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Eye on the Scene

Fester Bangs Tees Off

It's been a while since we've caught up with those mopes in Superdrag. Oh, say, a good two or three issues at least. You remember them, I'm sooooo sure—those four (or three, or 12, or however many losers they have on stage this month) Fort Sanders slackers who made a few whiny (but catchy, I guess) indie-pop singles some years back, and then whored out their souls to the scum-dogs at Elektra Records for a handful of gummy worms and a bag of weed. Oh, sure, what big MTV-video stars they were—for how long? Five or six minutes at least. Before someone in the band pissed on the floor in the executive washroom at Elektra, and hacked off some corporate weasel, and then were subsequently buried under various shithole labelmates who kissed more weasel ass than they did, talentless f____ like Nada Suck, er Surf, and Turd Eye Blind...

It makes my piles flare up just thinking about it. But don't assume I'm sympathizing with you, just because I'm not cutting Superdrag a break. That's right, I'm talking about you, the f___ reading this magazine right now. You're standing there with your mouth open, and drool on your chin, looking like you couldn't find your ass with both hands, and you're thinking. You're whining, inwardly, you're bitching to yourself (because no one else will listen to you), "Why are they writing about them again?? I'm tired of reading about Superdrag!! They must be blowing someone over there at Metro Pulse!"

Admit it; that's what you're thinking, isn't it? And you're probably in a band, too, or else your mama's in a band, or your cousin, or your sister, or your loser best friend or some other asshole you know, and you're sniveling, "Why don't you write about ______ (fill in the blank with the name of the shitty local band of your choice) for a change?" Well, shut your piehole. And f___ you. Because this paragon of musical excellence you'd rather we write about instead of Superdrag has probably been around nearly three whole weeks now, and played all of two gigs—one of them at some high school stoner party, and the other in your granny's shithouse—and has written all of five songs, none of which are any good, and have never bothered to put that bong down long enough to do anything worthwhile that might, oh, say, actually get them noticed by someone, like putting out fliers and playing out at least semi-annually and recording some music and maybe writing some songs that don't absolutely SUCK....

Alright, I'm getting off track. The point I was getting to before you pissed me off is that those lame-asses in Superdrag are at work again, having just come off a tour in support of their last record In the Valley of the Dying Stars, on Arena Rock Recordings. So I called up my "good buddy" Don Coffey, Jr. (yeah, that's right, he's the drummer, the short one who's always drunk) and asked him what the hell his crappy band is doing nowadays.

Q (Fester): Why should we write any more about your stupid band?

A(Don): I don't know; it'll be something else for people to line their bird cages with. Now they won't have to mess up the sports page in the News-Sentinel.

Q: What are you doing now—touring, recording, punching the clown, what?

A: We just got home from a five-show tour with Cracker, and we're going out next and opening for this band called the Anniversary. They're an emo band on Vagrant records, and we're probably going to record a split-EP with them. They're young guys; we hadn't heard of them 'til we got the call.

Q: They sound like punks to me. Why the f___ are you opening for these nobodies?

A: What else are we gonna do? Sit around on our asses in Knoxville? We're going to steal their fan-base, of course.

Q: You guys played here in Knoxville recently, at the TVA and I Fair. Did you eat any funnel cakes?

A: No. Besides, they wouldn't let us into main part of the fair. We were too rowdy, or something.

Q: Playing the fair. That must've really sucked.

A: No, really. It was the highlight of my career.

Q: Have you decided how many f______ people are in your band yet?

A: We're playing as a four-piece right now. Mic Harrison (V-roys, the Faults) just went out with us on guitar, just to see how it would go. And it went great. He's there as long as he wants to do it.

Q: Alright, this is the burning question that both of your fans want to have answered. Are you going to get off your fat asses and record another record anytime soon?

A: Probably in November. It'll be on Arena Rock again. They're being bought by Ryko Disc, which means their distribution will be better than it ever has been before.

Q: What can we expect to hear on this record?

A: It won't be a big stretch from the last record. Although we may have a little of the epic-type stuff we did on Headtrip in Every Key (the band's second record on Elektra). It'll definitely be a rock record, though.

Q: In other words, pretty much the same old crap?

A: Yep. Ooops.

Emma here. Eyes more observant than mine noticed that I made a slight boo-boo in last week's column. Kidsnack's last stand on Friday, Oct. 5, will be at 319, which is at, appropriately enough, 319 Gay Street. It'll be an all-ages show and your last chance to get 'snacked, before John Sewell heads up to the Windy City to pursue his rock 'n' roll dreams.


Thursday: Knoxville Jazz All-star Review at The Platinum.

Friday: Alison Krauss at Tennessee Theatre, if you were lucky enough to score tickets. Or, check out the Knoxville Jazz Orchestra with Jami Rogers and Jack Neely at the Bijou.

Saturday: Newport with subbluecollar. Kat comes back?

Sunday: Gianni Schicchi and Pagliacci at Civic Auditorium. Knox Opera kicks off their season.

Monday: Channel at Cat's Music, Kingston Pike. Not my cup of tea but the kids'll dig this free show.

Tuesday: Check your pumpkins for frost.

Wednesday: Duane Jarvis and Randy Weeks at Barley's. Part of the WDVX "Behind the Barn" series.

—Emma "Cat Power" Poptart

October 4, 2001 * Vol. 11, No. 40
© 2001 Metro Pulse