Spikster's change cup - More cash than any Shiloe gig ever

Spike Anderson Presents - Great Moments in Shitty Band Decisions with Marty Stevens

Recently Spike Anderson, Esquire industries caught up with our new field correspondent, Marty Stevens. He followed an up and coming Los Angeles band on their recent tour of the Pacific Northwest. He tells us the experience was exhilarating and that every once and a while he was paid in pizza.

Marty "Buttbroom" Stevens, Field Correspondent

Shitloe, Pacific Northwest Barnstorming Tour '07

This is a rundown of the horrid shitloe '07 tour.

Day 1: Mood: Chipper -- Weather: Gay
Drive to SF and Play some shitty bar in San Fran. with other shitty band "Astral" they suck, they make 15 bucks selling CDs and 20 bucks for playing(chump change it cost them each like 300 dollars each to do this tour). Ken's vocals and the bass did not sound good. At least we got free drinks!! Highlight of the whole tour....

Day 2: Mood: Fuck this -- Weather: ...
Drive all the way to fucking oregon to play on some crappy university radio station. No one cares and the interviewer doesn't even let us talk. The people went out of their way to show they didn't give a shit. Later, they play a house party with no booze and get no pay. Also, they couldn't fit the kick drum in so the drummer had to play someone else's cheap, fucked up kick drum. Stay at some guys shitty apartment.


Day 3: Mood: Hungry, feed me -- Weather: Send Money!!
Drive all the way to Seattle and play way too early (like 930) at this shitty club. But, at least we get to man the door and take any money that comes in, right? Well, only like 15 people show so they make around 50 bucks. Great...we made some money.....no wait it cost 50 bucks to rent the place, no money. Sleep in some shit house. Wake up early so....

Working the Door: Pay to Play

Day 4: Mood: Dead in Fresno -- Weather: Where the fuck is the van.
..you could drive all the way down to SF for a free in-store at Rasputin!!! Great right?! Now they can sell their new cd...only..they end up playing to the sound guy and no one seems remotely interested except a homeless guy trying to steal CDs. THEY MAKE NO MONEY. Later, they play some dive bar. It turns out the first band stole all the beer and they end up playing to 15 people there to see the next band after us. The band makes no money and our van breaks down. It will cost a lot to fix it. Band members drive home separately. After all this the other band members wanted to play a show the next day on someone else's shitty equipment.


Rider: Item #29: Mustard Pump

The Trip Back

"A whole generation exposed to mainline narcotics shootin'"

Strange Rumblings from Central City East

Gotta say it: Vampire Weekend is the best band ever to blow their trust fund at Guitar Center. They've got it all. Pretty boy preppy attire? Check. Noodling guitar work a 12 year old could ape? Check. Pretentious songs and lyrics about jerking off to the Oxford English dictionary? Check. If you like this band, you probably eat at Ruth Chris every day and and enjoy hitting the homeless people outside of Food 4 Less with your rolled up bank statements.

At first I went to one of their shows by accident. I was fucked up and thought I was going to see that gay vampire movie "Midnight" or whatever. The plan was to take a few rails of Extenze, put my John Thomas into a hole in the bottom of a popcorn tub, and offer nubile single mothers a sloppy handful of imitation butter substitute and wang. Instead I seemed to have stumbled into the musical equivalent of a middle school talent show without the perk of being surrounded by underaged prepubescent schoolgirls with daddy issues.

They're the only band I've ever seen pull off the Reverse Cash Grab. "What's a reverse cash grab?" you ask. It's selling your parents' house in the hills to go slumming in a Silverlake apartment full of whitebread failed abortions who say shit like "cool beans" so you can try to make it in the world of high-finance, Music Connection-inspired dance pop fuckery. It's making a video featuring the guy from Bubble Boy playing tennis with a Jonas brother and taking pulls from what looks like a bottle of maple syrup. It's about pointless references to a culture you probably know nothing about (i.e. Japanese culture) and making a 5 minute long video that is a glorified ad for American Apparel. Of course, this video is supposed to be making fun of those things. You know, IRONICALLY. But is it? Or is it just the wet dream of the indie hipster who does everything ironically, so that he's now incapable of saying anything anymore except "I make shitty music?"



So Bruce Springsteen won a court case against Ticketmaster. I guess his fans were tricked into buying tickets to his concert when they really wanted to stay home and not hear some dried up old fuck trying to look cool in skinny jeans and play "Born in the USA" again for the millionth fucking time. But at least he won that case, so I guess that's the end of Ticketmaster then...oh wait, that's right. They still own everything. So I guess from now on Bruce is going to have to play all his shows in non-Ticketmaster venues, which means he'll be playing the Cahuenga Chili Cook-off and Craft Fair for the next 6 months on his "Going Fucking Nowhere" tour. Looks like you're going to be trying to sell your own tickets at the door, Bruce. What's it like being on the same level as a member of Shiloe?

Listen fuckos, there is no greater evidence of the Illuminati than the continued media coverage of that dead-eyed wasp woman St. Vincent and her songs about her fucking cats. Only a powerful secret organization with an agenda to bring down all of our standards with brainless wannabe folk music could explain how this she could end up being in nearly every goddamned magazine when no one really gives a shit about her sub-Lilith Fair tampon party bullshit. If I want to see pictures of someone who is pasty, effeminate, and has the body of a heroin addict I would open up the Wikipedia entry for Pete Doherty. At least he knows where to get the best Speedballs and Thai prostate massages.

Record Reviews by Spike, You Fuck!

....I swear, wait let me wipe off my Sergei's upper lip...Damn you're messy! Anyway, as I was saying, If i have to listen to another hipster fuck wax on about how the Spikester doesn't have his ear to the ground and his dick on the pulse of the youth....I'll have to up my rates and that means no more space coke parties for you and the San Bernardino sword swallower you met off of craigslist. So the fuckos want album reviews....well maybe I'm too busy trying to silence the nightmares - barking dobermans and crying babies - with a bottle of ether and black mamba. Oh but not just any record review..."NO Spike! We don't want record reviews from the vault of a meth-faced piss collector from the year '82." Shit you future doorway dwellers are
demanding, everyone knows that music died in '84...and then was sodomized by the necro twinkfest supergroup Faster Pussycat in '86!




So shit, give the people what they want!




Normal People - Soft Crash Lp (shoulda been a CD-R), S.S. Records, 2010
3/10
Normally I would give a 5 stars or a stepped-on pinched gram for trying...you know for the scag money forfeited while transporting the fill-in drum machine to practice and the coke-fueled nights trying to jam the master real-to-reel into the cd player - but this shit is worse than an ambien footjob. Lo-fi garbage fronted by a vocalist...a vocalist that may or may not be a feral cat with its nuts in a vice and ordered at knife point to scream disinterestedly into the mic or his hog supply will "dry up". 12 useless tracks sure to make your hipster fuck ass proclaim, "This is heavy man, this is heavier than that michoacan or that tied stick". Remember when you were 12 and you turned up the reverb on the amp to 10 in order to hide the series of miscues on your recital of "Jimmy Crack Corn"? Well replace "Jimmy Crack Corn" with 12 bar blues and then stab it with an ice pick right before you drain your meth filled bladder on its rotting corpse. Almost sounds good right....its not. Truth is, this is garbage and drugs can't make this any better.





Julian Cacablancas - Phrazes for the Young, RCA, 2009
6/10
So apparently Julian has stopped the booze and the charlie and my cash flow has dropped off a solid 40% in the 4th quarter of my fiscal year (which started when I dropped your ass outside of the Rainbow Room and celebrated with a rail off of a hookers ass...Lemmy was there, just ask him). Like I said, he's cleaned up and hes off the booze and apparently riding Stephin Merritt's johnson....or DICK in laymens terms. So if you're into bagging 24 year-old psychology post-grads with daddy issues, poor self-image, a fleeting interest in french flicks, and a sanrio collection...buy it and go hog wild! Just make sure to thank ol' Spike. Ludlow St. tries to mainline some David Bowie Low before it gets into a barfight with Garth Brooks and the Disneyland Main St Electrical Parade. I was impressed that he sang an Ode to Glass - tina, go, biker dope, crank, ice, hawaian gardens baby maker, assbump, palm springs meet-n-greet, speed, 8-ball.....oh wait its about a girl...fuck this, no homo. The latter part of the album picks up a bit but nothing really stands out to Spike. I guess this is good enough to earn a residency at the Palace theatre and now I know why. You wouldn't want the crowd to go too crazy with all the antique velvet and god forbid someone needle a draino/mud/darvocet chaser and swing from the chandelier thus earning a lifetime ban from the oh so great Palace...sorry flashback. Hopefully the new Strokes album is better than this....SANS KEYBOARD!





The Ruby Suns - Fight Softly, Sub Pop, 2010
1/10
Lets see, According to the Hipster fuck manual of making a records we have the following: 1. A band name with some celestial object as the focal point, check 2. Ironic Paradoxical album title, check 3.Released on Sup Pop after the year 2001, check. Whoa, fuckos, we have the tri-fecta, sort of like a pegged pant wearin kid from Reseda buying a snort, some percocet, and a go with Sergei for $20...or as I like to say, a great times! So, the ad-wizards at Microsoft think they know how to find good music....they think they can pick any brown-eye teaser off the street and make them famous. Well, the joke is on you because not even slapping on a fake mustache and a "le" at the front of the band moniker can save this pile of dumpster seed. Forgeting that the first track, Sun Lake Rinsed, was ever made we settle in with the caucasiantastic ghetto fabulous intro to Mingus and Pike before it OD's on downers and Tijuana raver drugs. "But Spike, this is pop...this isn't the Pico Rivera thrash stylings of S.M.D....put your feet in the water..everything's fine!" Fuck you! The music could be a soundtrack to a scene titled, The Beach - its a sunny day, the waves are crashing, xanax is peaking, and the malibu trust fund bunnies are biting on your sweet gig and on the way to the rest room she pulls out her johnson and you say to yourself alright, I did a double dose of amyl just in case...and then you notice it is uncircumcised - guaranteed urinary tract infection. Back up the bus, shows over! After crying ol' Spike to sleep inside the shower stall at the Y, Spike has this to say. Ahem, go find a depeche mode album and a crap DJ album at Amoeba, listen to them simultaneously, get bummed, fashion a shank out of the plastic cases and then go have some real fun! Fuck this band!

Ruby Suns shimmy the money maker for Microsoft:


Microsoft: bend over now!

Ruby Suns Manager: Hey, you can't talk to my band like that...they have principals

Ruby Suns: Well wait...how much cash are we talking?

Microsoft: Um, well since we'll just be using roughly 5 seconds of your song, lets just say year long charlie supply?

Ruby Suns: Throw in some Valtrex and we'll sign away our entire back catalog.

Ruby Suns Manager: ......fuck.

Microsoft: EXCELLENT!

Hornin' In On My Action

Yesterday was a good day. I woke up at the crack of 3 PM in Forest Lawn covered in dried vomit and cheetos dust after some of the trailer trash spawn from the neighborhood started poking me with a dirty stick. So I did what any self-respecting skag merchant with a jones for cheap beer and shitty music would do: I hit the strip. Of course, one of my many stops along the way was the West Hollywood library where I tried to sneak in some quality time at hipsterdwarfpornandbikerfrottage.com. Instead I stumbled across some lazy scum-fucks from Laurel Canyon trying to parlay their jobs writing ad copy for Tampax into a spot in the LA zine arena -- Buddyhead.com

Slagging off bands on the internet is MY gig, you fucks! Once my lawyer gets out of that Columbian prison you'll be carving off a percentage to help the Spikester afford his appetite for heroin-soaked grapes and items from the Arby's dumpster menu.

Check out these posers:

http://www.buddyhead.com/buddyhead-newsgossip-%E2%80%93-06222009/

here's the article:

Chad “Horseface” Kroeger from Nickelback is being sued for assaulting a heckler outside a bar in Vancouver, BC. (http://www.chartattack.com/news/69225/chad-kroeger-sued-for-assaulting-heckler) Personally, I don’t see how telling Chad Kroeger that Nickelback sucks could be considered heckling any more than telling Clint Eastwood he was in Dirty Harry or telling shit it stinks. It’s just stating a commonly known fact. But I guess Chad didn’t want to respect the dude’s First Amendment rights (or whatever their weird Canadian version is called), so he pulled a Scott Stapp and punched the observant furniture salesman right in the face. The ass-kickee, Noah Christian Morse, is claiming he suffered “suffered a concussion or brain injury involving a loss of consciousness, dental injuries and discolouration, permanent scars to his face, headaches, sleeplessness, anxiety, moodiness and loss of concentration.” Yeah, I’d be pretty fucking moody too if I got owned by the lead singer of Nickelback in front of my friends. It’s not all bad news for Chad, though. Looks like he’ll finally be back on the open road again after getting sidelined by a DUI last year. You know, because what the world really needs right now is another dork in a mullet cruising around in a tacky-ass Lamborghini.

Did you ever ask yourself what would have happened if whoever dropped the mutagen in the sewer and created the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles missed the turtles and hit a group of turds that were floating around instead? Well, it DID happen and the freakish results of that accident started this band. They’re called Hollywood Undead and, needless to say, when we saw this video our jaws dropped right through the floor and are tunneling their way towards China as we speak. We would have just embedded the video except Hollywood Undead apparently asked for the embed links to be removed from youtube. Slick move pussies, I guess even you realized how bad everyone with computer access was gonna go to town on you when you put this shit out. How could this happen? Did the dudes from Brokencyde get impregnated by Slipknot, Junior-style and squeeze out these abominations, masks already on? Pretty positive Randy Rhodes has been doing helicopters in his grave ever since this public service announcement for why abortions should remain legal used his signature guitar riff in that beat. Things are getting worse all the time, kids. If you guys need us, we’ll be on top of the Hollywood sign with sniper rifles.

So Travis Barker almost died in a plane crash earlier this year. Since the crash all three members of Blink 182 have grown closer and have really come to realize that if one of them dies in a freak plane accident, that there’s no way All Tomorrow’s Parties is gonna ask them to reform and play “Dude Ranch” in it’s entirety! The blow the art community would suffer from the lose of just one member of Blink 182 would huge! So with that in his mind, Guitarist/douchebag Tom DeLonge had this to say about the new Blink 182 song (they’re making a new song, by the way):

“It’s got a little bit of (Pink) Floyd, a little bit of Rush, a little bit of Blink in there. It’s crazy, but it somehow sounds exactly like where we left off (in 2005). It’s an amazing song.”

Yeah, it’s funny you mention Pink Floyd, Tom, because I was just listening to “Dark Side Of The Moon” last night and couldn’t help but notice all the striking similarities it had to “Take Off Your Pants And Jacket” (though the Blink record syncs up a lot better to “Two Girls One Cup” than The Wizard of Oz). I even had to stop and make sure I put the right CD in. Yeah, we still have cds. Seriously though, there’s not a drug that powerful in the world that could make Blink 182 even vaguely resemble Pink Floyd. Trust us, we’ve tried em. Syd Barrett would be spinning in his grave right now if he weren’t still tripping his face off. Roger’s still alive though, and I’m pretty sure he could beat the shit out of you even though he’s probably in his 80s by now. As for the Rush comparison, well, we already know you sing like a six year old girl, so no surprise there. To be fair, though, I have been taking your words out of context. You know, the context of your head being stuffed all the way up your own colon, as you clearly demonstrate in this video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WB2YLPhceSM&feature=player_embedded

So Courtney Love is “getting Hole back together”. Cept she’s the only original member. Yeah, that’s right, no Eric Erlandson. Some poser named Micko Larkin is playing guitar. Yeah, you got it… basically Courtney Love took ANOTHER idea from Bill Corgan and pulled a Smashing Pumpkin. You sly fox you Courtney. First you get the guy to have sex with you (somehow), then your husband blows his brains out cuz he finds out you’re fucking a weird bald dude, then you get Billy to write your songs for you and now yer cherry pickin’ his “reform the band people liked from the 90s even though the other members fuckin’ hate me” idea. Everyone’s totally gonna fall for that one! Yeah, so now Courtney’s new record “Nobody’s Daughter” is gonna be the fourth Hole LP. Eric, let’s grab some beers dude.. call us. For the record, as much as I don’t wanna admit that Courtney Love news amuses me, whenever she opens her mouth I can’t help but perk up my ears and wait for the explosion! Yeah, I know it’s bad. She’s a really bad person that killed Kurt Cobain one way or another. Her diarrhetic borderline retarded self indulgent rants makes my skin crawl. But as much as I don’t want to admit it, when it comes down to it Courtney is just that car wreck on the side of the 101 to me. No matter what you’re gonna rubberneck the tangled mess of metal and glass. Check out what diarrhea of the mouth sounds like here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SrVp7hQ18qc&feature=player_embedded

Remaining on the subject of ladies: ever noticed that when a group of girls pick up instruments and play anything besides pop or some Lilith Faire shit the indie rock press starts furiously jerking off and awarding gold medals like it was the Special Olympics? Well, one band that needs to start thinking of a thank you speech for receiving this musical affirmative action is the consortium of bleeders known as The Vivian Girls. What a treat that band is! Boring songwriting, terrible instrument performances, calculated “lo-fi” recording, shitty vocals hidden under a pile of reverb AND duds that look like hand-me-downs from “Ugly Betty”? Hot Dog! If it looks like shit and sounds like shit it must be good, right? Oh, and it’s all girls? Well, then it must be genius! Actually, we bet if you added a penis or two into the equation, the P-dork rating of this band wouldn’t stay up at 9.015437791AB- or whatever it is now. If we’re gonna keep having to hear about these chicks, can we at least request that the drummer starts hitting the drums a little harder than the Haagen Daaz? Don’t get us wrong, Buddyhead loves the ladies, we just don’t give passes to shitty bands no matter what’s lurking in their jeans.

Paige Hamilton wants to show you how to tune it to Drop D and play a whole song with your index finger. You heard that right, get out Dad’s Discover Card http://www.roadrunnerrecords.com/blabbermouth.Net/news.aspx?mode=Article&newsitemID=122177


Someone…ANYONE in the vicinity of Tom Morello, please do the following: 1) slap him really hard across the face, repeatedly – don’t be afraid to work in that back hand either; 2) tie him down to a chair and make him listen to his last 3 musical projects on repeat for a week; and, assuming he even survives #2, 3) make him go house to house throughout the country and apologize for the last decade or so of his life. Yeah, Tommy we saw you on the NINJA Tour with that Chimney Sweeper’s Gentlemen’s Club rap metal band, and by our count, that’s 3 strikes. Actually, let’s be honest, you were tagged out the SECOND that very first Audioslave song leaked out of the Port-a-Potty, so I guess now we’re trying to find out just how many more nails you can possibly put in your coffin? Seriously dude, we needed ANOTHER rap metal band from you about as much as we need someone to invent barbed wired condoms. By the by, where did you find that backing band? Was Avril Lanvinge having a back-up musician sale? Look, we’ll give you this: in 1991 you were in a mostly minority band, playing rap and metal together when the PMRC had a Fatwa out against both genres (and before they became the lamest musical combo ever), with a singer shouting at the LAPD “fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me” in Rodney King-era Los Angeles. Rage rebelled in a time and place where it was actually dangerous to do so. 20 years later you’re just a rich dude beating a series of dead horses. Retire. 10 years ago.

Cash Grab of the Week: The Artist Formerly Known as Stupid Fucking Asshole

The early years of Spike Anderson were sweet. By the time I got to third grade I was living large: I had all the underaged women I could stand, a pile of Capri-Sun empties that I fashioned into crackpipes during gym class, a clean sheet of priors, barely any STDs, and a brand new liver to abuse. I wasn't the STD-riddled coke addict we all know and love yet, but I was -- wait, what was I talking about? Oh yeah, Prince.

Anyway, Prince was a big figure for me during the 80's. He taught me that you could be a gay man and still have sex with women. Also, that you can just declare yourself a sex symbol even though you have a mustache that makes you look like a convicted rapist and you're a Jehovah's fucking Witness. How did Prince reconcile his constant sex with his religion? Simple. He beat Miles Davis in the race see who can develop a bigger coke habit and now it's a miracle if he can even remember how to tie his own purple sequined cape, let alone remember all the meaningless laws of his coke-fuelled religious beliefs.

Not even that fat guy who made Jersey Girl can explain his insanity:



It was pretty simple to make pop music in the 1980's: all you needed was a synthesizer, a tape recorder, and a complete lack of taste or subtlety. Someone found the only black guy in Minnesota who had all those things and got him a record deal. Ever since then we've had to listen to shit like "Raspberry Beret" on the radio and just deal with it. And even when he didn't fuck up, he still fucked up: the only decent thing Prince ever did was piss off Al Gore's wife with "Darling Nikki", but that just led to putting parental advisory stickers on shitty John "Cougar" Mellencamp records and giving Ice-T an acting career.

Here's an idea: write a bunch of songs and get really famous. Then when you're at the peak of your fame, convert to a religion that believes that blood transfusions are sinful, the space shuttle is an abomination of god, and that God hangs out in the Pleiades system where we'll all go to live when we die. This way you'll be sure to alienate millions of your fans and squader away everything you spent your life building. Way to go.

The Spike Anderson Guide to Breaking Down and Just Hiring a Hooker

So you're unlucky with the women? And you listen to Jethro Tull records all day, paint model airplanes, and then secretly huff the airplane glue when your mom goes to goes shopping? Want to steal a bit of the Spike Anderson charm that's worked so well on legions of hookers, valley trash, and that one lazy-eyed concert promoter I met at the Smell that one time? Well get fucked! Do I look like I care? No. I. fucking. don't.

...except that it's been brought to my attention that the Billy Corgan-looking fuck who wrote the life story of Vince Neil's coke habit wrote a dating advice book and made a boatload of cash, so I figured I should take my own coke-fuelled shot at it.
that Billy Corgan-looking fuck


Here's a sneak preview:
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Chapter 1 - So you play in a band that everyone hates called Lloyd London

You know sometimes I miss the good old days of tripping the person you like, or running over their cat and blaming that guy they were hitting on at the gym. Not that I ever would. I love animals! I'd just run over the douchebag from the gym. Not that I ever would. I'd pay some trucker a couple of uppers to run him over. Classy.

People seem to have a really hard time starting conversations with strangers. Girls think guys should do it, but all men are really bad at it. It's mass hysteria. It's like a fucking conspiracy or something, jesus! Anyway, there are so many creative ways to start one, none of which involve mentioning your half-way decent keyboard chops or your ability to clear out a venue in record time. I have many, some I will share, the rest I will save for when I feel like boning your mom.

1. You say, "Hey it was good to meet you last week, It's good to see you around again." This is always followed by her "who the fuck are you?" so you shoot back "...yup, still a bitch" I guess this conversation probably won't go anywhere but hey, can't save them all, Hasslehoff.

2. Don't buy her a drink and say it's from you. Buy her a drink and tell the waiter to mention it's from the ugliest guy in the bar sitting in the corner leering at all the women. They will most definitely make eye contact with him, out of morbid curiosity. He will see this, he will pounce, you will save. Sex will ensue so you better save up for those child support payments.

3. Go to the bar with a mustache, pay a girl a compliment and ask her if she likes your mustache. She will probably say no. That's when you shave the thing off in the bathroom. Come back out and she'll be speechless. Or she'll taser you in the balls.

4. How about maybe grow some balls, walk up, say hi. Offer your name, or your friends name...just don't forget to use the roofies. Also, Don't touch her boob, don't look at her boobs. I know, it's like the sun, how can something that spectacular NOT be stared at? But you can't. You will burn your eyes out. Speaking of burning, try not to mention that you have syphillis.
----------------

I have more wisdoms to fill your tiny lizard brains with, but if I tell all of them half the women I've porked in Vallejo last year will recognize me and try the old child support cash grab...or as I like to call it, the Lake Elsinore Shuffle.

Spikester's Sunday Matinee

Business Plan Stage 3, Part II - The Aftermath

Gather around and listen, fuckos. I have a story to tell.

As you might imagine, I black out a lot from the crack/uppers/Thunderbird wine I pound constantly. It's a high price to pay for being the greatest manager in the history of your fucking life, but it gets the job done and so do I.

So when I finally came to in the library's book return I found out that while I was high on special K and my own sense of superiority, I placed an ad on Craigslist.
My house

Shit bands have been flooding my email inbox ever since, so I feel like I need to do a public service and tell them to fucking go home and never touch another guitar again.

================================
From: foulballrecords@netzero.net (foulballrecords@netzero.net)
Subject: I ND A MANAGER‏

WHAT IT DO TTHIS YA BOY KARIMINALwitSTYLE I SAW YA AD ON CRAIGSLIST I GOT MY SHIT TOGHETEHER JUS ND SM REPRESENTATION YA KNO I GOT A MYSPACE IT AINT GREAT N SHIT YET BUT I GOT A SINGLE ON THERE I RELEASED LAST YEAR IM TRYN TO BLOW IT UP HOLLA AND IM DOIN SHOWZ BUT IND TO GIT PAID CONTACT 323 802-5473 KARIMINAL

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Spike sez: "FINALLY I MEET SUM1 WHO ENJOYZ THA TAYSTE OF METH MORE THEN I DU. HOLLA."
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From: joe VALDIVIESO (choppersforlife@msn.com)
Subject: THE GENERATOR

WWW.MYSPACE.COM/THEGENERATOR1

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Spike sez: "Sorry, I only go to Ventura for VD and pharmaceutical grade elephant tranquilizer. Also, I think I detected a Fernandes Starter Pack...dump that shit and buy a real guitar.Come back when you have a drug problem. Capiche?!"
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From: JONNY EP (jonnyepradio@gmail.com)
Subject: Manage ECHOrobot?

Want to manage us? Check us out at myspace.com/ECHOrobot. Thank you for your time!
Jonny Perez

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Spike sez: "Fuck Yeah, now this shit is the real thing. Loved the song about washing your hands with Andrew Jackson and the shit coming from hookers mouths. Now go grab the master tapes, mix the tracks down real low, slap it on a CDr and give me all your monkey dust!"
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From: DUCHETTA@aol.com
Subject: Need a Manager? Tired of Playing Shows to an Empty Room? (The Bathroom of the R‏

http://losangeles.craigslist.org/lac/muc/1583693520.html
I play Latin/Jazz any ''room'' for us?... or?? Please let me know .Thanks (no rock)

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Spike sez: "No comprendo espanish si no me manejas al Dario's PCP labratorio, no puedo buscar por un Mariachi acid jazz bar. No rock? You fuck!"
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From: Evita Carrasco (evitalc31@sbcglobal.net)
Subject: RE:Need a Manager? Tired of Playing Shows to an Empty Room? (The Bathroom of the Red Rock on Sunset)‏

Is this a real ad??? If it is please go to www.myspace.com/evitafreaks

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Spike sez: "As real as any ad from a guy who claims to live in the bathroom of the Red Rock on Sunset. BTW your band belong to eunuch. Fuck you!"
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From: Magen Melancholy (magenmelancholy@gmail.com)
Subject: RE:Need a Manager? Tired of Playing Shows to an Empty Room?

Hello,

Though I could really use a manager I am inquiring for my friend. He’s an INCREDIBLY talented artist however, music is about the only thing he’s good for. He lacks complete motivation to do much of anything; even play guitar. He also lacks the knowledge and skill. I don’t blame him cos’ all he should really focus on is his music, which is why I have started searching for some options. He’s unmanageable. But so insanely talented I cant bear to see this amazing music go unheard. HELP.



From: Magen Melancholy (magenmelancholy@gmail.com)
Subject: Ooops

It sounds like I said he lacks the knowledge and skill of playing guitar. That’s not true. I meant to say that’s about the only thing hes good at. Anything else? Useless. I’d say he’s like a modern day Bob Dylan with some crunk punk in the mix.


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Spike sez: "It sounds like you said he lacks the knowledge to quit dicking around and get a job scrubbing toilets at the Pizza Hut in El Segundo. I'd say he's like a modern day G.G. Allin except without the fans, personality, rap sheet, or obsession with feces. If the only thing he's good at is something you describe as "crunk punk", you might as well hand him the box cutter and My Chemical Romance albums to inspire him to bleed out in kiddie pool on his front lawn. Goodbye cruel world, hello giant pile of Columbia's finest in the sky.
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Business Plan Stage 3 - Trolling Casual Encounters Self-Promoting on Craigslist

When I was passed out beneath the sink in the bathroom of the Red Rock last night I had a moment of coke-fueled clarity: The Business Plan hasn't exactly worked the way I thought it would. I was kicked off of that dating website, my hashish supply is looking thin, and there's a burly Armenian man in a dress who follows me around everywhere I go now. So I'm swallowing my pride, 14 blotter sheets of brown acid, and a mixed handful of bennies, Estrogen pills stolen from a purse I found in the parking lot of Rite-Aid, and some Extenze for good measure: it's time to ply my services on Craigslist.

From: http://losangeles.craigslist.org/lac/muc/1583693520.html
Posting section: Musicians
Title: Need a Manager? Tired of Playing Shows to an Empty Room?

Well get used to it, Low vs. Diamond. No one wants to hear 4 Silverlake scenesters riding a wood glue high playing one chord over and over and screaming about their sister's dwindling supply of Plan B and jenkem. That's right, jenkem. Otherwise known as "butt hash" if you're a 43 year old Fox News reporter reading some shit off a teleprompter and pretending not to be hung over from last night's Tijuana Mud relapse:


Does this sound familiar: "Spike, no one shows up to my shows at 6:30 PM on Monday night at my mom's Book Club meeting." Ah, it's a problem as old as time. It might get you thinking that maybe a career change is in order. Maybe something involving service to the greater good instead of getting fucked up and scratching out lyrics about Coachella into your coke mirror? Nah fuck it, you say. Time to get into the real estate business and start stockpiling the Valtrex. And hey, why not just hire someone to lure junkies to our shitty webcast acoustic shows and take a modest 86.5% cut?

Cut to me, Spike Anderson. Professional Hosebag Merchant, Powerslop founder, and Salesman of the Nose Candy. Every NoHo washout's wet dream, every concert promoter's worst nightmare, every LA vice cop's most familiar scag'd out face, every tranny hooker's favorite neo-retro grindcore scene representative and amyl soaked zig-zag purveyor.

You want to know what I'm about? Fuck you, pay me! Rule Numero Uno is "I don't do dick until I see some cold hard cash". And listen here Ziggy Stardust, you and your drag queen buddies from Echo Park ain't gonna make it two gigs in this scene without some kind of manager/meth wrangler. If you're interested, and you better fucking be, go to spikeanderson.blogspot.com

If you're still trying to figure it all out, there's no hope for you. Better sell your kidneys to pay off your student loans because your bank account ain't gettin' any fatter from the zero people buying tickets to your acoustic gig at Bob's Waffle House, scum.

A Day in the Life of Spike Anderson: The Photos