Greg and I were sure we'd seem him twitching though as we were getting in the car. There was nothing about it in the news. After a day or two we forgot about it and moved on to talking about baseball cards and action movies.
I stopped getting my hair cut at Harry's after I moved away to college. A freak of nature, Harry's was totally destroyed last summer by a tornado. His building was the only one touched by the tornado. A tornado in Pittsburgh. Yeah, me too.
I like to think the guy survived, the knock to the head giving him the idea to write such gems as "Party Hard" and "Party till ya Puke". Wikipedia doesn't mention Andrew W.K. ever living in Pittsburgh and I don't think their ages match up. Maybe he was his older bro.
I swear I haven't thought about it in 10 years at least, but for some reason I remembered it just now. I was going to write about a movie I saw last night, "Spanking the Monkey", but my memory got in the way. What's the point? Beats me.

Saturday, June 7, 2008

Heat Wave

It has been really hot lately. Disgustingly hot. The type of hot where as soon as you walk outside, you immediately wanna take a shower. There are rumors of temperatures rising near 100 degrees. Keep in mind, I live in Pittsburgh, and it's early June. Global warming anyone? When you're freezing in January, all that keeps you going is the thought of those sunny, summer days... well, now that they're here, they can go fuck themselves.

On a side note, Adam and I's beloved Pittsburgh Penguins(Mark thinks hockey is for Canadians) lost in the Stanley Cup Finals. It started as a blow out, with Detroit going up 2 games to 0, but the Pens fought their way back to make the series 3-2; one of the wins included a 5 hour long, triple over time game(which ruled. They were one shot, and one second away from tying the series, and forcing a game 7... but it just wasn't in the cards for us. Nevertheless, I am proud of them. I didnt even think they were gonna get that far anyways. Looking forward to next season.

Alright, people. It's time for me to go pool hoppin'.