Catherine #2

Knowing that the girl is "the one that got away" from pretty much the moment you meet them isn't the healthiest start nor the healthiest mindset, the illusion of love that you feed yourself is the best you'll get for the most - moments of real love are there, I fight for them with her, endure indignities, insults and abuse for her pretty little smile. Drugs help things make sense but at the end of the day, drugs are like oxygen, everyone lives their own particular way and opiates happen to be the lubricant that makes my days go by.

I fuck her to stake my claim on her, the more I love her, the more she slips from my grip, over time it gets more violent, spiteful - I want to scream "Why can't you just be MINE?!" I want to grab her by the throat, she's taken every moral I held dearly and chewed it up and spat it out, she was making me into the guys that made her into the damaged, untangled knot of whatever the fuck she is.

We never talked about protection and although the last thing I needed was to create a child, but it would be another way of possessing her, I saw it as a kind of anchor, I secretly longed for it but it never seemed realistic. we never talked about it and I never asked, I came in her often and the only time she complained was when I ejaculated into her backside, she complained of discomfort - she left a skinny little exclamation mark of semen on a dark cushion she sat on afterwards. I'm not going to make an assumption as to whether she would have been a good mother or not, she was not mentally well that was for sure but whether a persona of 'mother' would have brought some sunshine and structure to her life? I couldn't say, I didn't want a child for any of the right reasons and as an addict, I offered nothing that would be of use, I'd be a worthless father but if it meant I kept her, I was willing to.

I liked to get a into a good position to view when she carve herself up, firstly it taken so long to earn her trust for her to display her most intimate wounds, now to be able to watch her work some brand new razor blades over her arms and legs was a treat, watching her cut was a real art. The first few times I was allowed to watch I suddenly found myself ridiculously tense, as if I were in a dentists chair and had noticed my knuckles were white. when she was drunk she'd hack at herself with little to no care and I'd have to be on my toes to make sure that arteries or her neck, nipples or anything of beauty would not be carelessly sliced. Sometimes she worked in lines, Left to Right slicing deeply and repeatedly long gashes along her frail, skinny arms - like a machinist, working to an almost minute degree of accuracy, as long as I was watching I felt there was an element of control, sometimes I wanted her to lose control.

I was dreading her birthday, In my head it was a case of damage management, I knew I had enough pills to fucking annihilate myself if the need arose, it would be nice.. no wonderful just to have her ENJOY at least some of the day. I had been buying her gifts for months prior and hiding them, occasionally giving her something but I had amassed little more than a santa sack of Books, Films, Music and a Sizeable amount of cash so she could buy Lingerie, I would say 'clothes money', it'd make me sound like less of a douche but in the end that's what she loved spending cash on, Bra's, Knickers and shit - frankly I couldn't give a fuck, I thought she was beautiful no matter what, scars, knife at my throat...whatever, she was beautiful, delicate, morally alien. Gifts were given out over the course of the day, even I was surprised at how much stuff I had accumulated - she kissed me, lots. A few black clouds appeared over her head during the day and she actually apologised for snapping at me when they struck all of which lulled me into the false sense of security I'd been working on for months.

the sex was furious and frantic, birthday joy had given way to spitting in each others faces as we slap-fucked angrily away, I grabbed her throat and tried to summon enough spit to put her in her place, I spat as little as I could gather into her mouth and screamed 'FUCK YOU!" into her face, 'fuck you' as I bit into her shoulder, coming between her legs. I had barely regained composure before going down on her, if all had gone my way I'd have licking her pussy all day but with her.. nothing goes my way and the fact I had planned this in any degree was stupid even to a stupid asshole like me. I stuck my face in our joint bodily fluid mess and got going, it was still fragrant and ultimately hugely pleasant, she grabbed my hair and guided me although when she came I had to hold my ground so to speak in order to make her scream, she wasn't often very vocal but I was hitting the right spot again and again - and fuck screaming mercy, this was as close to heaven as I was getting. Later she returned the favour, rarely would she 'dirty herself' giving me head but when she did, it wasn't something I'd forget easily. I closed my eyes to make it last and shot an extraordinarily huge amount of semen into her throat, she both coughed and laughed it down as I regained composure, I was I terrified I had choked her. We kiss again, its great, as she breathes out I can smell my come, I crunch up four green pills and wash them down with water, she swigs some tea and tells me she loves me - perfect.

In my head I term it 'The Snap' when she flits from order to chaos, one of the moments it happens is when I make the mistake of feeling in any way content and so as the inevitable rush of joy from my Oxycontin hit me so too did the realisation that a day engineered for her pleasure had to end badly, it had to. All it took was for me to nod off whilst taking a shit, not long too before I saw her paler than usual face on my pillow, she gave a faint smile to me and I told her that no matter what she'd done, I wasn't taking her to the hospital. When I pulled the covers back she had truly butchered herself, it even shocked ME, some of the larger gashes on her arms seemed to hang open of their own volition, her thighs were lacerated and her knickers drenched with blood where her hands had been. I swept her up in my arms as I lay with her "I FUCKING love you!", I sobbed uncontrollably, "More than anything.." I knew as well as she did that she had so little control over herself that this would have happened sooner or later anyway but today, on this day I'd spent so much time working towards.. it genuinely broke my heart. I dressed the worst of her wounds, I was happy when she got a little more colour in her cheeks.

It'd be moronic to have held her mental illness against her, I had to accept it, I SHOULD have accepted it by now but I was angry, I ground my way through more Oxycontin pills than was really sensible and she realised she wasn't going to get much life from me today. One of my least favourite feelings is coming up on opiates whilst hearing something upsetting or being presented with a shocking piece of news, I was once dumped over the phone as I was on a come up, its disorientating, nauseating and frankly annoying. Most of my life was that exact feeling now, she had me in an almost constant state of shock and I remained fucked up in order to stay in control. I earned her trust where others couldn't (or simply WOULDN'T, I had to jump through a lot of hoops to be where I am) I felt a duty to her, to the best of my ability I would at least try to protect her from herself. Right now though, I'm going to take her over the kitchen table, I held her by the scruff of the neck and did just that, not a word was uttered between us the whole time, my anger was more than clear with how rough I was, pulling her hair and holding her skinny little shoulders as I pounded. I felt like an asshole when I had finished but I was learning to use sex (either for better or worse) as an outlet for the anger that she made well up in me.

An hour later she was nose-deep in a text book, why her fearsome intelligence was wasted on me was a mystery, I sometimes thought I might be a cruel psychology experiment, so young, so much younger than me and so much MORE intelligent, I loved it - she was incredible, what's more is that she never seemed to think I was any less clever, jeez for all the abuse that went back and forth, she would never let me feel like I was behind anyone, If I said anything that made me seem like I was making fun of myself, she'd be deeply offended. that in itself, was pretty cool. The fact that she knew and understood her own mental illness was the thing that never ceased to fascinate and horrify me, she was watching her own downfall with more understanding than she really should have, she knew the big picture.

Introduction/Catherine #1

Intro: At the start of the year I started writing something that I termed 'body-horror erotica', that stuff is yet to be shown to anyone as I am not hugely confident about it and frankly It isn't easy reading for the average person and its extremely sexually violent (as indeed are a lot of the things I've written), although I don't care about things getting taken the wrong way - I don't have the energy to defend myself should I feel the need, plus I'm not very confident with ANY of my writing.

What came from these writings were more personal things that turned into a real outlet for me, the writing was abandoned when I didn't know what to do with it and became overly concerned with the nonsense of worrying about people thinking worse of me... something I've NEVER worried about before. Recently I decided to buy a nice moleskine notebook and re-write the best of the personal stuff and see what I can do with it, what I've posted below is a tiny part of a re-written, re-worked project, mistakes and all. for the time being at least, the moleskine project is under the blanket name 'Catherine'

let me know what you think.

Heroin is supposed to be a drug for very emotional people, Oxycontin a more measured dose makes more sense in that respect, it allows me to feel comfortable in how absorbed in her horrors I want to be, in numbness she makes sense to me, In this sickness I can lie to myself that this is a 'Relationship'. She is beautiful, Anaemic, Vodka piss drunk, So much younger than me, so furiously, Frighteningly intelligent. Her big black eyes make no mistake that when you've been put in your place, you've been put in your FUCKING place, that she knows you more than you do. When I was young I thought that 'the eyes are the mirror to the soul', It would be too frightening to put into play here, 'Borderline' she said casually, I chewed more green pills and it didn't seem to matter any. Fuck everything else, my bulimic english rose, you can bleed into my sheets forever.

Small intense bursts of affection, almost as shocking as the violence between us keeps the drama alive, like a snake I feed, I despise it - as I adore my medicine, she feeds on the flux, it keeps her blood flowing. I take notes on when its her time of the month, when volatility becomes beyond her control, I can't walk away even then, I'd like to but something so intense could burn out before my eyes and I need her. She kisses the bruise on my throat, temporarily ashamed and shocked at what she'd done, its forgotten to her as soon as she turns her head. I could and have been violent with her, she tells me its 'comforting' when I am, righteousness lets me believe I'm nothing like the men that made her this way even with my body weight pushing her head into the mattress, pounding between her buttocks - no. The pills play enough in my sex life that if I wasn't on them maybe I'd admit that I was so awful and 'force' my way with her? shallow breathing or not - maybe they keep me in check.

I was grateful for the effect vodka had on her, Methamphetamines too (although neither were my drug of choice nor ever have been). She could have lorded her intelligence over me, never once did she - an understanding of the human condition that was so multi faceted, so deep and ingrained in her that she could reduce people to tears with what might seem as casual assumption about them, my friends didn't like her - I knew why, fuck them. The Vodka relaxed her first, what would seem like an unlikely exclamation from her for anyone that saw her as studious and intense was as frequent as her vodka binges, "I'm Horny" she said, sternly - black eyes looking dead into mine over the dark lipstick stained glass. With my head between her thighs, time didn't matter, Always my unashamed 'happy place', I lapped and fingered the soft baby pink skin without tiring. I squeezed her hand when she came, she dug her claws into my head, bandy but shapely legs rubbing my back, clawed toes twitching in the air, disappointed when she could take no more and I was made to stop, I loved to hear her come and with any skill, I love that I'm genuinely very good at it.

She would sleep until early afternoon but the chemicals in me pushed my adrenaline to wake me up as early as 5 am, it felt good to sit in bed with her, chewing Oxycontin, listening to music on headphones and reading, always reading, I could even sneak a conventional 'hug' out of her if I was feeling brave, by late morning I was so numb that I would go back to sleep to awake when she did. She was as delirious as ever when she awoke, she'd bite me, she'd draw blood and memories of whatever had happened the night before were held in contempt, disgusted by as little as a kiss when the night before we had such aggressive sex that my prick was sore to the touch and red raw. I ached to tell her I loved her, something conventional but it was a loose cannon move, no matter my motivations.. she wanted to hurt me and she was going to, I just wanted her to do her worst and get it over with, If only it were that simple - suffering was as much a part of this as emotional disconnection, I chewed my pills and passed her bra to her, as much as I wanted to look at her perky little bust, I wanted to win a brownie point or two.

We hadn't argued, I don't argue, in fact I rarely raise my voice but we laid back to back in bed and regardless of a copious amount of vodka being drunk, the mood on her part was bad. Love was not going to be made tonight, not that there ever seemed to be that much 'love' in our sex anyway, the physical side of things was so extreme at times that it felt animalistic but at the same time so strangely cerebral, it was no sex that I was familiar with. I dearly loved her, I ached for the day I could find a romantic gesture that I wouldn't be scolded for or emotionally destroyed for trying, she was perfect. I had taken over 800mg of Oxycontin since my fruit breakfast and for the time being at least there wasn't a lot of life happening in the buzzing mass of jelly where my sex organs are. She had upset me by making a remark about my mother (who was sick at the time) and on top of that, a very well to do friend of hers had put me in the mind that she was too good for me, too high brow, certainly too intelligent and although I considered myself cultured... that she was MORE so. This of course was in my head, an inferiority complex if ever there was one but to look at her, she was so far out of my league it was insane, I couldn't be with this girl that can't be fixed. I reached my right arm back to her thigh and the other thigh gently pressed down on top of it, I traced my way to her knickers and without the scolding I expected I ran my middle finger in figure eight's on the expensive fabric, soon she was warm, sticky and breathing out slowly, hard. She slid off her knickers and still back to back I slid the tip of my mid finger shallowly between the slippery lips. She arched her back so as to be able push onto my fingers as she wanted, she was on autopilot and it felt perfect, the fact that at this moment I am merely a hand to her just aids the disconnection she craved surely. Her breathing became almost arhythmic as she ground herself onto me and it struck me that despite all of the aforementioned gripes, high society, high brow... If I had a problem with that then surely it would be a coup for me to have this perfect girl in a bed that has not been changed or cleaned in living memory, riding my fingers as if her very being depends on it. She adds her fingers during the final moments and I switch from a shallow fingering and slide two fingers into her with my thumb to massage, the final frantic moments. she yelps and the gentle sideways bouncing turns to judders as she draws her knees up to her chest. She sobs and doesn't stop (although it gets quieter), It hurts me not to comfort her but that's not how she works, I don't even glance at her to assure her with a smile, I lick my fingers and before long I'm dreaming of pylons and electrical wires buzzing overhead.

playlist for the day:

Aphex Twin - 26 Mixes for Cash

Iannis Xennakis - Musica Viva 006

Slayer - South of Heaven

John Coltrane - The Olatunji Concert

Chain of Strength - the one thing that still holds true

Funkadelic - cosmic slop

Hail Mary - all aboard the sinking ship

SWANS - live in nuremberg

Dr John - gris-gris

Kayo Dot - choirs of the eye

Ink & Dagger, The Icarus Line, Harvest, Haarp, Foetus, Gay For Johnny Depp....

Justin Pearson '10 Underrated Albums'

Justin was very kind and swift in contributing to Deklein with his 10 'slept on' albums, once I had pried his autobiography 'From The Graveyard Of The Arousal Industry' from my girl's mitts I can say without bias that it is a genuinely fascinating read that I cannot recommend highly enough, even to read little titbits about some of my favourite San Diego bands in itself is thrilling enough for me but all in all its a well written, funny and engaging read - pick it up. (Photo by Jacqueline Coulon)

Warsawwasraw S/T EP: This thing is so bad ass I’m not even sure where to start. First off, the EP features the band as a five piece. Now, the band is a two-piece… and they are still amazing, if not better. But lets get down to the music; totally harsh and violent stuff with catchy hooks and great beats. Too bad this band is stuck in France, but at the same time, totally amusing that the vocalists on the EP didn’t speak English but the lyrics are in English. The band is not actually comparable to others, but to try to explain this (which I’m not a fan of doing), its like a fine tuned modern version of Crossed out, or Jenny Piccolo, due to similar song structure and delivery. All around, a great, yet underrated album.

Men’s Recovery Project “Frank Talk About Humans” LP: One of the early releases by this highly influential band that still seems to be well below the surface. This could partially be due to Vinyl Communications releasing it, as Bob who runs the label focuses more on fixing sinks and toilets like the ones at my house thanks to Neighborhood Plumbing. I think that Sam McPheeters exiting his Born Against career into this more obscure venture threw a lot of people off guard. Don’t get me wrong; Born Against is easily one of my all time favorite bands. But the entire existence of Men’s Recovery Project was so challenging, so creative, and well ahead of its time on many levels. I mean having a song on a CD followed by a “Trail Mix Remix” well before people were doing remixes says a lot more than some of the material that Dj’s I know now have done in their entire works collection. MRP drew from all sorts of relevant and irrelevant places and this album is loaded with shocking surprises throughout the entire thing. Not to mention its funny, catchy, annoying, confusing, ass kicking, and perfect.

Bird Blobs “Stihl Life” LP: This Australian based band, well below the radar is part Birthday Party, part Captain Beefheart, and seeped in some sort of moody and dark world, while equating to something totally original. The band is post something… relevant. The album came out early 2000’s and in my opinion will stand the test of time.

The Festival of Dead Deer S/T EP: I have a serious admiration for this band. I remember being on tour with The Crimson Curse and hearing that we were playing at Zed Records in Long Beach with The Festival of Dead Deer. Never heard them, but the name alone somehow assured me that they were going to be awesome. As we hung out at the record store waiting for the show to start, an old beat to hell car pulled up, hitting the curb, and stalled. These three guys got out, looking like death itself. It was like I just ran into real life members of the Adams family, but ones that would stab me in the neck for looking at them wrong. They immediately took the “stage” and burst into some sort of driving evil rock. As the drummer hunched over looking part Frankenstein/ part Spock, the bassist well over six tall stood there with his eyes completely rolled back into his head, and the guitarist thrashing and screaming like they were trying to get through the set as fast as they could so they could get their next fix, I was sold. Months later I managed to get my hands on a super limited 7” EP consisting of most of the live material I heard that night at the record store. There were only a couple hundred pressed and I simply knew that the world needed to hear this band. Unfortunately they split up due to a slew of issues. The 7” EP actually ended up making an appearance on the band’s full-length release “The Many Faces of Mental Illness” on Three One G years after the fact, and in my opinion, still hold up to this day. The LP is one part 7” EP and two parts live radio show from KXLU. I could only imagine what an actual legit album by this band would have been like. But the EP is what it is and its one the greatest musical discoveries I have come across in my time.

Birdland (Demo): I somehow managed to get this unofficial demo by Katrina Ford a few years back. This recording was post Love Life and pre Celebration. What it captured was something rare and something very specific. The lineage of Katrina and her other half Sean have made way from Jaks, all the way up to Celebration. The duo is amazing. Where I think this demo resembles Celebration’s early material, I think it also captured a very low-fi feel, almost like an odd garage band from the 60’s or 70’ that might have come from some related community of This Heat or Silver Apples. Birdland was the two musicians I have mentioned here, creating something beautiful and real.

Buraka Som Sistema “Black Diamond” LP: I stumbled upon this on tour thanks to the dudes in All Leather. It was really interesting to hear something as unclassifiable as this album… which is a great thing. For one, it’s seeped in Brazilian rhythm and beats, while delivering some pretty aggressive vocals. I suppose for lack labeling a group, you have something that even the electro world, or DJ’s cant wrap their heads around. This stuff makes you want to move your ass, start a riot, and denounce boring western culture all at once.

Crime Desire S/T LP: A local San Diego band that takes classic hardcore to a new level. The main draw I had to this album was the vocals. Ironically, on their previous albums, the vocals were a lot like The Crucifucks, which I also enjoy. However, the stuff on this album has such a great tone and delivery. People into punk and hardcore revival need to take note here.

Jaks S/T Single: Years ago someone asked if ever heard the Jaks 7”. Being from San Diego, and the fact that this band never made it out of the Midwest, I missed this entirely. Since the band was “pitched” to me by someone who played in Born Against, UOA, Moss Icon, etc, I had to investigate, I somehow managed to get my hands on a copy of this single, and let me say this: the packaging alone is worth purchasing. The silkscreen “gatefold” cover, looking like some sort of Halloween decoration was a nice thing to dress these two songs in. The tracks seem fitting for something on Gravity, or Vermiform back in the day. A post-punk delivery with some of the best vocals ever, weird drum lines, and great guitar work. The short-lived band released a CD adjacent to the single and called it a day. Lucky for me, I was able to join forces with the band and re-release the bands entire catalog on one CD called “Here Lies the Body of Jaks” on Three One G. This is easily one of my favorite albums, which has still managed to hold up for well over a decade. Many bands have come and gone; wishing they could harness the sonic creation here within the body of Jaks.

Made In Mexico “Guerillaton” LP: Lets just get this out of the way here and now… yes, this band features a member of Arab on Radar. And while Arab on Radar are one of my all time favorite bands, I think that Made in Mexico brought a whole other “world” of musical aspects to the stuff they created. Heavily influenced by Latin beats and rhythms, and by adding the growling political vocal delivery that Rebecca adds, this band is something amazing all on its own. Everyone involved in this band are amazing people, and so creative. The band fit well on Skin Graft, but still managed to stay fairly low key.

Pre “Epic Fits” LP: Pre randomly opened for The Locust in London a few years back. I had never heard this band, and I have to say, I was blown away the second they went on. Pre has so much energy, they are so angular, and are so much fun. Great musicianship, instrumentation, vocals, and perfect oddities added to the material that band created is exactly why this band rules.

Molly Ringwalds Boots Haarp and Norma Jean thoughts.

Haarp - I, II

From the outset I'll let you know that I think Haarp are FUCKING AWESOME. They seem to be building some sort of Hype bandwagon with reports of their (no doubt stellar) live sets spread via mouth and interweb, good stuff, they don't seem to put a foot wrong and these 2 cds on Phil Anselmo's as yet all-killer label Housecore can't help but put expectations for Haarp's next full length Astonomically high, when was the last time you felt that for a band?

They are simply THAT good, whatever they have.. it's undiluted, oppressive single minded and they are as tight as a gnat's pussy, they don't stray from the extremely hefty formula and nor should they, it's theirs, they've perfected it - an easy reference point would be EyeHateGod but just as easy would be Crowbar or in terms of how unique they are maybe early Helmet, certainly I've felt the same rush as hearing Helmet for the first time and that is something I'm too much of a miserable bastard, fuckhead to admit easily, jeez what the fuck gets us old farts outta bed every day anyhow?. back to Haarp.. Style doesn't override dynamics and vice versa, everything flows with tremendous groove and nifty songwriting, it all feels natural and hits like the first time you heard St.Vitus - the fact that these two cd's are DEMO'S no less should leave you in little doubt that Haarp are going to well worth your continuing support, Haarp Destroy.

Norma Jean - Meridional

Its mind numbingly obvious to drop the Botch comparisons considering it's been done all of their career but hey I like Botch still and Norma Jean still sound like them and have bizarrely taken the praise heaped on Botch's work and taken it for themselves... weird. I've never had an issue with the band being a christian band, nor would I - Training For Utopia are one of my favourite all-time bands after all. Over time NJ had taken botch's template and occasionally churned out a few enjoyable riffs, the fact that Botch split after their wonderful We Are The Romans (and dissapointing follow up EP) left cats like myself a bit more tolerant of god botherers playing Botchcore... I'd never say I was a fan but like a I said before, a few enjoyable riffs and bits and pieces are more enjoyable than a lot of newer bands entire discography's... I'll sift through endless crap just to find a few good jams, always have done.

Truth be known about Norma Jean, they have none of the dynamics, none of the song writing chops and ingenuity that kept Botch so Vital, probably the same schtick that had them burn out so damn fast too. Norma Jean has next to no dynamics, the collaborations on the last album gave away plenty about the influences, Chino Moreno and Page Hamilton led their vocal talents to tracks that sounded like piss weak Deftones and Helmet tracks repectively. The main problem is the bands need to use a hideous power-chorus for want of a better description to counter any burst of heavyness or the loosely strung together riffs that aim to be taken as 'chaotic', it sounds sloppy - live, the tracks are almost interchangeable and played sloppily (that isn't a bad thing by any means but finding some definition when the music aims to be complex and challenging is somewhat of a necessity). the lack of dynamics really eats away at everything they are trying to achieve, it just ends up being a long soupy mess with hideous pop choruses unwelcomely popping up at random and the occasional moment of something that sounds 'honest' and THAT is when they appeal, to me at least.

The most irritating thing about Norma Jean is that they are more than capable of churning out something great, an EP at least if I was being mean and uncharitable... but on the new album there is a track called "Everlasting Tapeworm", it starts with a great riff... I mean a real KILLER that made me think "oh, ok... now wait a minute", its great but of course it limps into an awful, sappy and affected and somehow tuneless Deftones rip-off of a chorus before returning to a lighter version of that riff... the song ends up like a fish out out of water flapping limply to death. The thing with me reviewing or even commenting on this kind of metal is that I'm slightly disadvantaged by never having had an expensive haircut maybe. At the end of the day, there is no excuse to buy this when there is a new Starkweather album out, an album that has been crafted ingeniously, had nothing but love, integrity, talent and talk to Rennie Starkweather and you'll know how damn seriously he takes and loves his music... its an amazing album (unlike NJ's Meridional).

The Haarp cd's are available from Housecore

Norma Jean goods should be at your local super market.

Recent Playlist:

Floor - Below & Beyond box set (Finally!)

Godflesh - bootleg

Harvest - Living With A God Complex

Ordo Equilibrio - the triumph of light and thy thirteen shadows of love

Pioneers of Electronic Music - compilation

Pageninetynine - Document #7

Crime - San Francisco is still Doomed

HTRK, Men's Recovery Project, Creation Is Crucifixion...

Chico Science & Nação Zumbi (CSNZ) : The Funkiest Band You've Never Heard

Usually the reaction when I play folks CSNZ is bewilderment that something THIS GOOD exists. Often they simply laugh when it catches them completely off guard. Whatever the opinion, it is almost unanimously that this is something almost unearthly and something that would be nigh on impossible to replicate even with the most skilled musicians. Like nearly all my favourite bands, this is the bands playing as if their lives depended on it and representing where they live, grew up and what makes them who they are. In this case, Chico Science and his assembled gang from Recife, Brazil- a Percussion Heavy, Groove Orientated music unique (at that point only to them) christened 'Mangue Beat'. Traditional 'Maracatu' Music fused with hip hop, Punk, Funk and Rock and whatever the hell else seems right - you can spot a sample from The Fall in one track if you listen hard enough.

On Feb 2 1997, the band was dealt a hideously cruel blow when Chico was killed in a motor accident en route to a major headline show in Recife. The band continue from strength to strength without their charismatic frontman as Nacao Zumbi having released 4 more albums and a DVD. None of the releases are below par and I'll happily sing the praises of any of those releases. Metal Heavyweight Max Cavalera has been one of the most vocal supporters of the band and whose first album under the Soulfly name featured the considerable talent of NZ's Jackson Bandeira on Guitar. On the Posthumous CSNZ release the band tore through a considerably brutal take on Sepultura's 'Refuse Resist' - interesting to consider what the lightweight 'world music' stages they were often booked for would make of that. David Byrne is also a great supporter and collaborated (albeit posthumously) on CSNZ material as did Drum n Bass figure Goldie who recorded 'Chico, Death of a Rock Star' in tribute, the strongest track to his second album and a stirring tribute.

They will always be one of my favourite bands. It took me forever to locate their entire discography, but that seems to be the case with all the bands I love (Spazz and Bastard Noise not withstanding). I can talk until I'm blue in the face and I still get infuriated at peoples lack of passion for finding incredible music . I love these guys with all my heart and I dearly hope you can track down some of their material if this sounds like it might float your boat.

CSNZ Discography:

1994 Da Lama Ao Caos

1996 Afrociberdelia

1998 CSNZ (Posthumous)

Nacao Zumbi Discography:

2000 Radio S.amb.A

2002 Nacao Zumbi

2005 Futura

2007 Fome De Tudo

The Nacao Zumbi DVD 'Propagando' was released in 2004 through Trama.

http://www.nacaozumbi.com.br/

Todays Playlist:

Randy Holden - Population II

Rolling Stones - Exile On Main St

Augustus Pablo - King David's Melody

Metallica - Live Shit Binge & Purge

Large Professor - The LP

Crowbar - Time Heals Nothing

Who Run Barter Town? Master Blaster Run Barter Town.

I wouldn't say that I spent a lot of time thinking about Actors. I draw a blank when my Wife mentions them, having her finger on the pulse of what is hip and happening. I however, just know that Angelina Jolie is that woman that is kinda Turkey-shaped and I know Mel Gibson because I think I dug the Mad Max movies when I was younger. You see, other than cases of schadenfreude I really don't pay THAT much attention to these overpaid, self-important tools.

I think I realised this when Jamie Foxx believed he really WAS Ray Charles after playing him in some bio-pic I'm yet to see... I thought it was a bit... sad?

What was I getting at? Oh... these Mel Gibson tapes released by his soon to be ex-girlfiend. Let me start by saying that I have faults the same as anyone else and what I might say may be misinterpreted (the grammatical flaws are a HUGE giveaway) , I am by no means a great writer but at the end of the day I'm content with myself knowing that I've done everything I can to make my life better. I'm neither Homophobic nor Racist - certainly not without MANY, MANY faults but I'll admit those without shame, I am what I am.

Now the kneejerk reaction to the content of the Tapes seemed somewhat outrageous to me. I'd like to compare what was said to the average Ice Cube album, for example "Go to the corner-store and beat the Jap up/Clean the Crap up/Out my City/Now the whole Block lookin' shitty". I loved NWA I'll admit, but the pedestal that Ice Cube's placed on is obscene - he even refers to his back catalog as having the answers for the trials young black americans face. I don't think that anything Mel Gibson said on his tapes were ANY MORE or less offensive than ANY of Ice Cubes shitty rhymes and lazy beats.

Its 2010 and most of us aren't kids anymore, aren't lost in Academia and aren't closed off from the fact that the average working Joe MAY WELL have a colourful idea and view on Race and Sex either passed down from their elders or others or formed themselves - just as easily they may have balanced p.c. views straight outta Oprah's manual of life. Many facets of life have opened up to me lately through my own further education, reading and life in general - for example: there are many, many relationships that are fiery, physically violent and may to the average eye seem 'unnatural' (for want of a better word).These relationships can't be filed under 'abusive' as they are natural to either party. Not everything CAN be filed into a neat little box - it's just how it is. It's what keeps life interesting - not necessarily easy to swallow for some folks. Violence, Hate, Race Relations - the whole deal has so many years to go and so many lessons to be taught and learned . I'm not going to begin and say that I know the right way but one thing I will say for sure is that I'd rather have the issues ON THE TABLE than hidden away under some ultra-politically correct rug!... I'd rather things were discussed and goddamn DEALT WITH.

I've never watched 'The View', In itself I consider it fairly offensive (imagine a show hosted by men whose sole aim was to bad mouth women?) however, It gave Whoopi Goldberg the forum to announce "I know Mel and I know he isn't a racist" which could actually be true. Not all racists are your cliche dumb fat-necks. With a job in the entertainment industry you would have to be pretty stupid to stick to your ultra right-wing guns if indeed that's how you felt. At the end of the day, all races are breeding and filling up this peculiar planet . Racists may feel like it is 'a necessary evil' to work for and amongst people of another race. If that really affects how you approach life, how are you to progress through your workplace? Through life at all? It just isn't realistic for anyone. Everyone wants to fuck... reproduction ain't stopping any time soon, concentrating on things you CAN change is clearly more important, besides when people of different races breed... their kids are always beautiful!.. FACT!

Whether Alcohol loosens ones tongue will always be up for debate but when in the heat of argument with another person, a concealed tape recorder generally isn't expected to be part of the deal .All manner of horrific, regrettable things are said to prove a point. At this point I sound defensive on Gibsons part and I'm not, not in the slightest - he's a dickhead, pure and simple, a religious nutcase too. Physical violence against anyone is despicable but to a lover? a wife? Pretty unforgivable in anyones book.

So Mel Gibson is a racist. I'm pretty sure that a good percentage of the people you go to school with, work with, stand in a queue with are as well. It doesn't matter what financial background or history, people from all over the spectrum have views that may seem abhorrent to you. Doctors, teachers - certainly politicians! Maybe that's a sweeping generalisation worthy of a bigot, but to me at least that has been MY truth!

I'm open with my flaws and happy to present them. I think I have a fair bit of mileage to my knowledge but I certainly wouldn't call myself smarter than anyone else. I like to be realistic that's all. Phil Anselmo of Down/Pantera/Arson Anthem/Christ Inversion and countless others caught the wrath of mainly the British press when talking about how White Males were not able to be openly proud of themselves. Looking at the footage I can tell that it could have been said more eloquently, but at the end of the day working class guys don't necessarily have a stage to voice their opinions. It wasn't something I personally would feel the need to say, but there is something wrong in my mind about the MOBO "music of black origin" Awards. I find that ceremony in itself fairly offensive due to being limited to one skin colour! Well, there we go back to Ice Cube and his shitty music. I always loved Hip Hop. In the late 80s I would religiously tape Pete Tong's hip-hop show and think hip hop music peaked in the early to mid 90's.I still unearth treasures now and again. I always like to feel that I can delve back into that stuff . I'm still annoyed by race double standards, but other than stating the obvious, hip-hop got me into hardcore and a whole world of music so I can't complain.

I am honest with others. When it comes down to it, I have gone through some horribly misogynist phases. Usually as a way of licking my wounds at the end of a relationship or through what turned out to be life altering fuck ups with girls way out of my league or self destructive waifs fucked up beyond all repair who I would let walk all over me because they let me try and be 'Man The Protector' - what a peanut I am. There was no serious hatred behind my misogyny (at least not to my memory) but some anger which was misguided and immature without the shadow of a doubt. I would certainly never ask forgiveness for those moments. Indeed, I actually have female friends that dealt with the brunt of it, they are STILL friends with me because they saw through it I guess. An apology would be pointless because its a fault of mine and I can't promise I'd never childishly react in that way again. It's part of me (having said that... I can't see me being that harsh to anyone). It was just part of my reaction to being emotionally hurt which I'll admit is very easy to do. I am by all means a bit of an asshole, but what you see is what you get.

You have a whole lifetime, or a year, a month, a week to improve yourself. Every day you learn and at the end of the day Mel Gibson is as much a douchebag as any other guy you'll bump into during the week.

*Fact Checked by Chantel de Sousa (who does not watch 'The view")

Playlist:

Public Image Limited - Plastic Box

Growing - Pumps!

Large Professor - The LP

JG Thirlwell - Manorexia : The Mesopelagic Waters

Grief - Come To Grief

Kayo Dot - Coyote

Aphex Twin - Come To Daddy EP

Refused - Songs To Fan The Flames Of Discontent

Antioch Arrow - Gems Of Masochism