SOLBAR COOLUM BEACH - SEPT 5
BOWERY BALLROOM - NYC SEPT6
Memo from the Illicit Affairs Office
From the desk of the Minister for Information and Defence.
It was another year, and one lone righteous beat combo escaped the quagmire of their previous incarnations that folded due to an insidious concoction of dubious sound and unknown quality. Their new home offered no respite from the inevitable tediousness of what was fortuitously described, as a ‘local scene’, albeit one that invariably alienated and excluded even the most timidly inquisitive passers-by. This is a scene which our heroes have been virtually banished from, leaving them riddled with a supine caution as a result inherent jealousy of their interestingly interpretative musicianship, superior drinking capacities, and the fact their lady friends and mothers prefer our company more than theirs.
Quite aptly revering themselves as ‘The TOTAL CUNTS’, in tribute to themselves and their various disreputable family members, friends, and acquaintances, these lads know their music history, and are not afraid to pass songs off as their own originals, in unashamed defiance of those ignorantly self-indulgent and obviously wrong philistines and heathens whom practice an abject aural banalism beyond the ken of those who supposedly ‘get’ it. Affectionately and continually referred to as ‘’oh…those fucken cunts’’ by those who do and don’t know them, their collective belief in purity and accuracy-defying interpretations endears them to none but themselves, and they are content to revel in their own nihilistic devices, individually in a traumatised group situation, where they can never agree on anything, for they are, after all, total bloody cunts!
On guitar and vocals is ‘dirty’ Al, the Alimal. Born, reared and ultimately fucked up north, he has aspirations of being mauled by women. His weapon of choice bro is a Fender Jazzmaster, and he emits somewhat scintillating and sometimes horrific sounds from said instrument rampaging through a marshall stack and an orange head.
An original founding member of the latter day smokin’ Jacknife, an original founding instigator of the stupendous Dirty Bullets, as well as being the sole member of polka-metal duo Satans Balls, the Alimal loves nothing more than fondling his guitar and engendering his many various trysts with many various local lassies. Dirty Al has neither residential address nor abode, and subsists on whatever he finds in the fridges of those unfortunate, self loathing bints that let him share their bed whilst he tosses on their backs. What a devilishly blundering cunt!
On the other guitar is Coxout "Hallway Boy†Craigor, an itinerate desperado hoping to be resuscitated by some old filly rattler drunkenly resigned to soothingly redeem his hearty loins. His is a history of questionable parentage, for no-one has conceded to actually having anything to do with his obviously ill-advised and ultimately preposterous conception. Coxout is a highly strung out, sexually frustrated, never-satisfied but easily impressed auto-eratic hallway recording autistic artiste.
An original founding member of the combustible Dirty Bullets with his northern compadre the Alimal, the ‘Hallway Boy’ prefers to wield a Gibson squeezed and poured through a marshall combo to stupefying effect, and aside from hellacopter-blowing, pick-sliding cliff solo’s enjoys nothing more than his own company and genteel kicks away from his sub-contracting job as a government marine accountant recruiter. What an abnormally sufferable cunt!
Straddlin’ the bass and contributing shouts is the notorious Steve ‘ rummer coxout on the goodwill bridge’ McFlynn, holder of a doctorate in black gold philosophy from Trinity College, long-time studying orthodontist, enthusiastic shin tanner, ex -Director of Product Sampling at Bundaberg Academy, more currently freelancing in secretive commercial enterprises.
The Rummer keeps his cards close to his stricken heart, his pants at his ankles or thereabouts, and exudes a wonderfully disarming and inclusive cackling as he waxes non-lyrically on issues of which the others remain blissfully ignorant of. He has numerous mistresses, some mysterious, others not so subtle, and the man is kept on a very long, chain-metal leash by his dominatrix second-cousin fiancée.
McFlynn has never played in a band before this, doesn’t want to now, and definitely won’t want to in the future, but his self-proclaimed aptitude at many differing instruments ensures his Chinese-made bass guitar throbs menacingly through a frankenstien cabinet of his own making, constructed in the hills of a Thai’s jungle. What a delightfully creative cunt!
The drummer needs no introduction, but answers to the name dickhead. No one knows or cares what he does. Suffice to say he is the most talentless cunt with a massive glass jaw, see his body laying on the pavement very soon.
The Total Cunts are travel-weary veterans of two shows at the same ping pong inner city venue - one a drunken, overwhelming triumph, the other a drunken, sabotaged debacle. A projected “Melbourne Cunts tour†was aborted when the band quite naturally assumed someone else would take care of it, a prime example of their lethargy, apathy, and barely-repressed contempt for organisation. A planned tour to the home of local cunt Sydney is in the process of being sub-consciously disorganised, whilst any chance of a local show depends upon the cunts being arsed enough to make a phone call to one of the local bands they gleefully despise yet ultimately musically lord over.
So there you have it…just a bunch of cunts!
Duke Donlan-Weller _____________________
Duke Donlan Weller
Total Cunts Minister for Information and Defence
11/ 01/ 2008
Myspace Layouts fuckyourself.com /