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The Fleshies.

THIS ARTICLE HAS BEEN a long time in the making. Seriously, The Fleshies have been on my to-do list for two years or more--I got sick of writing about music and bands and just never got around to doing it. It's a shame too, because the Fleshies deserve all the press they get. Listening to a mix tape tonight, I heard a Fleshies song and got inspired. I guess the old saying "better late than never" would apply here.--Andy Harris

The Fleshies are the kind of band that befits a riotous house party in the middle of a sorry-ass ghetto. They're loud, messy, and obnoxious when they play, but they're perfect gentlemen out on the porch after the set. Definitely a good enough rock band to play actual shows in clubs, but I've only seen 'em in houses. Fuck that, I've only seen them in one house here in San Pedro, twice. Both times they ranted, raved, stomped, and flailed. Clothes came off swiftly, thrown all haphazard into the crowd. Somebody got hit with a guitar. Beer flying all over the fucking place, watch the camera ...

I'm the proud owner of a few of their vinyl music discs. One of them's white and has a bird on it. It's called Kill the Dreamer's Dream. There's this band in San Pedro called "Killer Dreamer" and I'm sure this album is where they got their name. They love the Fleshies. There's this song on that white album with the bird called South Miami--an anthem dedicated to the joys and horrors of touring the land in a van. You must hear this song. It'll make you want to drop everything and hit the road.

The other big album is newer and it's got a red cover. It's called "The Sicilian." Another blast of wild insanity bullshit in a good way. I need to listen to it more just because. The song I can think of right now is called, "The Last Friday." I don't know the lyrics but it does say something about the shit hitting the fan. I really like that saying, but that's not the sole reason I like the song.

The singer goes by the name John Geek. I don't know any of the other dudes' code names, or their real names for that matter. That shit doesn't matter any way, it's the Fleshies as a whole that matter. However, Mr. Geek does look a lot like Emilio Estevez, and that's a cold hard fact.

I think the Fleshies are from Oakland, but could it be Berkeley? The two albums I mentioned are on Biafra's label; you know, the Alternative Tentacles. They've got more stuff out too, but I don't know the names of 'em. One's a ten-inch that looks like a soccer ball. Whoa! I just found it in my records a second ago. It's called, The Game of Futbol. Ahh yes, that explains it!

OK, all this talk of records is getting away from the main point. The Fleshies can wreck a house with their music and mayhem. It's the live, in-your-face quality that really sets them apart. You tan buy all their records (and I strongly recommend it), get drunk and stoned listening to them (that too, is recommended), and then destroy some property with your friends (go ahead, do it!), but it ain't gonna top the energy and shenanigans of the Flesh-dogs playing in your living room. Look 'em up on the web, Fleshies.net, and find out when they're touring your village, township, or hamlet Invite them over and allow them to rock. Most certainly you will be glad you did.

Writing about the Fleshies got me thinking about shows I've seen at houses. They're always better than shows at clubs. The following is just a little run-down of the kind of things that make the house show the shit:

--Everyone's wasted! There's no bartender checking IDs, no bouncer at the door

--The band's not the only ones playing! Some random always manages to find some bongos or tome shit to bang along with the band

--Something always gets broke! A window, a chair, the toilet, someone's arm ... The caution factor just seems to take a nosedive in the comfort of hearth and home

--There's other shit to do besides listen to the band. Backyard ramp sessions, movies, make-out parties, and BBQs are fine examples of fun to be had

--The neighbors can join in! Sure, some of your square types might call out the black and whites in hopes of shutting it all down, but the fun-loving ones are in for a treat. Drunken old men stumbling home from the bar, little kids on Razor scooters, homeless women, babies ... you see it all at the house show

THIS BAND LOOKS COOL when they walk down the street, and they play harder and louder than your band. They have a crappy name but at least they didn't de a play on words like "Tommy La Sort Of." One guy drinks beer and the other apple juice--two dudes switching off guitar and drumming duties. This band needs a record contract. This interview is mostly with the half of the band named Mike.--Alan Velasco

Are you in a real band?

No, we only play in living rooms.

What are your names?

My name's Mike and his name's Adam.

Are you guys related?

No, but Steve List thinks we are I dropped off my rent once and he was like, "Is that for you and your brother?"

Why come you guys don't have T-shirts?

Because we're lazy. We have an idea for shirts but we don't have the ...

Want to tell me about your dream shirt?

I want the long baseball type shirts You know, mid sleeve and in cursive it says Tummy Lasorda on the front. Just nice and elegant.

I get it. Because he's a baseball guy so you get the baseball shirt. Why is that your name?

I don't know, you're going to have to ask Adam about that. I think it's because he's the grossest human being on the planet.

Even grosser than Osama Bin Laden?

Osama doesn't have the ring that Tommy does.

It doesn't sound as good when you hear it on the radio. Do you want to write radio hits?

I'm trying, I'm trying my best.

What's the dumbest thing said about your hair?

In Sad Diego, "Man, your hair's so 10-years-ago." What? It's like 30 or 40 years ago! Yo, at the Pearl Jam show everyone was rocking the afro.

Adam, where did you gel that crazy name?

Adam: Have you ever seen that commercial where Tommy Lasorda comes out of a suitcase He's so skinny. He's like. "Oh, I'm a piece of carry-on luggage, take me to your next show."

Why's your hair smaller than the other guy's?

It would've been longer at this point We had a deal going, but sometimes a hair cut is like a rebirth.

He can't have a real job, net with hair like that.

He did actually and they let him have that hair He just ... One time we had a showdown. I wanted to stay up as long as possible with only the aid of Mountain Dew. No drugs, just good fun. After about two-and-a half days we found ourselves in the middle of the forest eating ice cream cones and then he said, 'I want to go home and sleep." I'm still mad about that. So now I think this is his latest revenge. Three years later he rocks an afro.

Send them three bucks for a 7" and be the cool kid with the new jams: 2846 Chapman street Oakland CA, 94601 USA
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Author:Velasco, Alan
Publication:Thrasher
Date:Oct 1, 2003
Words:1285
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