Entre Nous

Being a writer, poet, artist, and lead singer of a rock and roll band was not easy for David. Back in the early 1980’s, hair was the prevalent look-long curly hair and tight spandex-y leather with a vocal range that could break glasses. Guitar solos made or broke a song and young women would buy tickets much to the chagrin of their rocker boyfriends.

The 1980’s hair bands were the “in thing”; young women acting like proverbial prostitutes to get backstage to touch or even have sex with one of the band members. When it came time to put out, the girls would say either yes or no-most of the time yes but some just to do a hit or drink. Either way, the guys “came out on top”, so to speak. In the time of AIDS crisis, no one had it worse than band members.

Hence, Robin Crosby of Ratt. Dead at a young age from overindulgence of sex and drugs.

Not for David. Nope, David wasn’t like that all.

He wore latex prosthetics, painted his body up in a black greasy make-up and sported a long animated (word) that would offend (or amuse, depending on your audience) even the hardest of rockers. Many people looked at David as if he were something of an enigma but in all essence, David was David.

No, I correct myself.

David was Oppressor, the Savage, lead singer of the band, Grunk. He was all that was monster with his long metal sword, Point Blank; his presence graced those too heavy for Metallica and too dingy for punk rock. However, he never screamed to put his words across.

“You don’t just sound like guitars and belching when onstage, “he stated once, “no one thinks that art is random bodily functions after you’ve downed three bean burritos and two gallons of Pepsi at Taco Bell. If you want to sing, sing from your heart after I’ve disemboweled you.”

As you see, my David is all that is man. I do not ever doubt that.

As the early 1990’s progressed, bands became grunge, something he was loathing entirely. His words were, “God, they look worse than I do on a four-day bender; bad drag, thrift store clothes, and a face shadow worse than drag queens during prom night. Put on some (word) deodorant!”

He wrote songs, that was David. The lyrics ranged anywhere from talking about politics of the day to flatulence on speed up to and not including strippers making their fathers proud. Was the music sloppy? “We’re artists. It is all subjective-equal opportunity offensiveness and blatant boredom. Why are you asking me? I just work here.”

Sitting down with David out of his “attire” (he calls it), I decided to ask him about what Grunk has done versus what he sees (“observes, get it right” he corrected me) today. Without his makeup (“attire, woman, get it right or I’m ending the (word) interview”) and costumes on, he is trying his hardest not to be an (word) but it shows. It is difficult to pinpoint where Oppressor stops and David shines through (“I’m not schizophrenic,” he stated, “I like pretending a lot. Kids pretend all the time or is it that they have imaginary friends? Hell, I don’t know.”

I sat down with David to discuss what he sees are trends, yesterday versus today’s music, etc. I expected a lively conversation full of vim and vigor but, as the interview progressed, it became piss and vinegar. Across from me was a man (he calls himself the “mental meatball”) dressed in old Levi’s, a horror t-shirt possibly given to him by some fan who was starving for attention, and green tennis shoes from a retail outlet needing to vomit out their inventory.

We sit down in makeshift area full of guitars, various blotches name brand amps (some unheard of and some rather expensive), and a crapload of cables wrapped up neatly in piles with labels on them. As he was sitting down, he put out his burning cigarette, squinting as though his age was catching up to him.

Me: So, David-

David: Call me Murray. Like Murray Head. I fucking hate that band.

Me (blinking unscathed): So, Murray, I am here to do an interview about the trends of Grunk from the beginning to now. Has anything changed regarding the music and its audience?

He squinted again, playing with the cigarette but as though he had nothing to do.

David: What do you mean? Has our music changed? Rephrase your question.

I blink as if I were caught off guard.

Me: How has Grunk’s music changed over the years? Is your band more punk, more metal?

David finally looked at me as if I had an inkling of smarts or stupidity. You take your pick.

David (lighting up another cigarette): Good question. My wife states that Grunk sounds more like a sinkerator than metal. Then again, she is pregnant and sick of cooking for me.

Me (trying not to laugh): Your wife loves music, I assume.

David (squinting as smoke swirls into his face):  Fuck, the woman is a virtual encyclopedia of 1970’s music. She makes me look bad in front of my friends. It’s fucking embarrassing.

Me: You are 57.

David: And a first-time father to be. Kids these days do not appreciate it when grandparents have their grandkids. Losers.

Me: Grunk sounds more metal as the years go by.

David (taking a drag of his cigarette): You can say that I guess. I mean, we have been called everything from metalcore to death metal to toilet rock. Frankly, you cannot put any band into one category. Pink Floyd, maybe, but any other band, no.

Me: You sounded more punk in the early days-

David: The only thing good about punk were The Ramones. Butthole Surfers were good too but not played on radio. Their one hit, “Pepper”, genius. The Ramones took surfing songs and made them great. Instead of bleach blonde underage bait traps and baked on tans, you get this “Fuck you, I’m getting more chicks tonight than you do in a year”. They’re Annette Funicello with piercings, tattoos, and no birth control.”

Me (very amused): Who is your favorite singer?

David (taking a drag from his halfway cherried cigarette): My wife.

Me: Oh?

David: Nothing can beat my wife belting out Stevie Nicks while car accidents surround us like flies to shit. Amazing woman, she is, amazing woman.

Me: What else does she sing?

David: Lately, that woman has been yodeling to The Cranberries. I do not know why she is not on stage but give her five minutes on the microphone and she could out-sing most of the hairy vaginal secretions  with bi-sexual husbands getting paid millions of dollars.

Me: Oh, she is that good?

David: Oh, she is great but a better cook. Speaking of which, I pray to GOD that she makes string bean casserole tonight. That is a sign that I am getting laid tonight. God bless that woman.

Me: So back to Grunk’s music-

David: You are talking about music that does not exist anymore. Fun art vomit that used to be full of deviant surprises. Now, you must be something you are not to make any money. For instance, Metallica was metal to the core then suddenly went mainstream by putting out (GASP) a music video they told everyone they would not ever make. OOPS! Since that one video, everything changed for them. They went from “I’m going to knock your teeth into someone else’s mouth” metal to “Getting my rent paid is more important” metal. It is like listening to someone flush the toilet and wondering if a choad is in there or just lifting up the lid and -SURPRISE, the flusher is busted. They were forced into making metal sounding un-metal, does that make sense?

Me (trying hard not to laugh): I guess so.

David: Metal has changed drastically. When I first heard hair bands, God, I thought I would rather clean all the bathrooms in the Parliament with my tongue than listen to that seven-chord crap. It was like accidental papercuts were now somehow listed a possible sign for suicide. Hair bands were all about looks, posing pretty, six inch stilettos, and who could do four 8-balls in 30 minutes and still breathe. Note to write down: hair bands should be considered as domestic terrorism.

Me: Domestic terrorism?

David: God yes. They promoted drugs, faggy music, prostitution, and drag queens. Do you see singers today looking like that now? No. Today, you have Black Diamond, Ghost-many bands with theatrics and singing/writing abilities. If they existed back when grunge started, I guarantee you grunge would have been wiped out before it began.

Me: So, has Grunk changed at all?

David: Not really. Same concept except more influences.

Me: Such as?

David (taking a long drag): My wife.

Me: How so?

David (taking another drag): My wife came into a meeting of the band members and we do not allow our spouses to ever interrupt our trains of thought. She brought brownies in and of course, we devoured them in one sitting. God, we are pigs. Anyway, Jon-Bon asked her opinion on some lyrics we wrote. She stated, “Channel Robin Williams and George Carlin”. She is a freaking genius.  Then she played an old 70’s tune by shit I forgot, I do not know, and said, “Warp it”. Instant hit.

Me: What song was that?

David: “Fooling Yourself-Angry Young Man” by Styx.

Me (very curious): Oh really?

David: Her words were, “Chunk it. No synth, just guitars. She knew that we could take that song up so many notches. I do not know how I found her but-I cannot believe she told me to “chunk” it. We did and wah-lah! Instant number one. Now we can charge more for our tickets.”

Me: I cannot believe how full that song sounds. No synths?

David: Nope. Just overdubs and great playing and my wife at home over measuring the sugar again on the cookies.

Me (surprised): Your wife suggested this.

David: She is a Rush fan. That should tell you her taste in music.

Me: Rush is one of the best bands-

David: Correction. BEST BAND. They are from Canada, my home country. Peart, Lee, and Lifeson. The Holy Trinity of rock.

Me: What other songs did she suggest?

David (taking a long drag of his cigarette): God, I do not know how many, but we have a list. We are not a cover band by any means but there are some experiments you must do to see if the sound is what would fit our musical persona. We love our original music but sometimes, you need to get out of your comfort zone and explore. Bands do not do that anymore.

Me: Why not?

David: You overplay a song, and it gets incredibly old. Holy shit, here is one for you- “Keep Me Hanging On” by the Supremes. Over freaking played. Anything by The Supremes is overplayed in my opinion. You have Tobias Forge writing his own music by guitar and BOOM! It is a hit. People need original music, but he is covered a song or two just to jolt fans up.

Me: What do you not hear in music anymore?

David: Oh fuck, whammy bars. Whammy bars were the early vibrators for women. Whammy bars, I swear, was Edward Van Halen’s answer to Eric Clapton’s sobriety. Seventies rock was filled with whammy bars on every song and should have been used by Barry White instead of Peter Frampton.

Me (chuckling): That would be interesting.

David: My wife states as fact. She said if Barry White used whammy bars in some of his songs, we would have overpopulation. She is not a stupid woman by any means.  I’m still trying to figure out how in the hell she can retain the entire seventies musical catalog and while not even remembering how long to bake my favorite cake. I don’t fucking get it.

Me: She knows more music than you? You’re kidding me, right?

David (blowing out smoke): I wish I were kidding. I don’t understand how her brain works. I do right now because she’s pregnant and I somewhat DO understand but she still remembers every line to “Four Dead in Ohio” by Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young while cutting up too many peppers in the meatloaf. I hate fucking peppers.” It puts hair on your balls” Why the fuck do I need more hair on my balls? Answer me that.

David: Whammy bars guaranteed a blow job for the guitarists after a concert. Edward-he had Valerie Bertinelli, who looked like his twin sister, but who cares, right? Whammy bars were the sound and now, it is gone. You must use your fingers now to get the sound. Your fingers are calloused so badly that nothing affects you, but God forbid you use a whammy bar. God knows what it does to your sex life.

Me: I noticed that. It is strange that something made to get a great sound is now lost in technique and boasting. Many things are lost from the 1970’s that should be used today but that’s another topic for another day.

David (pointing at me): Correct you are. (hears his text bell go off on his phone) Oh crap, hold on. Hey Babe…. Prime Rib for dinner. No more stupid squid for me.

Me: What do you mean?

David (winking): For me to know and you to find out.

Me: Murray, thank you so much for the interview. I was very enlightened.

David: Anytime. Thanks for talking and SLUNK THE GRUNK. New tour coming out next year and live album.

Me: Must be exciting.

David (with a glint of conclusion in his blue eyes): We are heavily excited about this tour. We are hoping it will be better than our last one. (phone rings) Yeah, babe. Prime Rib, you told me. White, yes. Woman, what the-…honey, no. You cannot fit into that. You are 7 months pregnant (inaudible speaking) What do you mean you could get into it? Babe…babe…babe…no, babe…Geezus…you used HP sauce on what? Okay, that is it. I am on my way. (hangs up the phone). You leave your wife alone in the kitchen and she makes meatloaf with HP sauce on it.

Me: What is that?

David: The greatest sauce ever invented by Parliament. Hey, nice to meet you. I gotta get home. Have a great night.

He stood up slowly and put out his cigarette quickly. Opening the door, he exited the same way he arrived, and I was in awe of his entire aura. Today came and went as quickly as he did from the room.

All Hail Grunk!