From ash@mailbox.neosoft.com Fri Sep 27 19:31:00 1996

Date: Fri, 27 Sep 1996 14:17:05 -0500 (CDT)

From: "Evan R. Jones" 

To: pasha90@wolfenet.com

Subject: Dave Riley Interview



        OK, here it is....



        My hand hurts almost as bad as my back.



        Evan



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Intro by Shane Williams

If you'll read the column of mine elsewhere in this issue you'll find that

someone I know committed suicide - again - which is why it was a relief to

hear that Mr. Dave Riley was struck down in his prime not by his own hand,

but by nature - and even better to hear is that he is well on the way to

recovery! What follows ought to bring you up-to-date on his life and times

since Big Black broke up - and a bonus is included - the sidebar [NOTE:

found in contributions section] is an excerpt from a book he is working on -

seemingly a little reminiscent of Stewart Home but without quite the same

over-the-top level of explicit violence and probably not as much

homo-eroticism at all - once again, as with all the interviews I do under

the constraints of exchanging text by snail mail - there are some areas I

would have had him elaborate on and some sore spots I probably would've

jabbed to elicit even more of his bitterness and/or

cynicism. As it is there is still a significant amount of meat on this slim

skeleton - so tie on the feedbag you cannibal you.



Interview by Shane Williams

Shane: Why did Big Black decide to call it a day when they did?

Dave: Because Santiago Durango decided to go to law school and we saw an

oppurtunity to orchestrate our termination. We didn't fight the situation or

feel any remorse because we thought it better to quit while we were ahead

rather than stagnate and become boring and crappy like so many other bands.

Shane: What happened with Bull? Was this something you were fully into or

merely a passing fancy?

Dave: Mike Meadows (Bull's drummer) is, without a doubt, the most evil,

self-serving, annoying, and ignorant asshole that I've ever had the

misfortune of encountering. Associating with him is, at best, like cutting

your fingernails too short. This isn't just some piddly schoolyard fued or a

personal vendetta - many people will corroborate my observations. I was

never completely interested in Bull, and consider the seven inch merely decent.

Shane: How and why did you come to make an attempt on you own life, or is

that an inaccurate statement?

Dave: That statement is patent bullshit. Here's the deal: in late April of

1993 I had a stroke. A couple of my relatively distant cousins on my

mother's side had early strokes, but it was thought to be impossible for my

mother's offspring to be born with this physical predisposition, so it was

never even a remote concern. I was in a coma for approximately one month and

my condition was wrongfully diagnosed as the consequence of a failed suicide

attempt. (If I'd been found in a condominium on the Gold Coast instead of in

a loft in Wicker Park, I suspect that the powers-that-be probably would've

taken more care in diagnosing me - but that's another mess o' smelt.) When I

came out of the coma, I was told this attempted suicide nonsense and I

believed it. As I became more oriented, I thought, "Wait just a goddamned

minute! That's not the case at all!" But I literally couldn't talk or move

and the "care-givers" assumed that my brain was severly damaged. Why? #1.

Because most doctors and nurses are FUCKING STUPID. #2. Because of the

impression I must've given to the simpletons who were there because as high

school students in substandard districts, they'd stood in front of mirrors

and chanted "I AM somebody!", thinking that this behavior alone would give

them lives. #3. Because most doctors and nurses are FUCKING STUPID.

	I was initially treated with extreme shabbiness until I became strong

enough to convincingly tell any worthless idiot who bothered me to go and

fuck himself. To this day, I'm patronized as though I was a retarted child

by ninety-eight percent of the nickel-an-hour lackeys who are employed here

because they lacked the mental balls to get jobs working behind the counter

in conveinance stores, are meeting a condition of their parole agreements,

or both.

	"Here" is a place known as The Atrium Health Care Center, which is a

storage facility for piss-smelling elderly people without all of their

nuerons firing with whom nobody wants to bother, and for sundry cripples and

retards. I use a wheelchair (although at the rate things are going, I'll

soon be able to burn that pain in my ass), speak slowly and haltingly (but

fortunately not like stroke victims who sounds like they have a ten pound

salami in their mouth when they talk), and lack agility in my muscles

(especially in the right side of my body). One doctor confided (off the

record and behind closed doors) that it was a gross mistake for the jerks

who originally diagnosed me to assume that I had tried to off myself and

fucked it up. But virtually all of the people with whom I deal on a daily

basis (from arrogant hack doctors and their shamelessly ass-kissing nurses,

to obsequious drones who fetch medications, shuffle papers, or mop floors)

refuse to believe that an error was made, presumably out of a pathetic need

to believe in the infallibity of the American medical system and of those

incompetent meglomanical charlatans who laughably refer to themselves as

physicians. I feel pure and justifiable contempt for the clueless

mouth-breathing scum who propagated any "botched suicide" rumors. Such

pathetic snot-nosed failures should French kiss my anus on their way to hell.

Shane: What are your plans for the immediate future?

Dave: Since I'm not overwhelmingly physically dexterious at the moment, I'm

writing a novel entitiled Blurry and Mis-connected. I'm always composing

music, and when I leave here (I hope the administrator has taken my advice

and planted rose bushes in front of the building so I'll have something to

piss on as I saunter out), I plan on recording and assembling material for a

cassete. There are many virtues in using this medium, not the least of which

is that with a cassete you can record over any noise that you deem substandard.

Shane: Your former bandmate was qouted in a relatively recent interview as

saying that the line-up of Rapeman was much harder to work with than Big

Black -  how was the working relationship in Big Black vis-a-vis songwriting?

Dave: Very rarely was anything verbalized. Somebody would have an idea for a

song, and each person was aware of their function within the band. As a

result of this awareness, we were able to successfully function as a unit.

In addition, we all had similiar views of the world and comparable sets of

notions concerning aesthetics.

Shane: Have you done much production work? How is your technique different

than/similar to Albini's?

Dave: I've been involved in many audio endeavours in several different

capacities before, during, and after my involvement with Big Black. Most of

them have been worthwhile; others have been wastes of time. The only project

that I feel genuinely produced resulted in Ward, an EP by End Result. I lent

my ear to the first album by Rights of the Accused (I think they finally

named it Dillinger's Aller), and to the self-titled cassette by The

Watchmen. I've never really thought about my production technique (Christ,

that sounds pompous), much less have I compared my M.O. to anybody else's.

Suffice to my acknowledgement: when Albini has a good idea, it's usually

brilliant; when he has a bad idea, it's usually embarrissingly ill-founded.

Shane: Did you ever resent his high profile in the fanzine world as a

journalist, or do you think that this benefited the band over all?

Dave: One of the many traits in most humans that I unconditionally loathe is

the perverse need to kiss ass, whether that ass is attached to a man-made

deity, or an ultimately inconsequential (although talented and decent) guy

like Steve Albini.

Shane: What bands out there today do you listen to a lot? Was the Bull

connection indicative of a love for instrumental music?

Dave: The last thing I listened to before writing this was Mile After Mile

by The Big City Orchestra - but the answers to questions like this are

usually limited and deceiving. I like most music except for western fusion,

so-called light jazz, and Polka or love ballads that utilize a Fender

Rhhodes electric piano. Bull was indicative of a questionable decision on my

part. I've always thought of most lyrics as tits on a boxcar and akin to

poetry. That is, in my opinion the majority of song lyrics are useless and

for imbeciles. When I've written songs for bands in which I've played,

they've usually been composed to accommodate words. The material I'm writing

now has no lyrics because I have absolutely zero interest in meshing words

with music. Once, a wide-eyed writer for some xeroxed music fanzine asked

Albini (who wrote the vast majority of the words for Big Black songs) about

the "brutality" of the lyrics. The kid prattled on and on about "the seamy

underside of America" and such. Albini stifled a guffaw and interrupted the

painfully naive lad by declaring, "I only write lyrics so that I have an

excuse to scream into a microphone." He meant it. And I agree that nearly

all lyrics are disposable. By the way, is it just my imagination, or did

Shellac steal their songs from Mac Davis.	

Shane: How was the Touch and Go thing? What are your thoughts about the

majors adn their encroachment into the underground? How do you feel about

the commoditization of the underground?

Dave: At the time Big Black was together, Corey Rusk (Touch and Go Grand

Poobah) and Lisa Rusk lived together, and I always enjoyed hanging out with

them socially (barbecues, etc.), both individually and as a couple. I've

never known Corey to be anything but an honest, fair, and knowledgeable

businessperson. In fact, in my experiences with him, the line between

business dealings and personal favors was often blurred in a positive,

responsible manner. As far as my thoughts about major labels are concerned,

I don't understand why people scramble to become part of a vile, oppressive,

and bumbling system. Participation, even if it's of on one's own terms, is

still participation. And as Raoul Vaneigem pointed out, pissing on an alter

is still a way of paying homage to religion. If I were a sixteen-year-old

gum-snapping brat with dyed hair who didn't know any better, I might be

impressed by, say, a band like Green Day. But I'm not, so I'm not.

Shane: Do you think "punk rock" is inherently "criminalistic" - atagonistic

towards authority? Which of those terms do you have more of a problem with -

"crime" or "punk"?

Dave: Of course punk rock is inherently antagonistic towards authority. May

I ask what planet you're from? I have no trouble with points of reference,

but I despise labels.

Shane: Do you think there is an actual Generation X with unique

characteristics? By that I mean do you find the youth of today operating on

premises that seem strange to you?

Dave: I find "Generation X" a thoroughly stupid and hollow mass media label,

much like the label "alternative." A dolt is a dolt, and jerking off out of

a porthole is jerking off out of a porthole. I have no faith in the youth of

today. Then again, I have no faith in anybody, regardless of their age.

Shane: Where do you stand on the Jello Biafra/Tim Yohannon feud? And do you

still read John Crawford comics when you see them?

Dave: I wasn't even aware that there was a feud. Was I supposed to know? I'm

sure they're nice guys and their mothers love them and all those things, but

they can disembowel one another for all I care.

	Thinking of icons of a dead subculture prompts me to reminisce thusly; When

I was about fourteen years of age, I read a description in Creem magazine of

David Bowie and Lou Reed fist-fighting. The spectacle was likened to a

couple of old ladies picking lint off each other's sweaters. This has

nothing to do with the question; I just thought it was funny. I've never

found John Crawford's comics particularly amusing.

Shane: Who is sexier - the girls of the Lunachicks or Miss USA contestants -

and why?

Dave: I've never met or seen the woman from the Lunachicks, but I strongly

suspect that I'd find them infinetly more sexually attractive than Miss USA

Pageant contestants. If my tastes in this situation aren't immediately

understood, no amount of explanation will make them any more understandable.



                                    

                              Maturing, or evolution?      

                      "L Dopa fix me............... alright?"

                            Evan Jones: Ash@neosoft.com