An Interview With Educable Wires
"Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire."
—Thomas Gray
by poet and critic, Lew Icarus Bede
LIB: Why're you so effing bad at taking tests?
EW: I'm dumb.
LIB: No, really why?
EW: No, it is true. I don't know much.
I started school, when I was nine. But it took some
two years before I could get in to it. As such,
I'm basically stupid. Learning was hard for me.
LIB: But there must have been pleasant times for you?
EW: Oh, yeah. I got a Les Paul standard guitar, see...
[He shows off guitar.] for my birthday, true,
and after school I would go home and pound on it.
LIB: How old were you then?
EW: Around eleven or twelve.
And I was really happy till I played it. Shit,
I was so effing bad, I started a band—Elf.
LIB: What kind of music did you play?
EW: Thrashdeath grindcore.
LIB: Who was in your band when you started it?
EW: Only me.
Nobody wanted in.
LIB: Why?
EW: I was too hard core.
LIB: That must have been frustrating to you.
EW: Not really.
It gave me time to practice on my wires—strings
you probably call them—and on my vocal shrieks,
throat-shredding yells and barking-mad growlings.
Eventu'lly, when I was thirteen some tard geeks
showed up in my garage; and when we played we found
it was pure music to our ears, especially
the shortest songs.
LIB: What happened next?
EW: We'd scream and pound.
Our art improved, but lost some spontaneity.
We ended up with sawngs, and people wanted them...
to go away. [He laughs.] We got a drummer then,
who couldn't keep a beat; and we had to have him.
I think Drew Bile Sauce was the youngest at ten.
LIB: Ed, are you an obsessive player?
EW: I will say, hell, yes!
Sometimes I just can't let it go. The other guys
will pluck my guitar from my grip. I must confess,
Lew Reduce Bias is the worst. He's such a wimp.
LIB: I read somewhere he thinks you are a total jerk.
EW: He has a friggin' lisp, and screws with a damn limp.
LIB: I understand it's hard sometimes for you to work
together.
EW: It ain't easy working with retards.
You ought to try it some time, cream-faced loon [He laughs
insanely.].
LIB: Who're some of your favorite sawng stars?
EW: I do not really like the Jackass Jerk Giraffes;
they act like they are taller than everyone else...
LIB: They are.
EW: There's "Weird" Ace Blues and Cur A. Wildebees...
LIB: I thought you were more in to sound than lyric verse.
EW: and I think Beadle Crew USI's Sun's a beast.
LIB: Do you have any regrets, Ed?
EW: Why do you ask?
LIB: Just wondering.
EW: I wish I would have started school
at five, like any normal kid. I wish the flask
I have was bigger. I wish I could be as cool
as "Bad" Weslie Ecru. He is such a stud.
I wish I would have studied how to play these wires.
I wish I was as much an animal as Bud.
[Bud "Weasel" Rice, a nature poet]. He make fires
that are quite hard to put out of your mind. [He jeers.]
How far do you want me to go on this wish list?
LIB: That's good. Now that you're near the end of your teen years,
what's changing?
EW: I am getting wisdom...teeth. My fist
hurts more. My DID is getting worse—a lot.
I doubt the loyalty of other members and
I'm seriously thinking of—Don't tell the sot
or Lew—inviting other bangers to the band.
I mean it never was about the money, but
how long can one continue when no one responds?
LIB: You're getting interviews.
EW: Only losers, Tut.
LIB: And gigs?
EW: Not many. Maybe two or three.
LIB: And sawngs?
EW: I can't remember. Maybe one or two that none
are buying.
LIB: Why do you think this is so?
EW: Perhaps
because we are too avant garde or overrun
with idiocy. People can't take dense collapse
that makes you sick, or music filled with so much angst,
betrayal and bad sense.
LIB: What are your future plans?
EW: I'll just go on, a committed artist making sawngs.
"Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire."
—Thomas Gray
by poet and critic, Lew Icarus Bede
LIB: Why're you so effing bad at taking tests?
EW: I'm dumb.
LIB: No, really why?
EW: No, it is true. I don't know much.
I started school, when I was nine. But it took some
two years before I could get in to it. As such,
I'm basically stupid. Learning was hard for me.
LIB: But there must have been pleasant times for you?
EW: Oh, yeah. I got a Les Paul standard guitar, see...
[He shows off guitar.] for my birthday, true,
and after school I would go home and pound on it.
LIB: How old were you then?
EW: Around eleven or twelve.
And I was really happy till I played it. Shit,
I was so effing bad, I started a band—Elf.
LIB: What kind of music did you play?
EW: Thrashdeath grindcore.
LIB: Who was in your band when you started it?
EW: Only me.
Nobody wanted in.
LIB: Why?
EW: I was too hard core.
LIB: That must have been frustrating to you.
EW: Not really.
It gave me time to practice on my wires—strings
you probably call them—and on my vocal shrieks,
throat-shredding yells and barking-mad growlings.
Eventu'lly, when I was thirteen some tard geeks
showed up in my garage; and when we played we found
it was pure music to our ears, especially
the shortest songs.
LIB: What happened next?
EW: We'd scream and pound.
Our art improved, but lost some spontaneity.
We ended up with sawngs, and people wanted them...
to go away. [He laughs.] We got a drummer then,
who couldn't keep a beat; and we had to have him.
I think Drew Bile Sauce was the youngest at ten.
LIB: Ed, are you an obsessive player?
EW: I will say, hell, yes!
Sometimes I just can't let it go. The other guys
will pluck my guitar from my grip. I must confess,
Lew Reduce Bias is the worst. He's such a wimp.
LIB: I read somewhere he thinks you are a total jerk.
EW: He has a friggin' lisp, and screws with a damn limp.
LIB: I understand it's hard sometimes for you to work
together.
EW: It ain't easy working with retards.
You ought to try it some time, cream-faced loon [He laughs
insanely.].
LIB: Who're some of your favorite sawng stars?
EW: I do not really like the Jackass Jerk Giraffes;
they act like they are taller than everyone else...
LIB: They are.
EW: There's "Weird" Ace Blues and Cur A. Wildebees...
LIB: I thought you were more in to sound than lyric verse.
EW: and I think Beadle Crew USI's Sun's a beast.
LIB: Do you have any regrets, Ed?
EW: Why do you ask?
LIB: Just wondering.
EW: I wish I would have started school
at five, like any normal kid. I wish the flask
I have was bigger. I wish I could be as cool
as "Bad" Weslie Ecru. He is such a stud.
I wish I would have studied how to play these wires.
I wish I was as much an animal as Bud.
[Bud "Weasel" Rice, a nature poet]. He make fires
that are quite hard to put out of your mind. [He jeers.]
How far do you want me to go on this wish list?
LIB: That's good. Now that you're near the end of your teen years,
what's changing?
EW: I am getting wisdom...teeth. My fist
hurts more. My DID is getting worse—a lot.
I doubt the loyalty of other members and
I'm seriously thinking of—Don't tell the sot
or Lew—inviting other bangers to the band.
I mean it never was about the money, but
how long can one continue when no one responds?
LIB: You're getting interviews.
EW: Only losers, Tut.
LIB: And gigs?
EW: Not many. Maybe two or three.
LIB: And sawngs?
EW: I can't remember. Maybe one or two that none
are buying.
LIB: Why do you think this is so?
EW: Perhaps
because we are too avant garde or overrun
with idiocy. People can't take dense collapse
that makes you sick, or music filled with so much angst,
betrayal and bad sense.
LIB: What are your future plans?
EW: I'll just go on, a committed artist making sawngs.
