A Chat with KEVIN RUTMANIS and GINA SKWOZ of LORDS AND LADY KEVIN

 Author/journalist Joel Gausten talks with Kevin Rutmanis (Melvins/Cows/Tomahawk/Hepa.titus) and Gina Skwoz of the experimental duo Lords and Lady Kevin about their new album, Last Days at Hot Slit, a collaboration with Trevor Dunn (Mr. Bungle/Tomahawk) under the moniker Dunn with Lords and Lady Kevin.

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Art, Rock, Revolution: Remembering MIA ZAPATA and THE GITS with STEVE MORIARTY

Author and journalist Joel Gausten talks with Steve Moriarty of The Gits about his new book, "Mia Zapata and The Gits: A Story of Art, Rock, and Revolution" (Feral House), which celebrates the band's musical history and the life of its late frontwoman, Mia Zapata.

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A Halloween Chat with DR. CHUD

HAPPY HALLOWEEN! Author/journalist Joel Gausten talks with his old friend Dr. Chud (Misfits/The Karens/Dr. Chud's X-Ward/Solo) about his current projects, his history in The Misfits, and much more.

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WORDS FOR B.T.

Like many New Jersey punks of my generation, I first met B.T. back in the old Pipeline days in the '90s. There he was, the venue’s version of Norm from Cheers, sitting dutifully at the bar amidst the noise and chaos. Aside from an occasional handshake and nod, I didn’t really converse with him back then despite sharing the stage with The Wretched Ones numerous times. The guys in that band were our heroes — older dudes showing us young’uns how it’s done. Nobody could touch them.

Fast-forward to Labor Day 2023. I’m at my friend Kevin’s place in North Jersey when I spot B.T. grilling chicken. I reintroduce myself and start talking with him. That chat unfolded just like all the subsequent ones I’d have with him. He was always a little slow to engage at first, but then the conversation would gradually build to epic discussions on music and more. He was a humble, gentle, warm, and friendly dude whose company was never a drag.

When I got my YouTube channel going, I knew I had to get B.T. on the podcast. Although he seemed a little uneasy with the format at first, he quickly settled in to be one of my most engaging and insightful guests. Considering his history in the scene (which dated back to the '70s), it’s no surprise that it ended up being a three-parter. The final installment was posted just this past August. Please check out those episodes. Everything I’ve said about his personality will make absolute sense.

As a journalist, I try to seek out and document colorful people with stories to tell. My hope is to leave something of value behind if those individuals leave us too soon. What I didn’t expect was to see my channel represent fallen friends so quickly. I lost another guest and lovely guy, Jack Russell, just a few weeks ago. I had talked to Inger Lorre more than once about coming on, but she ultimately bailed as the trials of tribulations of her life and career had made her press-shy. The sting of her recent passing hasn’t gotten any better in the days since she left us. And now B.T. is gone.

I’m really tired of writing these fucking things.

The last time I saw him was this past Labor Day weekend, again at Kevin’s. He was in good spirits despite showing signs of bad health. As parties at Kevin’s often do, the night concluded with an epic jam. At one point, a group of guests started playing “Dead Flowers” by The Rolling Stones. I spotted B.T. sitting on an amp and playing tambourine. I immediately grabbed a tom-tom and played beside him. I had a feeling I should seize the moment and make some noise with him. It was my first and only time playing with the guy.

Yeah, I rehearsed with The Misfits, toured with Electric Frankenstein, sold out CBGB with The Undead, and got swept up in the Pigface maelstrom for 18 years. Who fucking cares? I got to jam with Billy Fucking T. My work here is done.

A short while later, B.T. got in his car and turned the ignition. I walked over and grabbed his hand through the car window.

“Take care, my friend.”

He nodded, smiled, and drove away.

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A Chat with hackedepicciotto

Author/journalist Joel Gausten talks with Alexander Hacke (Einstürzende Neubauten/Crime and the City Solution) and Danielle de Picciotto (Space Cowboys/Crime and the City Solution) of hackedepicciotto about their forthcoming release The Best of hackedepicciotto (Live in Napoli), their individual projects, their nomadic lifestyle, and much more.

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A Chat with DAVID LOWERY (CRACKER/CAMPER VAN BEETHOVEN)

Author/journalist Joel Gausten talks with David Lowery (Cracker/Camper Van Beethoven) about Cracker's forthcoming compilation Alternative History: A Cracker Retrospective, the band's experiences in the Alternative Rock boom of the early/mid 1990s, the economic impact of music industry changes on working musicians, Camper Van Beethoven's Key Lime Pie era, and much more.

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WORDS FOR INGER

October 18, 2024

Inger Lorre has finally found her place where nothing hurts and no one knows. Where does that leave the rest of us? Standing agape, pondering this female fireball who crashed to Earth (in this case, Matawan, NJ), blasted her way to Los Angeles, whipped up tremendous music and art, blew our frigging minds, and bid us adieu before we could even fathom what in the hell had hit us.

I already miss her terribly. She blew into my inbox — and my life — last December, shortly after I published a review of her album Gloryland. That album found me when I needed it most. The promo arrived just days after I found myself single (again), leaving me with plenty of free time to feel sorry for myself. If you’ve ever given that damn record a spin, you know what it did to me. My words on it caught Inger’s attention, and before long, we started chatting … and chatting.

The timing of the arrival of Inger’s … Ingerness … was impeccable, as it was Christmas Eve and, for the first time in years, I had nowhere to go. That evening marked the first of many conversations that were among the deepest and most intense I’ve ever had with anyone (the details of which shall remain private).

There we were, two Jersey crazies who flew the coop to out-chase our traumas and find a way out. At some point, I asked if she’d be interested in receiving a copy of my most recent book, “The 3 AM Girls and More.” Despite the book’s unabashed male gazeyness, I knew in my gut that she’d “get” it. She did — and even asked me to mail a copy to her mom! Fucking brilliant.

Our talks were surreal. Family, music, love, and loss — nothing was off-limits with her, and her words hit me like freight trains. She often sprinkled our conversations with references to the book, letting me know she had indeed read it and enjoyed it. She also offered to do the artwork for my next book cover. (She was such an amazing artist — on par with her musical output, for sure.) The last time I heard from her, she sent me a few more samples of her work to keep the idea fresh in my mind.

And then … silence.

I couldn’t sleep for shit this morning. At around 3 a.m. – naturally – I went on Facebook and saw Paul Roessler’s post with a photo of Inger and Schnitzel with a simple heart emoji. In that instant, I knew.

Inger was, shall we say, endearingly erratic. Hearing from her was always an adventure. Sometimes, her naked honesty and vulnerability shook my heart; other times, I could only strap in and hold on for dear life as her scattered words, random audio clips, and all-important (and always welcomed) Schnitzel updates flooded my senses and melted my brain. As individuals go, she was a fascinating bunch of people. And I loved them all.

My God, what a beautifully broken, fierce, fearless, frazzled, and fragile fucking nutjob. That kind of light is never destined to last long, but hers shone exquisitely.

I’ve often likened a creative endeavor to a solitary scream in the dark. Do we really want anyone to hear it? If we do, does it matter to us if they understand? Here’s the truth: It fucking does. I’ve been listening to Inger’s "screams" on record for more than 30 years. More importantly, I’ve always heard them.

Before I mailed her the book, I sent her this pic of the inscription. She replied:

“Awe…. So sweet (at least SOMEONE was listening!)”

A lot of us were listening, dear. I wish you were here to read the many heartfelt and heartbroken words about you online today. You were heard, you were understood, and you were loved.

Goddamn, I hope you knew that.

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