Demo Release: Untitled, 1998-not in circulation 1. Yank my crank
2. Zoran the mad man
3. You are a loser
4. Steph
5. A punk like you
6. Shitfaced guru
7. Geraldine's a homosexual
8. I'll wait for you
*Justin Ho on guitar and some vocals
I honestly can't remember too many details about this demo. I doubt we even have a working copy between us, with the last known piece of the 100 we made rumoured to be in the hands of Funky.
And when I checked with him very recently, he tells me that it does not exist anymore. Fucking existential crisis! I'll kill him if I find out he threw it away knowingly.
I am pretty sure Justin wrote Yank my Crank and Steph. I don't know who Steph is but legend has it that Steph was a rather heavy crush Justin had. Mind you, Steph is a contraction that could very well mean Stephen.
Shitfaced Guru, by virtue of its title, can only be Aaron's.
I know Geraldine is a Homosexual is mine, inspired by none other than Screeching Weasel's 'I want to be a Homosexual'. I have a sneaking suspicion that A Punk Like You is mine too.
Zoran the Madman has the most interesting story of all.
Some time ago, the three of us got a job painting up a house that some guy named Zorban or Zoran was going to move into.
Zorban was a friend of Aaron's lecturer. So, the most logical thing to do when he needed his walls painted was to go to an art school and find some painters.
Aaron roped Justin and I in to make some quick bucks.
It was a semi-detached unit, not too big but had lots of surface area and a small backyard. Youth is invincible and we replied accordingly when Zorban asked whether we wanted to do half today and come back tomorrow to finish it.
"No problem, we'll finish it overnight tonight."
So we got to painting. It looked easy at first. There was only one colour, white, and the simple instruction was to paint everything. We started out being perfectionists in the living room. Aaron carefully painting the skirting while I started on the ceiling. Justin was stroking away at the walls with gusto.
By evening, Mr. Zorban came back we were still in the living room. He took a cursory inspection of the job done so far and seemed to be satisfied. What do you expect? One in the three of us is a fine arts artist!
"Hey! Hey! You see the holes here in the corners of the ceiling?! Slap the paint in! Slap it in! Make sure you fill it with paint! Slap it in!"
For some strange reason, Zorban talks at the intensity and volume of shouting. He should start a punk rock band.
He demonstrated by stuffing a whole load of paint into one of the many small holes and smirked when it looked like the patch was seamlessly covered.
"Ok, ok, no problem." We said. Zorban then left for the night.
Gravity is universal and the slapped-in paint soon became dripping rain after a few moments. I admit I must have faulty pattern-recognition because the more it dripped out, the more paint I slapped in and the more it dripped out and the even more paint I slapped in, and so ad infinitum.
Soon, the floor was covered in patches of white paint with the combined drippings and the flecks spewing from my vigourous slapping. Aaron and Justin added to it by singing and bobbing their heads along as they painted.
Funny how we didn't think of covering the floor with newspaper until now.
Instead of the usual ceramic tiles one finds in these parts, the floor was covered by a strange dark-grayish rubber flooring. It was cut to the size and shape of the room and was laid to fit snugly. We had turpentine so what the hell, we'll clean the paint at the end.
Aaron and Justin went out to tah-pow chicken rice for dinner and came back back finding me out front mindlessly chucking a sharpened stick I found into the garden soil. "Eh, you angry ah?" Aaron asked.
I wasn't at all. I just got fed up of fighting the stupid holes that refused to get slapped in and just waiting for dinner.
We worked our way through the rooms and by 4am, we were delirious. I found myself trying to paint the bathroom near the backyard and I shouted for Aaron. The bathroom walls were covered with small, boring white squared tiles up halfway. The rest and ceiling was surface.
"Eh, this one halfway up covered with tiles, the rest is wall. What should we paint?"
"Just paint the wall lah."
"Then if the fucking thing drips we got to scrub the tiles right?"
"...yeah, then how?"
"He said paint everything what. So paint the tiles also lah."
We started laughing uncontrollably. Fuck it, we painted over everything including the tiles. I remember us laughing hysterically and uncontrollably as we slapped white slabs of paint all over the bathroom. That, is the true meaning of delirious. The bathroom ended up looking like we filled a bomb with paint and set it off.
We collapsed in the living room by 6am and went to sleep. We didn't know whether we were done and frankly didn't care.
Justin stirred to life around 8 and woke us up. The place was a nightmare. Ok, time to clean up.
Most obvious was the paint on the rubber, grayish floor. We tried to get rid of it by pouring water and scraping it with those things teppanyaki chefs use. Doesn't work quite well, the paint has set into the rubber.
When we poured turpentine on it, the colouring of the rubber dissolved too, so we got a patch of light gray amindst the surrounding darker tone. Shit! how the hell were we going to clean this up??? We did think of dousing the entire floor with turpentine to get a uniformed colour but there just wasn't enough of turpentine.
Zorban came in around 11 in the morning. The floor must have certainly caught his eye first. Permanent splotches of light-dark gray over his precious rubber flooring. We followed behind as if we were waiting for our exam results as he inspected room by room, with his eyes bulging out and jaw permanently agape. There was no other emotion on his face.
"Its all painted. Can we have our money?" Aaron asked.
It would not do. We had to scrape off all vestige of the white on the floor. I think Zorban came to terms with the madly-whitewashed everything else and the still visible holes. Afterall, we could continue to slap it in and ruin the flooring for good. You have choose.
Zorban brought us more turpentine and we flooded the floor with water and started scraping like crazy. Out came a mop and Aaron started using it like a shovel. On and off we splashed pails of water on the floor - someone read that the paint was soluble. Zorban left for lunch.
Suddenly I heard a loud 'Argh!' coming from the living room. Justin and I rushed there to find Aaron kneeling amidst the water with his hand on his chest.
"I think I have a heart attack!"
He was really suffering with a pained expression and looked like he could keel over very soon. The three of us slumped right there in heavy breaths. At least its almost over.
Zorban came back. Still expressionless, he peeled off $450 worth of $50-buck notes and handed them to us.
We were filthy. Hair and clothes covered with paint, sweat and grime. We stunk a strange sour-emulsion-turpentine-ish stink. When we finally started ordering food with wide 'we did it' smiles at the local canteen, the hawkers must have thought that we were, at best drunk construction workers, and at worst escapees from the mental institute.
The next afternoon found us busy pissing away our hard-earned $150 each at Tower Records.
We ran out of money the same day. I'd imagine and I thought Zorban might need some rectification work on the painting of the backyard bathroom. But we never heard from him ever again.
P/s:
If I find the demo in my room somewhere, amongst the antique cassettes, of which there are many, I will update this page.
Update - 6th April 2010.
I found our demo.
Dug out my old tape recorder, something I haven't seen for a long time. I am surprised that electricity can still run through her veins.
I used to record raw material in my room with it and have a large pile of blank tapes for this purpose.
With its cheap paper jacket missing, the demo was snugly hidden in a nondescript case and completely unmarked - the way we could afford it back then.
I played every suspicious tape until I found it. Well worth the time.
Let's begin with the eulogy for Zorban's house.
Zoran the Madman (Justin, Aaron)
Did we all paint Zoran's house? A hundred bucks! Oh yeah!
Did we all destroy his house? Look at the floor! Oh yeah!
Did we all go crazy? Beyond reason? Oh yeah!
Did we all clean up the mess? Yes, we did. Oh yeah!
Did we really do this by ourselves? Monday was a blessing in disguise. Did we really do this by ourselves?
We're gonna kick your ass tonight!
Can we really do this by ourselves? Monday was a blessing in disguise. Can we really do this by ourselves?
We're gonna kick your ass tonight!
(stick around to the end to hear an imitation of Zorban by Aaron)
And when I checked with him very recently, he tells me that it does not exist anymore. Fucking existential crisis! I'll kill him if I find out he threw it away knowingly.
I am pretty sure Justin wrote Yank my Crank and Steph. I don't know who Steph is but legend has it that Steph was a rather heavy crush Justin had. Mind you, Steph is a contraction that could very well mean Stephen.
Shitfaced Guru, by virtue of its title, can only be Aaron's.
I know Geraldine is a Homosexual is mine, inspired by none other than Screeching Weasel's 'I want to be a Homosexual'. I have a sneaking suspicion that A Punk Like You is mine too.
Zoran the Madman has the most interesting story of all.
Some time ago, the three of us got a job painting up a house that some guy named Zorban or Zoran was going to move into.
Zorban was a friend of Aaron's lecturer. So, the most logical thing to do when he needed his walls painted was to go to an art school and find some painters.
Aaron roped Justin and I in to make some quick bucks.
It was a semi-detached unit, not too big but had lots of surface area and a small backyard. Youth is invincible and we replied accordingly when Zorban asked whether we wanted to do half today and come back tomorrow to finish it.
"No problem, we'll finish it overnight tonight."
So we got to painting. It looked easy at first. There was only one colour, white, and the simple instruction was to paint everything. We started out being perfectionists in the living room. Aaron carefully painting the skirting while I started on the ceiling. Justin was stroking away at the walls with gusto.
By evening, Mr. Zorban came back we were still in the living room. He took a cursory inspection of the job done so far and seemed to be satisfied. What do you expect? One in the three of us is a fine arts artist!
"Hey! Hey! You see the holes here in the corners of the ceiling?! Slap the paint in! Slap it in! Make sure you fill it with paint! Slap it in!"
For some strange reason, Zorban talks at the intensity and volume of shouting. He should start a punk rock band.
He demonstrated by stuffing a whole load of paint into one of the many small holes and smirked when it looked like the patch was seamlessly covered.
"Ok, ok, no problem." We said. Zorban then left for the night.
Gravity is universal and the slapped-in paint soon became dripping rain after a few moments. I admit I must have faulty pattern-recognition because the more it dripped out, the more paint I slapped in and the more it dripped out and the even more paint I slapped in, and so ad infinitum.
Soon, the floor was covered in patches of white paint with the combined drippings and the flecks spewing from my vigourous slapping. Aaron and Justin added to it by singing and bobbing their heads along as they painted.
Funny how we didn't think of covering the floor with newspaper until now.
Instead of the usual ceramic tiles one finds in these parts, the floor was covered by a strange dark-grayish rubber flooring. It was cut to the size and shape of the room and was laid to fit snugly. We had turpentine so what the hell, we'll clean the paint at the end.
Aaron and Justin went out to tah-pow chicken rice for dinner and came back back finding me out front mindlessly chucking a sharpened stick I found into the garden soil. "Eh, you angry ah?" Aaron asked.
I wasn't at all. I just got fed up of fighting the stupid holes that refused to get slapped in and just waiting for dinner.
We worked our way through the rooms and by 4am, we were delirious. I found myself trying to paint the bathroom near the backyard and I shouted for Aaron. The bathroom walls were covered with small, boring white squared tiles up halfway. The rest and ceiling was surface.
"Eh, this one halfway up covered with tiles, the rest is wall. What should we paint?"
"Just paint the wall lah."
"Then if the fucking thing drips we got to scrub the tiles right?"
"...yeah, then how?"
"He said paint everything what. So paint the tiles also lah."
We started laughing uncontrollably. Fuck it, we painted over everything including the tiles. I remember us laughing hysterically and uncontrollably as we slapped white slabs of paint all over the bathroom. That, is the true meaning of delirious. The bathroom ended up looking like we filled a bomb with paint and set it off.
We collapsed in the living room by 6am and went to sleep. We didn't know whether we were done and frankly didn't care.
Justin stirred to life around 8 and woke us up. The place was a nightmare. Ok, time to clean up.
Most obvious was the paint on the rubber, grayish floor. We tried to get rid of it by pouring water and scraping it with those things teppanyaki chefs use. Doesn't work quite well, the paint has set into the rubber.
When we poured turpentine on it, the colouring of the rubber dissolved too, so we got a patch of light gray amindst the surrounding darker tone. Shit! how the hell were we going to clean this up??? We did think of dousing the entire floor with turpentine to get a uniformed colour but there just wasn't enough of turpentine.
Zorban came in around 11 in the morning. The floor must have certainly caught his eye first. Permanent splotches of light-dark gray over his precious rubber flooring. We followed behind as if we were waiting for our exam results as he inspected room by room, with his eyes bulging out and jaw permanently agape. There was no other emotion on his face.
"Its all painted. Can we have our money?" Aaron asked.
It would not do. We had to scrape off all vestige of the white on the floor. I think Zorban came to terms with the madly-whitewashed everything else and the still visible holes. Afterall, we could continue to slap it in and ruin the flooring for good. You have choose.
Zorban brought us more turpentine and we flooded the floor with water and started scraping like crazy. Out came a mop and Aaron started using it like a shovel. On and off we splashed pails of water on the floor - someone read that the paint was soluble. Zorban left for lunch.
Suddenly I heard a loud 'Argh!' coming from the living room. Justin and I rushed there to find Aaron kneeling amidst the water with his hand on his chest.
"I think I have a heart attack!"
He was really suffering with a pained expression and looked like he could keel over very soon. The three of us slumped right there in heavy breaths. At least its almost over.
Zorban came back. Still expressionless, he peeled off $450 worth of $50-buck notes and handed them to us.
We were filthy. Hair and clothes covered with paint, sweat and grime. We stunk a strange sour-emulsion-turpentine-ish stink. When we finally started ordering food with wide 'we did it' smiles at the local canteen, the hawkers must have thought that we were, at best drunk construction workers, and at worst escapees from the mental institute.
The next afternoon found us busy pissing away our hard-earned $150 each at Tower Records.
We ran out of money the same day. I'd imagine and I thought Zorban might need some rectification work on the painting of the backyard bathroom. But we never heard from him ever again.
P/s:
If I find the demo in my room somewhere, amongst the antique cassettes, of which there are many, I will update this page.
Update - 6th April 2010.
I found our demo.
Dug out my old tape recorder, something I haven't seen for a long time. I am surprised that electricity can still run through her veins.
I used to record raw material in my room with it and have a large pile of blank tapes for this purpose.
With its cheap paper jacket missing, the demo was snugly hidden in a nondescript case and completely unmarked - the way we could afford it back then.
I played every suspicious tape until I found it. Well worth the time.
Let's begin with the eulogy for Zorban's house.
Zoran the Madman (Justin, Aaron)
Did we all paint Zoran's house? A hundred bucks! Oh yeah!
Did we all destroy his house? Look at the floor! Oh yeah!
Did we all go crazy? Beyond reason? Oh yeah!
Did we all clean up the mess? Yes, we did. Oh yeah!
Did we really do this by ourselves? Monday was a blessing in disguise. Did we really do this by ourselves?
We're gonna kick your ass tonight!
Can we really do this by ourselves? Monday was a blessing in disguise. Can we really do this by ourselves?
We're gonna kick your ass tonight!
(stick around to the end to hear an imitation of Zorban by Aaron)
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