The Zine I Almost Made With Michelle Tea

What: I collaborated on a fanzine with Michelle Tea.

Where: Boston.

When: 1989-1990.

Why: Michelle and I were teenagers, still living with our fams, both working not-quite-hip minimum-wage jobs on Newbury Street in Boston. We'd each scored interviews with our favorite bands at the time—I'd lugged a boombox to chat it up with Chicago proto-grunge band The Jesus Lizard on their first tour, and Michelle had a typewritten transcription of her interview with pioneer goth rockers Christian Death. That was all each of us had, so we decided to pool our interviews and put out a zine.

What happened: Despite our collective teenage fervor, two interviews isn't quite enough to warrant a zine. Some friend of Michelle's had contributed some stupid four-panel comic about a guy getting run over by a lawnmower, but that was it. Eventually Michelle and I drifted apart and the zine never happened.

Legacy: Michelle Tea went on to co-found the Sister Spit spoken word tour and has authored and/or edited over a dozen books, two of which (The Chelsea Whistle and The Passionate Mistakes and Intricate Corruption of One Girl in America) are largely about our circle of friends who hung out in Copley Square in the late 1980s. Her work is a milestone for a generation of writers and readers interested in feminism, queer culture, sex work and memoir. Meanwhile I went on to write about Bollywood music for a couple of magazines and put out a handful of highly obscure publications under the name Cardboard Capers before contributing a chapter to the anthology Realizing the Impossible: Art Against Authority. 

Michelle and I reconnected in 2004 and she's invited me to read at the underground writers series that she hosts at the San Francisco Public Library. Check back to see if this actually happens—or if it becomes another episode in the Almost Archive.

Helped start Sunburned Hand of the Man

What: I played bass guitar, alto sax, tambura, and bunch of other instruments in the experimental psych-rock band that would become Sunburned Hand of the Man.

When: 1991-1998.

Where: At a warehouse in Charlestown, Massachusetts.

Why: The only "looking to start a band" flyer I ever answered was up on a wall at Mass College of Art where I was taking a super-8 filmmaking class. It mentioned the Thinking Fellers and Sun City Girls as influences, so I dialed the number and a guy calling himself Rich "Dontius" answered and invited me to bring my bass over to Sullivan Square where I ran it through my Blue Tube distortion and an amazing effects pedal called the Bi-Phase II. With Rich on guitar and some other guy on drums we sounded a little like Chrome or Hawkwind jamming in their 1970s heyday. A week later we got together again but the Bi-Phase II had been leant out and we weren't feeling it. I ended up in the Swirlies and remained friends with Rich, later giving his cassette release Shit Spangled Banner heavy rotation on the radio.

After Shit Spangled Banner's breakup, Rob, the bass player, started holding weekly open practice sessions in his warehouse—the same one that Rich had invited me to a few years before. I came every week, now playing alto sax, but then took a left turn into tooting my horn for Homes Not Jails instead.

Memorable Moment: Sunburned Hand of the Man's third show was at a club two blocks from my house. This one song fell into a familiar note that caused me to run home, grab an antique brass automobile horn, and then dash back to hop on stage, blowing into the car horn which was, as I suspected, in perfect pitch with the song.

Legacy: Sunburned Hand of the Man have released over one hundred albums (I think I'm playing on last year's release "The Loft Tapes, 1996-97") and done numerous tours of North America and Europe (see this impressive list of places and people they've played with). They are in part responsible for the neo-psych-folk revival that hipsters call "New Weird America" (a.k.a.: "Post-Punk Jam-Bands").

Regrets: The Bi-Phase II disappeared with erstwhile member Conrad Capistran. I leant my Blue Tube to Mary Lou Lord and never got it back. My sax is busted and rusting under the bed, otherwise I'd be the guy with the beard in the video above.

How I Joined Guitar Wolf

What: I played guitar for the Japanese noisabilly band Guitar Wolf.

When: May, 2006.

Where: Chicago, Illinois.

How: My very last night living in Chicago and Guitar Wolf was playing at a club. I’d nabbed their first two LPs (sounding like a rockabilly band recorded on broken equipment) and spun them on the radio in Boston. I loved these records. Anyway, some friends came with me to give me a proper send-off in that packed club. We were right up front against the stage and I had drawn a big “A” on one of my hands and a “♠” on the other in a plea that the band would play “Ace of Spades” by Link Wray. When the three members of Guitar Wolf came out they took no notice of the marks on my hands or that their instruments were totally out of tune. They were brilliant, a sheer cacophony of 1-4-5 riffs in total disarray. I pulled a dirty hanky from my pocket, wrote “Jack the Ripper” (another Link Wray classic) on it and flung it at the guitarist at the end of one song. It landed on the head of his feedbacking guitar. He looked at it and passed it to the head of bass player’s instrument, who then passed it on to one of the drummer’s sticks and the band played my request.

The crowd was already going nuts when Guitar Wolf jumped into “Kick Out The Jams” by the MC5. Midway through the song the guitarist threw his guitar down and came after me, grabbing me by the arms. I tried to run but he pulled me onstage, strapped his guitar around my neck and yelled the words, “Jam on it!” into my ear. He held his guitar pick in the air, slowly bringing down into my outstretched palm. As soon as I had that pick between my fingers, I struck up the MC5’s three unforgettable chords, adjusting the pitch for the de-tuned guitar while my friends danced up a storm at my feet.

Memorable moment: Saying “bye” to the drummer after the show while he was throwing up in an alleyway.

Legacy: Guitar Wolf have since launched their own clothing line and starred in the Japanese zombie horror movie Wild Zero. Check it out: