Dateline: Tombstone, AZ, 1998.
I had just come back from Germany. My first real “away from the parents” experience. For a whole summer. I was staying with my friend Chris, at his parent’s house in–yes, THAT ONE–Tombstone, AZ. We were bored, we were hot, and so we decided what better way to spend the day than starting a band? Tony A from San Jose was in town for the week, and we figured out that between the three of us, we had enough instruments and energy to make a band.
Yeah, this is gonna be one of those posts where it’s all about me and the band I’m in.
We had been playing croquet a lot. In fact, we even had a croquet gang, complete with tshirts and backpatches:
You’d be amazed how many crusty kids would come up, look at the patch, and want to talk about CRASS. “It’s not that CRASS, dude. Look at it again.”
So, the only thing left was to create a band. What kind of music should we play? Cochise County Croquet Core, what the fuck else?
Drums didn’t need to be mic’ed, and we had a guitar amp. We didn’t have a bass amp, but we did have a tape deck with a microphone jack. A trip to radio shack for an adaptor later, and we had a bass amp:
We had been hanging out for the week, and every random encounter we had that made us laugh became a song title.
“Food is my bitch” is about how i was such a good cook that, well, you get it.
“It’s not beer” was a quote from a homeless man with bottle in a paper bag outside Wal-Mart.
and so on.
We wrote the songs one day. Went over to our friend Scott’s house (Scott had a sweet ass recording studio in his house. I wish I could remember the name of the place…I’m guessing he’s still there. If anyone reading this needs recording studio time in Sierra Vista, AZ, get in touch and I’ll track him down.) the next day to record them and write lyrics.
We recorded the last 6 songs in this collection that day. We then switched up instruments and became the Crppld Strpprs. (That’s ” Crippled Strippers” with no vowels, get it?)
The following day, I forgot all my bass parts.
A year or two later, Chris, Tony and I crossed paths in San Jose, CA, so we recorded some songs at Nothing Studios in San Jose. Those tracks became the first 7 songs on this collection. Again, the same method of writing songs one day, recording the next, and coming up with song titles based on wacky hijinks.
Some time after that, Chris was in the studio with Ray and some other people, I think, and recorded the songs in the middle of the collection. I don’t know who played what, but there was a lot of “musical instruments” (pun intended) happening, where everyone played every instrument at some point.
In case anyone’s still reading this and wondering what we sounded like, it’s pretty rocking punk. Skate punk, street punk, it’s all in there. I never really got it when bands would avoid talking about what their music sounded like. Now I get it.
If you listen to only one of these songs, Nick Fitt might be the best song we ever wrote. It’s dedicated to and about that MRR columnist who we all loved to hate.
Blessing McAnus 0:46
Mom Sex Dad’s A Real Sex Machine 1:06
It’s Not Sex, It’s Worms 0:43
Slags & Bastards 0:35
Rock and Roll Asshole 0:54
Phillip Oliver Hole 0:37
Nazi Santa, Fuck Off! 0:27
Banned From the Mall 1:11
I Gotta Pee 1:00
Art Major, Fuck You 1:16
Gonna Start A Drug Habit 1:49
U Think I Suck 1:47
Die Fucked 1:28
Social Fucker 1:08
Yr Society My Ass 0:58
Eat My Vegan Fuk 0:50
Food is My Bitch 0:46
(I Hate) Parentheses 0:21
Emo in My Pants 0:57
It’s Not Beer! 0:49
Nick Fitt 0:39
21 songs in 20 minutes? How can you go wrong?
The Shitty Wikkets went on a national tour in around 2002, I think, with Emo Summer, the Four Letter Words, and maybe one other band. They came through Denver, and I got to sing with them again at the punkest show I’ve ever been to. But I’ve said enough already.