KMFDM - SUCKS

 

FACTORY INTERNATIONAL

KMFDM – SUCKS

Wax Trax! Records

 

            It’s 3:00 am and I am at the Guarapillo Hotel in Costa Rica. I should get some sleep because my plane leaves at 8:30 am. But I cannot wrap my head around the events of the last hour, nor of the strange man who just left my room.

            About and hour ago, I was deep in slumberland dreaming I was feeding Bette Midler’s cat when a heavy knocking came from the door. I awoke bleary-eyed and stumbled to the hotel door.

            “Who is it?” I asked.

            “Room service,” a cheerful, and heavily accented voice responded from the other side of the portal. “I have a delivery for Mr. David Zayas.”

            I yawned as I opened the door, but I was cut off mid-yawn by the feeling of cold steel entering my mouth. The stranger at the door had shoved the muzzle of his gun deep in my mouth. My heart froze, my bladder loosened, and I felt a tiny stream of warm liquid race down my left leg.

            The stranger entered the room completely and kicked the door closed behind him. At 5’6, he was shorter than I am, and non-descript in appearance. He had one of those faces that, although not necessarily ugly, wouldn’t stand out in a crowd. It was apparent that he was of Latino descent, maybe even a Costa Rican resident. His jet-black hair stood in sharp contrast to his clear green eyes, which now stared into mine and threatened to swallow me hole.

            He pulled the spit-soaked gun from my mouth, and with an evil leer, he waved the gun in a gesture for me to sit down on the edge of the bed. He sat on the low dresser across from me, and still levelling the gun at my head, he asked: “You will tell me what your mission is and what you transported into my county. You will tell me in detail and in truth. Speak now.”

            I bit my lower lip and stared back at him. What the hell was the talking about? I squeezed my legs together and ran a hand through my hair. I didn’t know what to say. I know that if I told him the truth, he wouldn’t believe me. Characters like him never do. But I couldn’t lie either. I was stuck. I chose to tell him the truth.

            “I… I don’t really know what you are talking about,” I began. “I mean, what do you mean ‘mission’? I’m just a courier.”

            He cocked his gun.

            “Hey!” I said and stretched out my arms, palms open, towards him. “Hey! Uh... wait a minute! Listen, I will tell you everything. Just give me a moment. Come on!”

            He just stared at me. I swear his eyes were smiling. He crossed his legs in an effeminate way, causing his pants’ leg to raise, revealing he was wearing no socks under his dress shoes. I don’t know why, but this made me even more nervous.

            “I… My name is David. But you already knew that. I’m a student at Kean College. I’m studying to be a teacher.”

            The stranger laughed at that. And it pissed me off a bit.

            I swallowed my anger and continued: “I got fed up with life in the States and my girlfriend left me. So, I decided to get away from New Jersey for a while. I became an air courier. I transport objects from one country to another, so I get to travel for next to nothing. It’s just a summer thing. I got this idea from a book I found at my newspaper’s office.”

            The man looked puzzled.

            “What newspaper office?” he asked. “What do you mean?”

            “I write articles for my college newspaper,” I said and lowered my hands back down and rested them on my knees. “I write about music and my life.”

            “Boring!” he smiled. “And what did you transport into my country? That is where my interest lies.”

            “Oh that!” I relaxed a little. “It was nothing. I was delivering a briefcase containing three CDs of the new KMFDM single to the Disco Loco record shop in San Jose. They want to sample it before they place and order from it.”

            “What is this KDFBM?” the gunman asked.

            “KMFDM,” I corrected him. “They are a German music group. They make very hard dance music. They had a couple of hits with “Naïve” and “Sex on the Flag” in the past years. Rumor had it that they were going to break up. But they surprised us all with this new single “Sucks.”

            “I am not surprised,” he said. “Do you know why?”

            “Why?” I asked, scratching my leg.

            “Because I do not care!” he said with rising anger. “I never heard of them. So, don’t they surprised us all because I was not surprised!”

            His sudden outburst frightened me. I leaned back on the bed and put my hands up once again. “Ok. Ok. I am sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you!”

            He jumped down from the dresser and, with the gun still aimed at my head, proceeded to kick around at the objects in my room. I presumed he was looking for something, but I didn’t know exactly what.

            As he searched, he said: “So what does this KMRTM song sound like?”

            “It’s KMFDM, man” I said, a little irritated. “The song ‘Sucks’ is a fast-paced dance song. The song samples a heavy metal riff, just like they did with their prior hit ‘Godlike’, but the guitar riff is not the primary attraction in ‘Sucks’; it’s the lyrics.

            “The song puts down just about everybody. They profess their hatred of rap, Michael Jackson, Madonna, and, of course, Depeche Mode. They also poke fun at themselves saying that their own music is worthless. The whole message of the song is to point out artificiality current musicians, and the fact that kids nowadays still buy their music even though it sucks.  

            “The single has four slightly repetitive remixes of ‘Sucks’ and one dance remix of their older track ‘More and Faster’. I prefer this mix to the original because it has a more accessible dance beat, and less focus is placed on the screeching guitars that dominated the earlier version.”

            Throughout my monologue, the stranger continued to search the room. By the time I was done, he had moved toward the door. He opened the door and turned to look back at me, his gun still levelled at me, but now he held it at hip level.

            “It is appropriate that you were transporting that song ‘Sucks’,” he said. “Because your review of it sucks.”

            “Yeah, but you listened, didn’t you?” I smiled. “That is exactly the point the song makes. Most people are subconsciously attracted to garbage. Even though they may not like it, they will get a good look before they turn away. Like passing an accident on the highway…”

            “Yes, Yes,” he said, annoyed. “I heard that one. Do you want to have an accident?”

            I swallowed hard. “No,” I said in a tiny voice.

            “Then forget we ever met,” he said. “Tell no one of our meeting. Go about your normal business as if nothing has happened.”

            With the gun now aimed to the ground, he backed out of the door and into the darkness of the hallway.

            From the down the hall, I heard his final words: “And listen to better music like Springsteen or the Bee Gees, because KMFDM sucks!”

Travel the World for Next to Nothing

 

FACTORY

Travel the World for Next to Nothing

The Courier Air Travel Handbook by Mark Field

 

            Today hasn’t been a good day. I got up at 8:00 am to be at work at the drugstore by 9:00 am. The only problem is that I was out last night until 5 am. Consequently, I was dead tired, and it was a horrible day at the drugstore. We received more shipments than usual, and I had to check them all in by myself.

            I was supposed to get off at 2:00 pm so I could stop home and eat before rushing to the video store for work at 3:00 pm. I didn’t get off work until 2:30, so I had to run home, clean up, not eat, and run to the video store.

            At We Got Movies, the customers were extra rude; the last VHS of Car Wash was skipping so badly we couldn’t watch it; I was sleepy; and I got put down by Allan and Tommy because I was a “confused ” and not gay like they are. But the worse part was that I had to work six painful hours with my ex-girlfriend of five years, Jennifer. She tried to be civilized to me, but there were moments when she bared her claws and ripped my heart to shreds. I listened to depressing music while I worked with her, so it was unbearable. There were also two arrests that happened almost in front of the video store.

            After work, Anthony, Patty, and I decided to go out to the Pipeline and have a good time. No dice. A bunch of frat boys had taken over the club and were wrestling on the floor with a sex doll. The DJ purposely played shitty music to get rid of them, so I didn’t dance. After a half-hour, I wanted to leave. But Anthony wanted to stay, so we got into a fight. I left both him and Patty behind and I walked out. Let them find their own way home.

            Outside, the gorgeous, but taken, Amanda came up and offered me a joint. I took it, but it turned out to be only a roach. I tried smoking it, but my lower lip got burnt and it began to blister.

            I got in the car just as Anthony and Patty ran up to it. They apologized and I let them in. Anthony wanted to score some smoke, so we had to stop by his house to get his connection’s number before I could drop him and Patty off at her house.

            But when we pulled up in front of Anthony’s house, I saw my friends Herbie, Kenny, and Ronald were hanging out on the porch. They treated me rudely and indifferently. Ronald even cursed me out for hanging out with his ex-girlfriend Patty. It really hurt, but I tried to ignore it.

            I dropped the kids off and drove home around 3:00 am. On the way home, I thought of all the bills I had to pay and all the papers I have to write. It began to rain hard, and I totally lost it.

            I passed my house, got on the Parkway, and wound up down at The Indy office. I forgot that since resigning as A&E Editor I no longer had a key, so I couldn’t get inside. I sat on the floor in the hallway, back to the door, and wondered how my day could possibly get any worse.

            I looked down and noticed there was a slim package sticking halfway out from under The Independent’s door. I pulled it out and saw it was addressed to our new A&E Editor, Luigi Sgambettera. Luigi won’t mind, I kidded myself as I ripped it open. The package contained a slender read book. The cover read The Courier Air Travel Handbook, but the words that caught my eye were “Learn how to travel world-wide for next to nothing.” I opened it, and what I read inside changed my life forever.

            Author Mark Field gives you step by step instructions on how to become a courier. This basically means you transport legal materials from one place to another. You carry stuff like books, files, computer discs, documents, etc. You pay only a small fraction of the airline fare, and you can travel the world. For example, usually you’d pay $1,000 for a round-trip ticket to Hong Kong; but if you agree to carry a bag of computer chips with you, you can travel for $200.00.

            This sounds amazing! This is what I need to escape my miserable life. I will become a courier! A world of excitement is waiting to be had. That’s what I’ll do. I’m outta here!

            I’m taking this book with me, so if you want to be free and travel the world- I’m sorry, my brotha. You must get your own. The book costs $7.95, but it’s a small price to pay for the excitement of world travel. You can pick it up at a fine bookstore near you; or through Thunderbird Press, 5930-10 W Greenway Blvd, Suite 112B, Glendale, Arizona 85306.

            This summer leave your lousy lives behind and join me on my travels around the world. Coming next fall: Factory International.

KONSTRUKSHUN - Protected (Demo)

 

FACTORY

KONSTRUKSHUN

Protected (Demo)

            Kim, Cathy, JD, and I stand before the ominous, dark edifice which is the Haunted House attraction at the pier in Long Branch. Although the day all around us is sunny and bright, this building is like a black hole draining the light and life of its surroundings. I don’t remember the drive down here, or even what we did prior to this. The only thing I know is that this spooky ride seems to be drawing us towards it through an unseen force.

            It takes a Herculean effort to bring my body to a halt, but I manage to do so and turn my head upwards to gaze at the blacked-out windows of the second floor of the structure. I catch a glance of someone peeking out at me for a quick second before the window slams down and they are gone. The pale face I saw had an expression of pure terror and pain. I couldn’t tell if it was male or female, only that it had dark sunken eyes and its mouth was open as if to scream.

            A sudden giggle draws my attention back to my companions. Kim, Cathy and JD seem oblivious to the overwhelming sense of evil emanating from this place. They are all smiles and laughter as they wrap their arms around mine and drag me onwards to join the queue of people already gathered near the front entrance. My eyes shift to look at the front of the line and I see another disquieting sight.

            The door into the mansion is being guarded by an extremely tall and thin doorman. His spindly legs, pointy head, and sickly, jaundiced complexion give him an almost alien look. He is wearing an ill-fitting bicycle shirt with the words “Schwinn” printed across the chest and a pair of tight spandex shorts choking his nether regions. An odd costume, I think. Looking at his face I am taken back by the most predominant feature on it- his smile. His grin seems to cover most of his face, his thin lips stretch across it, from one tiny ear to the other. It is reminiscent of an ill alligator I saw once as a child at Gatorland Zoo in Florida. The memory makes me shiver in primal fear.

            The doorman has been letting in small groups of four or five people at a time, based on who they were with. The five people in front of us go in, and we are next in line. The tall weirdo looks at JD and says: “My! You are a tall one! I really like your hair. It has that shiny, sweaty look. You know, sweating is good for you.”

            JD, obviously uncomfortable, mumbles “Uh-huh” and turns to look back at us for some sort of assistance. But Cathy and Kim are lost in conversation, and I can only look back at him helplessly.

            “You know…” the doorman continues. “If you ever have to give a urine sample, you should always wash the cup first. Or else, it will be a dirty, bad sample. No good. No. No.”

            JD gulps loudly and before any of us can react, we are being ushered into the inky blackness of the antechamber. Once inside, we turn back to the shrinking sliver of light from the closing door. We hear the weirdo giggling and see the tips of his waving fingers before slamming the door shut.

            In the darkness, we begin to move forward. Our arms are outstretched, searching for any walls or turns ahead. My eyes, still not adjusted to lack of light, are practically blind. I feel Cathy reach for my arm, and I lower it to grasp her hand. I experience a fleeting sense of comfort from her warm grip, but as soon as it comes, that safe feeling is gone again. A noise becomes audible from a few feet away from us and it grows into a pulsating beat. The rhythmic sound mesmerizes me, while simultaneously filling me with a creeping terror.

            Something bad is coming.

            A grating voice from the darkness growls the word “Suffocation”. I grip Cathy’s hand tighter, but I notice it has grown cold…very cold. And her hand begins to painfully squeeze mine. I try to pull my hand away from hers, but I can’t escape her talon-like grip. I am stuck and overcome with panic.

            First, I scream, then I kick at whatever has a hold of me. But it is to no avail. The hand pulls me forward with incredible strength, my legs useless and trailing behind. I feel it pulling me downward, through a thin layer of web-like material. Suddenly, I let me go. I fall through the darkness and land on a wooden floor, my arms and legs akimbo, like some discarded puppet.

            The darkness of my new surroundings is soon dispelled by a dozen black candles come to blazing life, illuminating a wooden stage. The pulsing noise I heard earlier grows in intensity and I recognize the stage as the source of this frightful music. There are swirling clouds of chemical fog pouring off the stage, obscuring the ground upon which I lay. The noise begins to coalesce into actual music, shifting in and out of a melody hidden deep within the noise.

            I get to my feet and quickly realize I can see more of the stage. At the rear, I see the shadowy outlines of two shapely women. Their hips gyrate and sway as they march closer the edge of the stage. When the light of the candles illuminates their faces, I see they are two gorgeous succubi dressed in black. They reach the edge of the stage and begin to grind against each other to the throbbing beat of electronic drums. The distorted and hidden melody grows in to crescendo and then stops. The she-demons stop as well and stare down at me, baring their fangs in an evil sneer.

            I take a small step back. Suddenly there is a loud blast of noise and a blinding white light, and the demons are upon me. They grab my puny arms and pull me backwards back down the foggy floor. I try to scream, but one of them wraps a gnarled and clawed hand around my throat, cutting off any sound before I create it. All I can do is watch helplessly as three more figures materialize from the brightness of the stage and stand at various podiums. Their faces are obscured as the white light fades away and is replaced by various colored lights. These chromatic lights blink on and off in time to a harsh industrial dance groove.

            The succubus griping my throat leans in close. I feel her warm breath against my neck as she whispers one word into my ear- Suffocation.

            I awake, bathed in the secretions borne from my sweat glands. I struggle to breathe as I slowly realize I am not in peril. I am in my bed. In my room. Safe. I close my eyes and let out a sigh of relief. But I am seized by a sudden panic. I can still hear the pounding hell music! I sit up and look around, my fight or flight response about to kick in. Then I realize it is only in my tape deck. I remember I was listening to a demo tape by a new band named KONSTRUKSHUN.

            KONSTRUKSHUN (yes, always upper case) is a three-piece band out of Pottsville, PA. The group is made up of Nasaj Ontall on vocals, Tenek Dorle on keyboards, and Sur Talos on guitar. With such varied influences as Skinny Puppy, The Cure, and Eric Clapton, KONSTRUKSHUN purveys a new hybrid of dark, dance oriented industrial music. Formed in 1990, they have played several successful shows at clubs such as The Silo in Reading, The Roxy in New Brunswick, and Club Redrum (Dazzles) in Clifton. At their performances, they are accompanied by two gorgeous and talented dancers Kathy and Chris, who gyrate in ecstasy to the pounding groove.

            I saw them recently at the Roxy in New Brunswick and was blown away by their stage show and song setlist. They are a visual and crowd-pleasing spectacle that had the entire club dancing and calling out for more. They even did a badass cover of Madonna’s Justify My Love, that had us all chuckling and grooving along to it.  It was a spooky fun night, and it obviously had such an impact on me, that I had a nightmare about them.

            KONSTRUKSHUN has an eleven-track demo titled Protected. Protected has several darkly satisfying stand out tracks like “Suffocation”, “Committing Suicide”, “Pushing In Your Head”, and my favorite- “Thoughts That Count”. It is a demo which is worth tracking down if you are thirsty for a fresh, spooky, non-compromising sound with intelligent and thought-provoking lyrics. Anyone interested can order Protected by sending a check or money order for $6.00 to KONSTRUKSHUN c/o Jason Modesto PO Box 94 Seltzer, P.A. 17974. You won’t regret it.

            My only complain about the demo is that it doesn’t include their stirring rendition of “Justify My Love”. Well, I guess I will just wait for their major label debut when they get signed. That is, if Madonna doesn’t mind.