Dear Friends,
Today is double nickels for my brother, Michael, who used to be known as “Chic Davis” in much stranger times. Maybe we were just stranger back then because it is hard to fathom that the times themselves were stranger. It’s hard to fathom that at all.
In the early and mid-90s when “Chic Davis” was leaving his calling card around town in the form of a sticker that read, “Men People Rule,” the times actually seemed pretty tame by comparison. We were much more worried about things like figuring out how to project a movie on a screen behind us when we played than the viability of democracy.
“Chic Davis” was our visuals guy in the early days of Hillbilly Devilspeak. He came up with some pretty nifty and creative shit. It was fun to collaborate.
We still collaborate now, though. Most of these collaborations are based around being happy and caring for each other and our friends, but we will create art again. There is no real choice right now but to do anything else. It is definitely time for the creative people out there to create some goodness in our world.
“Chic Davis” was a pretty angry guy.
In those days, we all were but didn’t really know how to use that anger to our benefit. Most days we weren’t ready for most of the feelings we were having, to be honest, and just muted them in one way or another. That stupid mute button is only helpful sometimes.
I’m glad that Michael has moved on to healthier thoughts and goals. I am really stoked to see what this year brings for you, my brother from another mother. I fully support your goal for this year (and all of them) and I’m here to help however I can.
I will see you soon. Happy birthday, Michael. I love you.
*****
The next three months are going to be very interesting. I feel like I have written that before, but it is true, yet again. Our nation is at a crossroads and I’m very curious to see how everyone involved in trying to get a President elected is going to behave. I can listen and ask questions and learn. I can vote. I can do my part here to try and keep peace and understanding at least a little bit of a thought.
I hope people think and take the time to really vote with their conscience and not their pride.
*****
This one goes out to my brother, Michael, on his birthday. If it wasn’t for him, I may have never discovered Christian Death’s Only Theater of Pain. We became friends in 1986 and by this point in Christian Death’s history, their music was not nearly as interesting at the stuff on Only Theater of Pain. I can only imagine that my view of them would have changed drastically if I had first listened to one of their other records.
One of the things I asked for, though, from my mother at Christmas in 1986 was Only Theater of Pain. She was quite entertained that she went to Zia and asked for it and they had it. If I remember correctly, she said that the person who helped her must’ve been a pretty cool mom. I’m pretty sure stories were told about this shopping trip at Easy Street for a while.
I didn’t care, though, and I did think she was pretty cool for going and getting it for me. For one thing, how many moms would do that? For another, it’s a great fucking record.
“Cavity” starts off the record with a sense of impending dread that unfolds in a way that makes me feel both dirty and exhilarated every time I listen to it. I had heard 45 Grave and Bauhaus a lot by the time I heard Only Theater of Pain, but I can’t say that I had heard anything that sounded quite like this record. It was spooky and great and rockin’.
Rozz Williams’ vocals were so good. The whole band killed it on this record, to be honest, but Rozz made it go. Rikk Agnew’s guitar work is great, too, and really had the sound perfectly, but Rozz was the engine here.
“I’ve got blood on my hands…”
When James McGearty’s bass line kicks in on “Figurative Theater,” I’m totally hooked. When that line up came and played the Mason Jar in Phoenix in 1989 or 1990, I can’t quite remember for sure, he sounded so great. They were sofa king loud, too. My ears rang for days.
Both “Burnt Offerings” and “Mysterium Inquitatis” are both solid, creepy, and I dig’em. As side A goes on, I probably like “Dream for Mother” a little bit more than those other two. Williams’ lyrics are great throughout the record and his work on “Dream for Mother” is just a blatant “fuck you” to the establishment.
I can understand why some of the people who came along and joined the band later tried to keep it going. The power on this first side of Only Theater of Pain is tangible. Christian Death had to be one of the most beautifully offensive bands to ever come out of Los Angeles in those days. I loved it, but most of polite society in the 80s would have found it repulsive.
So good.
Side two is the stronger side of Only Theater of Pain. “Stairs – Uncertain Journey” is another one (like all of them) that is there to pluck at the “oh, fuck” strings of the religious right. If I were a hacker, I would love to have broken into the Republican National Convention and slipped this into the playlist.
“Spiritual Cramp” is a flat-out rocker. It’s also profane and brilliant. The opening stanza is barbwire and brimstone:
“Incurable disease on the day of rest/I go walking on water in a sea of incest/I've got the image of Jesus embedded in my chest/I can't leave home without my bulletproof vest.”
When “Romeo’s Distress” kicks in, it’s over for me. I love that song. Of all the good songs on this record, it is my favorite. The Father Figures even recorded a cover of it, but we never did anything with it. We played it live a few times, though. Even with its disturbing use of the n-word, I love it. That probably makes me guilty of some type of crime in this day and age, but I have no reason to believe they were a racist band. If I thought otherwise, that would be a different thing and this record would not be on my list.
“Resurrection – Sixth Communion” is another good song and “Prayer” is a creepy ending with lots of delay and reverb. They were playing around a bit in the studio on that one and it’s okay. “Resurrection – Sixth Communion” has enough good stuff to make you overlook someone playing around with fun music toys.
Besides, 17-year-old me thought it was great. I still think it is great. You should give it a spin, too. Happy birthday, again, dear Michael.
*****
See you tomorrow.

This is who AI thinks "Chic Davis" actually is. I love it.
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