Kittens, kites, the global communist threat, AIDS, matthew mcconaughhey, teen pregnancy, modern art, the bird flu, LSD, and most of all...reggae, but not the "bob marley" kind, the kind done the right way by white suburban, upper-middle class american teenagers...and blizzard man...booyakasha...respek
We're gonna start it out with some pessimism. The human mind is fucked. I mean...think about it...Hitler's Third Reich, genocide, prejudice, sitcoms, the McGriddle breakfast sandwich...and of course...the subject of this bio: a band originally formed in a dingy, repugnant, often-flooded, mattress-covered, hampster cage of a basement. Oh yes, that is correct, you know who I'm referring to...the feeble attempt at thrash that is the Roanoke, VA based band of no talent ass clowns, Thresher. Upon initial formation, the band was the one they refer to as Hairadactyl on the swirling mess he "calls" guitar work, the rhythmically challenged Spazzoid Captain McClumsy on the often humorous drum beats, and oddly enough, an actually talented individual on bass--Tommy Biggio. Unfortunately for Thresher, it was not long before Biggio realized that these dudes were going to tarnish and violently molest his good name if he didn't get out of that basement in a timely fashion. After months of tireless, diligent, late-night practices, Hairadactyl and the Captain had rendered a handful of "songs" that were quickly vomited into a collection of ill-fated microphones. These pollutant sound waves seeped through a series of cords and electronic devices into a computer and singed there stereophonic footprints onto a compact disc...the history of man is now tragically tainted and you will have to forgive me now, for I must take a break as to regain my composure from these violent convulsions and tears that so often overtake me when recalling this ghastly, dreadfully disappointing display of human behavior........................................................................................................................OK...where was I...oh yes, threher blows. Well, they did. Once this demo was completed, the douchy duo quickly secured an essential piece of the thrash band puzzle--vocals. You may be asking, "if they are so terrible," and believe me, they are, "then how in tarnation did they get a chap like Richy Dingle My Beverlies to do their vocals?" The answer: chloroform, LSD, duct tape, a basement, a CD player, a shitty demo, LSD, some pringles, and some LSD. Anywho, I'll save you the detailed explanation and leave it at that...you can put the pieces together it's not hard. After a few months of making the neighbors vomit violently, they took their shit parade to the masses. Oh, yes, they were now ready to hit the world by storm, to begin their multi-national, trans-continental musical conquest...and what better place to begin than Buddy's Bar & Grill in Salem, VA. Thats right, you read correctly...the legendary Buddy's Bar and Grill: for those ignorant douche bags who don't know, it's a historic rock n roll landmark where generation after generation, brave souls dare to challenge the inevitable inadequacies of the status quo, and forge a brazen path straight to the heavens with nothin but a couple a chords, a buzz, and a cool-ass attitude. Well, after a few shows followed, they started to realize this global takeover was gonna be a little more challenging than they had originally perceived. So, they decided to add some low-end to the equation. Before we go on, lets rewind to Richie's first day in the band...Richie asks, "who is gonna play bass you guys?!" Hairadactyl replies, "uh, huh," with that trademark rapist wit he is notorious for. The Captain then profoundly states that, "all the best bands have no bass player dude...I mean think about it, The White Stripes, Franky Goes To Hollywood...and Thresher." However, I now introduce exhibit A in the argument that there may perhaps be a god: Richie continues to push the bass player issue, despite his thorough cerebral cleansing, until thresher eventually hones in on another innocent, un-deserving target. You all know him from his tasty smooth bass lines in the legendary band This Brave New World...Brantly the Tall.
To this day Brantly the Tall and Richie B. are still attempting to dilute the filthy shitsounds these dudes keep cranking out. No one knows why they keep doing it. Some say it is the greatest mystery to befall man in centuries. We can definitely assume that it ain't the money, fame, bitches, drugs, or respect. So, whats left then? True altruism...that's what. And that is the purpose behind this long-winded story, that ironically enough, is about total shit music that, in my opinion, isn't worth a sentence, fart, cold french fry, cigarette butt, or an O'Douls. Thus, it is my duty to ensure that Brantly and Richie receive the praise and thanks they deserve for their selfless acts of humanity amidst a sea of apathetic, individualistic, lifeless douche bags who are...everyone but Me....and Brantly and Richie of course.
Dr. Phil, Professor of Life
Thanx for the video Miss Britney
We had a great interview w/ 'Elliott Yamin' (RVA) of "American Idol' last month ... You can check out our entire interview at: www.richmondmusicforum.com
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