called The PWN House (the pown house), and this rag-tag crew encapsulates the only weirdoes in
the area. Oklahoma is square as you’d expect, and this flophouse is the prime jewel. These guys
have thrown every worthwhile show here for the past decade. They are so die-hard that no one is
allowed to listen to CD’s or iPOD’s in the house. It’s all vinyl or nothing, and rare LP’s & splits
are just lying in piles everywhere.
The huge Indian guy is named Matt Jim, and he’s the big dog of the household. He’s the
guitarist of a local thrash/grind band called Snotrokitz, and goes by many nicknames such as ‘The
Plow,’ ‘The Beastmaster,’ ‘30 Stone,’ ‘Bestiality Plow,’ ‘Matt Jemimah.’ Big Matt explains the
genesis of our current reality: ‘First there was The Skull House. This was back in the dark ages,
before Studio 360 where you’ll be playing tomorrow. The basement was no bigger than
someone’s living room, and half of that was taken up by the stage and equipment. So it was
maybe 40-50 people crammed elbow to elbow, like living cells in a piece of tissue. Just vibrating
and pulsating with all kinds of injuries.”
“Whenever Hammer from Japan played it was packed. Same with Hero Disown Us from
Finland. After the lease was up we had nowhere to throw shows. Then we found PWN. It’s called
The PWN House ‘cause before we moved in there were a bunch of gamer guys that played lots of
dungeons and dragons and video games. When they’d type ‘you got owned’ on their live link
they’d misspell it as ‘You Got Pwned.’ It just stuck. So for a whole year we had the ability to
bring all kinds of bands to our garage. But then the cops came to one of our shows and said if we
did anymore they would shut off our water and evict us all.”
No cops on the horizon tonight. Instead we’re playing beer pong, drinking whiskey, and
being fed an endless assault of killer vinyl. This short blonde guy named Tucker with two weird
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mullet dreads is in that frantic, ‘Ah ha! But have you heard this?!?’ mode. Shot after shot of
whiskey he keeps jumping on the turntable. I’m shocked to learn the boys are friends with
Catheter from Denver, and that they’ve done multiple shows with Cephalic Carnage. I notice a
flyer that lists Exitium and learn the guitarist will actually be at the show. Somehow another
priority band magically falls into my lap…
ADIDAS FISHNET RUMBLER
“So I'm at The Pita Pit. This is a few years ago, like 3 am on Saturday Night, and everyone is
coming from the bars. I look over the counter, and I’m thinking, ‘This can’t be real -- no fuckin’
way cause I’m stoned as fuck. But I see the zig-zagged corn-rowed hair and it’s really him -- it’s
Coolio. He buys a Philly steak and expects the extra meat for free.”
“He looks twacked out like he's been doing meth or coke, and wants to know where he
can get a dime bag. Later some people from the club come on in. I say, ‘Coolio came in tonight.’
And they say, ‘Yeah, he walked on his tab -- I guess he figures since he's Coolio it doesn't matter.’
Then all of us were like, ‘What the fuck is he doing in Oklahoma anyway?”
Tucker chuckles over his rap legend story as we drive to the $1 store. NASUM is blaring
on the stereo, and the phrase ‘THE MERLE HAGGARD MOVEMENT’ is sloppily painted over
the back windshield. He’s never been pulled over for it either, which goes to show how easily
country music can be utilized as police camouflage… Last night was rough. All I remember is
being told the dogs have scabies, and something about wrestling a Marine on the floor after
teaching each other choke-holds…
Inside the $1 store I get a weird tingle and look down. There is a little girl in a blue dress,
eyes burning a hole through my cranium. She points to the rotting corpse head on my Repulsion
shirt and declares, “Your shirt is scaw-wing me.” I look her in the eyes cut-throat as possible:
“GOOD.” I turn to the DVD bin ignoring her completely. Tucker fumbles around with
merchandise trying to act nonchalant for a half minute with the girl still standing there. He cocks
his head back and looks at her staring eyes, then explodes in uncontrollable gut laughter…
One of the PWN house guys – a skinny, tripped out drunkard named Gene – takes us to the
outreach program of a Christian church to acquire free food. The nice old lady gives us three bags
each, filled with groceries – eggs, bacon, granola bars, pop tarts, the works. Before she lets Neil
take his portion she queries what he does in life. He says, “Oh you know, just trying to take over
the world bit by bit.” Her face shrinks into this hideous, vulture-like scowl. “Well you know Hitler
wanted to take over the world too.”
Back at PWN we gorge ourselves before shooting off to see Grindhouse, which is
incredible. Death Proof is given new meaning when Gene blurts a classic line: ‘Mike’s problems
with women were exacerbated by the scar which also ended his stunt career, propelling him
towards high-octane murder.” I guess you just kinda had to be there…
Finally, my first real spoken word gig; I lead into it with Chuck the Homey, Matt Ratt, Jesus’s
EMINEM terrorism. Onward comes the knockout blow: “So, Oklahoma... This isn’t my first time
here. Anyone heard of a place called Muskogee? What is it, like 3 hours east of here? Oh yeah, I
hear them boo’s. Well, I thought it was mighty apocalyptic too.”
“We went there for the premier of this little movie we did called DADBOT, this gathering
called the Bare Bones Film Festival. The initial meeting was downtown, so all the filmmakers &
judges are present. People are line-dancing, drinking punch, then these air raid sirens start
wailing like its London being bombed by the Luftwaffe. Outside the sky is pea-green, and there
are 5 huge twisters swirling around us. We’re fucking doomed, you know? Last cigarettes &
shit…”
“But it can’t end like this, no fucking way. You see, I’ve always been convinced that my
life will end just like ‘Wayne’s World 2.’ As in with my dying breath, the weird naked Indian is
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going to show up and take me to the nether-realm. Just he & I & Jim Morrison eating acid in the
desert for eternity, dodging them unruly ‘Beetlejuice’ sandworms.”
“We’re all crowded in the bomb shelter, and by random chance the secret guest of the
program is actually – yeah, dead serious here -- the fucking weird naked Indian from ‘Wayne’s
World 2.’ Literally, he’s right there, except in blue jeans & flannel. He’s there tonight promoting
a cameo in ‘Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman.’ That one popular out here? No? What about ‘Walker
Texas Ranger?’ Ha ha, that’s right man. Chuck Norris doesn’t get rained on, the rain gets Chuck
Norrised…”
“Anyway, I walk up to the weird naked Indian, look him straight in the eye, and tell him
everything I just told you. Then I ask sincerely: ‘Sir, is it really time? Are you gonna take me to
Jim Morrison now?’ He stood there staring at me like I was completely insane, no idea what to
say. So I just shrugged: ‘Well, um… can I just have an autograph then?’”
I’m outside the venue chatting with a 16 year old Russian Jew on a skateboard. She’s trying to
convince me that she’s a ‘White Commie,’ a die-hard of the socialist sect Lenin wiped out. The
lanky vocalist from the bad nu-metal opening band is in a violent tizzy, rambling about slashing
our tires. Earlier this same terribly unmenacing kid (in an Adidas hat & long-sleeve fishnet shirt
neatly tucked into his blue jeans) ran up to Neil at sound check, throwing his arms in the air:
‘YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH MY FISHNETS MOTHERFUCKER?!?”
So this breedbate is freaking outside the venue, gathering his minions for a monkey riot. I
pull him aside: “Look man, I’m the tour manager. What’s going down?” Apparently Neil, drunk
as always, made some comment about the guys’ apparel to Glover. Then Neil was talking about
some fight he got into in high school, and somehow the guy twisted it around and thought it was a
declaration of war. Finally he relaxes, but his goon squad still goes back inside to make a fortified
line of crossed arm heavy metal-scowls, trying to intimidate DTB.
Neil busts into the set with joyousness, shooting lazar beams from his guitar that hits the
disco ball just right. Everyone is digging it, even the jaded crusties: “You know, everyone says
Jesus is a bad guy. But there was this one time I got stuck at the bowl with no toilet paper on the
roll. Oh my god, what a wreck. There’s just shit everywhere, chocolate all over the walls. It’s
dripping like a gelatinous Cosby mess of rocky road. What was I to do? What would you do?”
“So I start praying, and Jesus floated down on his heavenly cloud. And do you know what
he told me Oklahoma? Do you know what he fucking told me?!? He extended his palm oh so
lovingly and said, ‘Son. To prove you’re a man, you must wipe with MY hand.’”
“And I did. I shoved Christ’s hand right up my ass, dug it around a bit, removed every
last nudge of chocolate… And then Jesus smiled. Ho ho ho. And I smiled. Ho hum har… And you
know what he did? He grabbed the guy in the stall right before me, looked him straight in the
eyes and said ‘BITCH – it’s all because of you. That poo poo on my shoe. I must confess, I used
my shirt to clean up all this mess [insert badass drum blast here]…”
The fishnet rumbler & his entire squad roar with laughter throughout the show, and all
buy merch afterward. When fishnet finally approached Neil he was bracing for a punch to the
head. Instead the guy wanted an autograph. He gave Neil all of their door money ($60) and told
him they were one of the best live bands he’d ever seen. The Exploited does not do this. The
Damned have never done this…
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EXITIUM
Kirk Kirkwood: “Exitium actually just broke up four weeks ago. We started in September 2001,
originally as a joke band. We were named [indecipherable Latin], which was a horrible
misinterpretation. It was meant to be Satan And Friends, but it turned out to be Satan’s
Girlfriends. (Laughs). We decided to get serious and change formats. We practiced and wrote for
6 months then we played our first show. From thereon we started playing shows everywhere in
the metro area.”
Do you think people ‘get’ grind or is it still a small community?”
“It’s a really small community in Oklahoma. Everyone knows each other. In Norman we
have a legitimate grindcore scene. You get to other towns and you get kids that say they play it,
but its metalcore shit. They might claim to be grind on their MySpace, but that doesn’t mean
they’re grind.”
“What’s the touring been like?”
“We’ve done regional tours, but that’s as far as we’ve gone. We’ve played Colorado with
Catheter at their house. It was crazy, there were over 200 kids in this small place. We maintained
a good friendship with them, so they’ll come back and we’ll always play… The first album was
recorded in July 2002, but it wasn’t out until late 2004. It didn’t do that great, but that was
because there was no distribution behind it. We sent it out but no one ever really responded, and
we never really saw any reviews.
[Tucker charges into the PWN House kitchen in a whiskey whirlwind: “In two minutes
this guys gonna come running in like AAARRGGH!!!” Kirk and I look at each other confused and
keep going]
“What are some of your favorite books?”
I’m a big fan of Kurt Vonnegut…
[Now we know why. Matt Jim is a butt-naked Goliath, a monstrous, gelatinous shadow
blotting out the overhead light. ‘You wanted a weird naked Indian, you fucking got one!’ He
charges and presses me against the sink with his blubber, and starts disco dancing with his tits in
my face. I feel like The Undertaker battling Yokozuna at Summer Slam ‘94. ‘Ahhh!! Why is this
happening to me?!? There’s a weird naked Indian rubbing his balls all over my chest!!!’ The
entire PWN House is a looney bin. Matt backs off chuckling, and I take a swig of Jack Daniels]
“Well that’s a first for me. I’ve never been attacked by a 300 lbs naked Indian while
doing an interview before… Well… Ahem… Returning to the interview…”
[Amazingly he zangs back into his pre-flesh mid-thought]: “This last album is going to be
extremely political, the Grind After Death album. It’s going to be over the top, almost pompous
lyrics. He’s going balls to the wall with this. We’re trying to make the smartest grind album ever
made.”
“What happened with the break-up and will time heal all wounds?”
“We decided collectively not to go into detail about what happened. Obviously Exitium
was left with myself and the bass player. You can come up with your own conclusions’ [random
drunk guy wanders past and blurts‘they became Mormons’ before belching].”
“Tell me about Oklahoma. Are kids here so bored they just want to jump off
skyscrapers?”
“Actually I don’t think so. They’re not as crazy as you might think. Personally I’ve been
looking for people to go skydiving with, but it’s really hard. Everyone says ‘I’m not ready to die
yet.’ Come on, you’ve got to take risks… Our shows have always had a lot of injuries -- broken
teeth, broken fingers, all bloody. Kids splitting their head open…”
“Anything else you’d like to add?”
“I’m finishing Exitium with Grind After Death. It’s going to be about 40 minutes worth
of material by the end of the summer. Any bands out there that might be
looking for a guitar