'healed by
hallucinogenic gods'
'lame' guru helps j.f. with his
writer's block
seattle gay news january 25, 1985
by j.f. tiger
Hi, faithful readers! Ever wonder
what old J.F. does when he takes those frequent vacations fro writing the
ongoing adventures of "Throb"? Sometimes I wonder too! Other times, I go
on exciting, exoeriential highs, like a few weeks ago when I attended a
workshop at the I.M. Lame School for Reviewers With Writer' Block.
What a fantastic guru I.M. turned out to be. For example, when I told him
of my recent frustrations with trying to capture the unique energy of
Saccharine Trust's new album on SST Records (Surviving You, Always),
he guided me past the mundane, ordinary language I might have used and
instead revealed to me a plethora of powerful, verbal pulchritude- egregious
with the same kind of originality the band exudes.
"Let the words ejaculate from your mouth," instructed my teacher. "Just
like the lead vocalist Jack Brewer does when the muse fevers his brow
and his angry, often macabre twists of reality come gushing out in screams,
moans, sarcastic snarls, and angst!"
"You mean, don't be normal? Don't be ordinary?" I asked
"Right. Like Saccharine Trust. Hit the listener with urgent
material and dangerously incredible delivery."
"You mean the readers," I corrected.
"Yes, yes," he pandered, "the readers, of course. There's a lyric sheet
in Surviving You, Always! Did you know that?
I chuckled. "Know it!" I declared, "Hell, I've almost memorized the
thing!" It's the epitome of high-grade punk literature! People think all
these bands at SST records do is drop acid and act obnoxious, but in
reality, they're prophets- Gods, partying with the guts-and-soul concepts
that most of us shudder at! That's what the reality of the 1980's is
all about! There's shit all around us! It's in us! In our minds
too! And these guys know how to deal with all that and translate it
into recognizable comfort and pain for out poor, little stereo-fried
skulls."
"That's good!" my guru explained. "Go with that."
"Joe Baiza's nervous guitar scratching and maiming is enough to
make the album X-rated because of violence," I asserted.
"What else?"
"Mark Hodson on bass and Tony Cicero on drums remind me of
getting beat up by some real big monsters! Jack Brewer's
"sermons" are wretched through his possessed voice, not sung, but bled out
like the truths and weapons they really are. Jack's voice is theatrical-
oblique- mesmerizing."
"Good, good," coached I.M. "Tell me more!"
"I see blood! Demons! Hell in my living room! As I was writhing around
on the floor with this album blasting like the apocalypse all around me, my
mother came to visit, and upon entering the damned area, spoketh such:
'What is that stuff? Even I know that something's not right
about that!"
"Those guys are in an ugly groove," my coach said. "It's nightmare
stuff, but we love it, don't we?"
"Yeah," I said fondly. "We love it. Now if only I could write about it."
"Just think about everthing you just said," he instructed," while you sit
in the corner for the next twenty-four hours. And by the way, don't go to
the bathroom, either."
I didn't sit and hold my juice the designated time, because I felt cured
of writer's block already. SaccharineTrust provided inspiration!
Let's see the radio/discotrons to that!
Be brave! Try this album. If you can live in a state where they're
dumping neclear debris and not fell nervous enough to move, you ought to be
able to listen to this record without too much flinching. (No fair
taking Valium before hand.) WARNING: You're in for a genuine
psychedelic experince!
