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			Issue Number 1: June 1995           
	       
		   COSMIC DEBRIS EZINE'S RESIDENT STAFFERS
	       
	       DJ Johnson.....................Editor/Publisher
	       Jim Andrews....................Ass Editor
	       Louise Johnson.................Politics
	       Cai Campbell...................Layout & Music  
	       Coleslaw.......................Resident Bohemian Artist
	       Scott Wedel....................Writer of fine Misc Stuff

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

			   TABLE OF CONTENTS
 
  * EDITORS NOTES - DJ explains it all.
  * INTERVIEW WITH THE REPROBATES - Alan Wright interviews a great band.  
  * THEY'RE KILLING JIMMY MONTGOMERY - The story of a medicinal marijuana 
	    user's prison nightmare. DJ Johnson reports.
  * AN EVENING OF THE MUSIC OF FRANK ZAPPA - Cai Campbell's review of Seattle
	    Symphony Orchestra's performance with some of Frank's friends.
  * THEY DID THE MONSTER MOSH - DJ Johnson relates what it's like to become a
	    human pinball when all you want to do is see a bleedin' concert!
  * REVIEWS - Several records reviewed by Alan Wright
  * URBANIA - James Andrews' column in which he explains the GOP mentality, 
	    baits the censors, and single handedly ends the OJ debate.            
  * ROSES ARE FUCKED - A pair of poems from opposite sides of the galaxy,
	    just to prove that we're all cultural and shit.
  * IN CLOSING - Stuff we didn't say before but figured we oughta.

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			    EDITOR'S NOTES
			
      Hello, and welcome to the first issue of COSMIC DEBRIS.  My name is DJ
 Johnson, and my qualifications for running an E-zine are as follows.  I love
 music, I care about politics and I have a computer.  Serious inquiries from
 mega-buck magazines who wish to employ me should be faxed.  I haven't got a 
 fax machine, but then that's probably a moot point, doncha think?  English
 is our second language here at the plush Cosmic Debris Office Compound. We
 don't have a first language as of yet, but we're open to suggestions.  This
 means, basically, that grammar and spelling sit just below "finishing our
 vegetables" on our priority list.  Don't let it bug ya.
      Cosmic Debris was designed as an outlet for writing about music, first
 and foremost, but there's another purpose as well.  Political awareness.
 There is a lot of strange stuff happening out there, and a lot of people are
 blowing trumpets and claiming that the people have finally spoken.  Not so.
 A huge percentage of people eligible to vote do not exercise that right.
 There are a ton of polls that have concluded that if these people had voted
 in the last election, the GOP landslide wouldn't have happened.  Newt might
 still be on the outside, writing his own Mein Kampf and throwing rocks at
 orphans.  Through these pages, we hope to get some of those non-voters pissed
 off enough to vote.  We start, this issue, by telling the story of Jimmy
 Montgomery, a medicinal marijuana user, who has been incarcerated and 
 tortured through medical neglect, to the point where his life is in danger.
 Several people were willing to talk on Jimmy's behalf, but I wasn't able to     
 find anyone to offer an opposing viewpoint.  The man who testified against
 him is in prison himself now, and the Governors office kept routing my calls
 to an answering machine.  So the story is written to the best of my ability
 with the information I had available to me.  The political content of Issue
 Number Two will be a major focal point, as we will be taking on the topic of
 censorship.  Our WWW site has links to politically important sites, as well.
      Our zine is named after a song by the late great Frank Zappa.  Mr. 
 Z was a very big influence on several of our staff members, myself included.
 In this issue, Cai Campbell reviews Seattle Symphony Orchestra's performance
 of several of Zappa's works.  Alan Wright brings us a stack of record reviews
 and a great interview of The Reprobates.  Assistant Editor James Andrews (Who
 for his very own sinister reasons prefers "Ass Editor" to "Asst. Editor") is 
 also a dangerous psychotic columnist, and his "Urbania" is your ticket to 
 the underside of all that you THINK is normal. J.C. Hendee and a character 
 known as cybr/\w/\spydr have submitted poems for our first issue.  We have
 an angry little piece about moshing that'll piss some people off, and have
 other people waving banners and writing us letters of support.  Louise 
 Johnson and Scott Wedel will be checking in with articles in the next issue.  
      So what have we got here...let's see...record reviews, punk interviews,
 political stuff, poetry...Yup, I'm pretty sure this isn't revolutionary 
 among zines on the internet.  "No focus/Cool stuff" isn't new either. What we
 do have is an interesting mix of people with an interesting mix of ideas.
 And we have computers!  

   DJ Johnson                                    
   Editor
----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Interview with THE REPROBATES
by Alan Wright
contact: head13@aol.com

   The Reprobates are from Timonium (close to Baltimore), Maryland.  They
play tight, hard-edged, but very melodious Punk Rock.  When their record
label, You Say When, sent me a copy of the Reprobates' 4-song 7" EP, the
accompanying note went something like "We wanted to wait until we had
something really obnoxious to send you, so we waited 'til the Reprobates EP
was out."  They couldn't have been more correct, for The Reprobates make for
some great obnoxious --but extremely catchy-- music.

   Cosmic Debris, upon hearing of my enthusiasm for these young punks, dealt
me the task of interviewing them, and so it was on one rainy Seattle Sunday
afternoon that this interview transpired, via the wonderful and always 
dependable long distance phone call.  All four Reprobates members were
present, and I, Alan Wright, asked the questions.
		       
		       * * * * *

Cosmic Debris: So, who do we have here?
Frank Ererra: I play bass.
Mike Draper: Singing, lead guitar and philosopher.
Billy Ropel: My name's Billy, and I guess I play the drums.
Jason Wicksell: I'm Jason and I play guitar.
CD: Well, I was going to start with the boring questions, like when you guys
first started and all that.
Frank: Me and Mike have known each other since we were kids, and we used to
jam and stuff, and then we met Jason and our first drummer who went to jail.
Mike: Our original drummer was a big crack addict, and he stared stealing
our equipment and then finally went to jail.
Billy: I put an ad in the paper, and they called me, so I went to see them
play when they had a replacement drummer, in like, 1992.  That would make
this line-up how old?
Mike: Two Years.
Jason: I saw Mike and Frank in a band four years ago called Tragic Drag.
Mike: That started in '89.
Jason: That was sort of New York Dolls shit, and I was totally impressed.  I
was like 16 at the time, and I kept pestering them to let me play guitar.
The original guitarist was from Louisiana, and they ended up kicking him out.
CD: Why did you call the band The Reprobates?
Jason: My old man used to call us a bunch of Reprobates.
Mike: It's got a sound to it, that's kind of like from the 50's.  It's not a
real modern word.
CD: So what is it about The Reprobates that makes you so unique?
Mike: I think it's because, at a glance, any given song might have an obvious
flavor of one time, but throughout the set I don't think we can be pinned
down anywhere.
Frank: We don't concentrate on a what a record or a show will sound like, we
concentrate on what a song will sound like.  We've written lots of great
songs, but we don't play 'em if they don't stand on their own compared to the
other songs.  When all of our songs are so diverse, it's hard to, um, I mean,
we have no problem writing songs.
Jason: We just do what we think sounds good.
CD: I guess I noticed from the EP, which is only four songs, that they're
four different sounding songs.
[everything becomes unintelligible here as all Reprobates begin talking at
once.]
Frank: Our idea was to put out some of our heaviest stuff on that.  I mean,
there's a whole slew of songs that are a lot more far out than those, but
still pretty raw.
Billy: They've all got the punk attitude.
Mike: We're a big "back ups" band, we do all the "shooby-doo-wops" and stuff.
Chicks dig that stuff.
Frank: When it's slightly out of tune and done with a bit of feedback, it
takes on a whole different sound.
CD: Sure.  Now, I think Jason mentioned to me when I talked to him before
that you draw a pretty female crowd, as opposed to other D.C. area bands.
Mike: Well, at least they look female!
Billy: We have a lot of them that don't just stand around, either.
Mike: They're doing weird dances and shit, too.
Billy: But [they are] the best looking chicks in town, I mean, we were a
Rock 'n' Roll band before we were more of a punk rock band, and a lot of the
clubs we were playing were more male oriented types of places, and we bring
the chicks with us, wearing the go-go boots and miniskirts.  They love
the band.
Mike: The thing is, that little scene, that's somehow unheard of in D.C.
Jason: It's not like we're sticking two girls on stage and dancing, these
are girls that just show up at every gig, and [there are a] lot.  The band
likes it, punks like it, parents like it.
CD: I find it hard to believe that parents like that!
Mike: My mom likes us!
CD: There must be some pretty hip parents around there!  I was going to ask
you about one of the songs on the EP called "Drugs."  I take it you guys are
pro-legalization, at least of pot?
[outburst of laughter]
Mike: We've only been doing it for a couple of years, so I wouldn't quite
call us pros yet, but we're working on it.
[more laughter]
Jason: It's like a political thing.  It's something we wrote in high school
a couple of years ago, but I guess it gets the point across.
Mike: We're anything but a political band, that song is not even saying
"Drugs are cool, everyone should do drugs."  It's just that everyone should
have that option.  It's not a peer pressure song or anything like that.
Jason: It's the decriminalizing aspect of it.
Billy: It kind of comes down to First Amendment rights.
Mike: I definitely think there's a group of people that sit around and do
drugs and do nothing with their lives, but I also believe that there's a 
big population of people who use drugs and are very creative.  Take the
Village Voice, this writer broke a big article on pot and how he liked to go
home and smoke a big joint after work.  Andy Warhol, he totally believed
people could be creative on drugs.
Frank: Not that we're experts or anything.
Mike: I'm so high strung anyway, that pot brings me down to a level where
I can deal with people.  Otherwise, I'm one big pot of coffee.  It helps me
formulate my thoughts.
Frank: What I think is, um... oh, nevermind, I forgot what I was going to
say!
Billy: Must be from smoking too much pot!
[more laughter]
CD: I don't know what it's like out there, but here we're seeing a lot more
pot busts.
Mike: Yeah, I just got some mushrooms mailed from my brother in Olympia.
CD: That's the home of the good stuff.  There was a doctor, a woman around
here, who was growing pot to help her patients with glaucoma, and they
busted her!
Mike: They're just trying to make a point or something.
Frank: We do another song called "Jimmy Comes," which was written about the
old drummer, Jimmy, when he was still in the band --Mike has a knack for
writing about everyone around him-- the song starts off, "Driving in the
pouring rain, looking for some rock cocaine, Jimmy's screwing up and going
down again tonight."
Jason: One day at practice, he says, "Hey, is this song about me?"
Mike: We don't try to sing about drugs, like everyone should be fucked up,
we have two songs about drugs, but this band is not on a big cause about
drugs.  We have other topics on our minds.
CD: You mentioned that your not a political band.  What do you guys write
about mostly?
Mike: Chicks!
Frank: Just about our lives, what we see happening.
Mike: There's this song we used to do called "Walk Away," again about our
other drummer, he was a notorious woman beater, and he just made this way
too public.  I was friends with a girl he was beating, and I just saw it as
way too fucked up, that kind of shit.  I thought the song might kinda inspire
her to get out.  But, stuff like that, what I see around me.  There's one
song called "Life Ain't Easy," which is about what it's like when your
girlfriend is fucking around on you behind your back.  We have a song called
"Black Sheep," about being different, about being what you want to be,
whatever.
Frank: But that's like another song that could be interpreted many different
ways.
CD: Do you guys get accused of being "sexist" with your lyrics?
Jason: We just did a "Rock for Choice," which is sponsored by the Feminist
Majority Group, which is putting ourselves on the line, 'cause if anyone is
going to call us that kind of shit, they are.
Mike: But it didn't happen.  You gotta keep in mind, that we do it all with
a lot of humor.  Most people, if they're of any kind of intelligence, they
see the humor in us and get our songs.  There have been a few that didn't,
though.
Frank: Bad publicity does wonders though, from everyone like the Sex Pistols
to 2 Live Crew.
CD: A little bit of controversy isn't going to hurt you too much.
Mike: This isn't staged stuff, either.  Everyone in this band has different
ideas about politics and all that, we're just honest in what we talk about.
We don't necessarily watch what we say, or refrain from saying what's on
our minds, because, well, lots of people get to say what they think!  Not
enough people say what's on their minds!  And if they want to say stuff
that's not honest, then they're the ones with the problem.
Billy: We had this flier that had a belly dancer on it, and someone said,
"Is that you view women?" and I said, "Sure, women like that, I do!"  We
always have women on our fliers.  We like girls, man.
CD: What are you guys doing while we do this interview?  I hear glasses
tinkling and stuff.
Mike: Oh, drinking some beers, you know.  We got some pot rolling here, we
got a banjo.
[brief interlude of banjo music]
CD: What are the Reprobates biggest influences?
Mike: I would say the Rolling Stones and the New York Dolls would have to be
my two biggest ones.
Billy: Definitely the Dead Boys, they changed my life a long time ago.  I
like a lot of stuff.  I love the Dwarves and The Supersuckers.
Mike: The last record I bought was Louis Jordan (sings "Caladonia".)  I'm
personally influenced a lot by the Glam scene.  The original Glam scene, not
the shit that happened in California in the '80s, [but] stuff like T. Rex
and stuff.  I mean, the stuff that came later was just bad metal with a bunch
of pretty faces.
Jason: I was into a lot of cornball Doowop and shit, I'm really into songs
with hooks.
Mike: You see a lot of bands with the right influences, the right looks, the
right equipment, but they can't write the songs.
Jason: We're a band that writes songs.  That's where Rock 'n' Roll came from.
I mean, a lot of punks, like the Sex Pistols were against the Rod Stewarts
and the Rolling Stones, but they wrote some great music, whether or not they
were on the same political kick or whatever.
CD: I think punk bands of that time, they were a backlash against bands like
the Stones and the Who, which had become complacent.  I mean, those bands
weren't "notorious" anymore.
Jason: Yeah, I definitely agree with that, but then I can't go back to many
Stones albums and say they weren't great.
Mike: Look at that song "Where The Boys All Go," that's off of "Emotional
Rescue" from like 1980, and that's punk as shit.  I mean, I see all that,
but I like it all.
Jason That's coming from a guy with tattoos all over his body.
Mike: I got goats tattooed on me, and I like Rod Stewart!


The Reprobates:
5 Northhampton Road
Timonium, MD  21093
---------------------------------------------------------------------------

	     
	     THEY'RE KILLING JIMMY MONTGOMERY
	     A horror story that happens to be true.  
	     By DJ Johnson.

     Somebody is making an example of Jimmy Montgomery.  Some soldier or 
 soldiers in the wild and confusing battle called "the war on drugs" has
 painted a target on him, stood him up against a wall of propaganda, and,
 fortunately, misfired.  The war on drugs was supposed to rid the streets
 of the gangs, rid the world of the cartels, make this country safe again,
 assuming it ever really was.  The crack cocaine street wars. The moral decay.
 That was supposed to be what it was all about.  But those people shoot back.
 They have bigger guns than the feds carry.  They're not against using them.
      Hey, I know.  Let's kick down the doors of private citizens who 
 are smoking marijuana in their homes where they are hurting no one.  
 Let's take them away, put their names in the papers and claim them as 
 trophies in the war on drugs.  Let's take away their homes and their 
 cars and their children and their life savings.  The spoils of war.  
 And let's not be picky.  Let's go after the people who smoke marijuana 
 to relieve their pain.  These people don't scare us.  These people don't 
 shoot back.  They aren't the criminal type.  
  
      And then let's all get together at the local watering hole and 
 celebrate the victory with a few pitchers of brew.  We'll be off duty.
 Nobody will care.  We'll get numb for fun.  Just for fun. Hey, it's legal.
			  
			   Serious Pain 

      Jimmy Montgomery was an 18 year old highway worker when the scaffolding
 he was working on collapsed on an overpass, sending him crashing to the 
 freeway below.   The accident made him a paraplegic.  During lawsuit negot-
 iations, he was given a choice of fully paid medical for life, or a cash
 settlement.  His doctors could see his future.  He opted for the medical.
 23 years and 31 major surgeries later, the wisdom of that choice is obvious.
 Somewhere along the way, Jimmy got another little present from life.  He
 developed a condition known to medical people as Chronic Decubitis Ulcers 
 with Psuedomonous Staphylococcus Drainage, a terrible disease that actually 
 eats flesh and bone. He has a 10 inch hole in his thigh and a 3 inch hole 
 in one buttock, and the two are connected.  Infections are a constant 
 worry.  Pain is a constant fact.  Sometimes the prescribed medications just 
 don't do it.  Jimmy opted to smoke marijuana.  Many people do, for that 
 very reason.  For many, it's simply the only thing that makes the pain 
 bearable.
      On December 1st, 1990, police officers with a warrant entered the home
 that Jimmy shared with his mother, Thelma Montgomery-Farris.  They found 
 slightly less than 2 ounces of marijuana.  They also found and confiscated
 a pair of guns.  In court, Jimmy would be portrayed as a bad ass drug dealer
 who was armed and dangerous, who intended to distribute the weed.  The fact
 that the guns had belonged to Jimmy's father, and that they'd been in the
 house since his death in 1983 made little difference to the DA.  Only one
 witness testified against him, a sheriff by the name of Lawless.  Since that 
 trial, Lawless himself has been convicted of three counts of embezzlement
 of drug seized property, and embezzlement of drug seized money.  
 Jimmy Montgomery, medicinal marijuana user, was sentenced to life plus 16
 years, even though he had no prior record.  His mother put up her house and
 10,000 dollars of her own life savings to keep him out of jail during the
 trial, but eventually, there was nothing more she could do.
 For a while there, it looked like the house was going to be taken from her
 anyway.  She was charged with providing her home for illegal activities.
 She won that battle, but it cost her most of the rest of her savings.
      There are some obvious problems with the concept of incarcerating a 
 person with Jimmy Montgomery's ailments.  Medical treatment of an ongoing
 nature is not what prison hospital wards are set up for.  The medics there
 are used to broken bones.  Wounds from home-made knives.  Flu.  Every day
 injuries from every day life in the yard.  Here comes Jimmy, with a huge
 hole in his leg where the disease has eaten its way through.  He needs 
 three to four whirlpool baths every day.  He absolutely needs a shower after
 each one to wash away any bacteria from the hydro-tub.  Ideally, he needs
 to be the only one using the tub.  It's the bacteria thing.  It's not just
 a precaution.  Bacteria that would be harmless to you and me can kill him.
 He needs to have intravenous antibiotics, because that's the only
 form strong enough to fight his infections.  Pills just don't do the job.
 Jimmy was due for a round of IV Antibiotics at the time that they took
 him off to prison.  He certainly didn't get what he needed in the ward.
 Therefore, he was already on low battery before the neglect began.
 So the prison hospital welcomed its new patient/inmate to a ward where 40
 men use 1 hydro-tub.  And if you guessed that there would be no shower,
 you were absolutely right.  Jimmy's condition began to deteriorate almost 
 immediately.  
      Jimmy's status changes from day to day, or at least the reported 
 status does.  There have been a few near misses where his supporters thought
 his release was imminent.  He's been moved around within the prison a few
 times.  Once, he was moved from the hospital ward to a regular cell.  By
 law, he should have been provided with a cell designed for wheelchair 
 access.  There should have been bars that he could hoist himself into his
 bed with.  There should have been a special toilet seat.  And there is no
 reason on God's green Earth why a man in his condition, feeling the pain
 that he's feeling, should have been subjected to a body cavity search.
 We can only hope that his wounds were not searched, but there is nothing
 in the track record of the prison officials in this case to suggest that
 they wouldn't do just that.  


			   People Find Out

     Jimmy doesn't fight this battle alone.  NORML (National Organization
 for the Reform of Marijuana Laws) stepped in almost as soon as it began.
 At one point, even ABC got into the act, doing a segment on Jimmy's 
 situation for a special report on "the drug war" called "A New Strategy."
 Many concerned citizens phoned the office of the Governor Of Oklahoma,
 Frank Keating, asking for Jimmy's release to a qualified hospital.  The
 publicity was getting pretty heavy.  Eventually, an announcement was made
 that Jimmy would indeed be released to a hospital as soon as possible.
 Feeling certain that justice had prevailed and a terrible wrong had finally
 been righted, everyone let their guard down.  But somewhere in that prison,
 Jimmy Montgomery was still in pain, still in the wrong place, and still in
 the same clothing he'd come into the joint with.  And he was staying.
      The release wasn't coming.  Not yet, anyway, because the DA who had 
 procecuted him blocked the release.  Richard Dugger, it seems, has a thing 
 about his convictions sticking.  I think a lot of DAs do, but I like to 
 kid myself into believing that most DAs understand that this is not and will
 never be a black and white world.  There is such a thing as gray area, and
 simply pretending that this is not so does nothing toward changing the fact.
 Mr. Dugger obtained a conviction based on the false reality of Jimmy as
 drug dealer, a fact, he said, that was supported solely by the enormous
 amount of marijuana found in the defendants possession.  Slightly less than
 two ounces.  Of course, that could be made to sound like a huge amount to
 a jury. All you have to do is conduct the Voir Dire (jury selection)  
 screening process to eliminate anyone who wouldn't send a person to prison
 for easing their pain with marijuana.  A jury of his peers, they said.
 Shall we test them all for blood alcohol level on any given night?  
 These people could be made to believe that a seed meant he intended to
 start a pot farm.  Where was Jimmy's attorney during all this?  I don't
 know for sure, but I do know it was a public defender.  His second lawyer,
 a Mr. Raybon Martin, jumped into the case feet first, smiling and waving 
 and seeming quite confident.  His enthusiasm may have waned later on,
 however.  It's been said that he missed as many as three seperate appeal
 hearings and is no longer returning phone calls.  Nobody likes to lose.
      
			 Victims

      This is a crime.  The whole thing, from beginning to end, has been one
 long running crime.  It's been a crime against decency.  Against justice.
 Against the principles our nation was founded upon.  You're a victim, 
 because tomorrow, you may develop cancer, or AIDS, or any number of terrible
 diseases, and next week, you could be hit with the first wave of pain that
 is way beyond anything you ever imagined.  And you may discover that the
 only thing that eases that pain for any length of time is marijuana.  And
 some bunch of assholes who are feeling no pain of their own may just kick
 in your door and handcuff you and put you away.  Jimmy Montgomery's mother
 is certainly a victim here.  Her life has been turned upside down.  Worst
 of all, she has to suffer every day, knowing her son is being tortured for
 no good reason by the very government she and others of her generation were
 raised to trust and believe in.  
      Finally, there is Jimmy Montgomery himself.  He's been the silent party
 in this case.  He's in a place where talking can get you beaten or killed.
 He's at the mercy of too many people who don't seem to understand the 
 concept of mercy.  If not for the super-ego of a particular politician in
 the DA's office, Jimmy might be in a hospital, beginning another long fight
 to regain some semblence of health.  It took 137 days for his doctors to 
 repair the damage of his first eight months served. (He was released on
 bond for a year and a half, then returned to prison).  137 days in a 
 hospital bed.  How long will it take this time?  Until his doctor can get
 a good look at him, nobody knows.  And what if he dies from this experience?
 It's not at all far fetched, because Jimmy has been weakened so badly.  
 What then?  There will be no murder trial, that much we know.  No justice.
 One fact must be considered, and that is that if this same situation was
 taking place in Africa, or South America, and the victim was an American,
 our government would be doing everything it could to free that person.
 The same mistreatments would be discussed day in and day out by an outraged
 press.  There might even be threats of sanctions.  But this is America,
 and if it were not for the efforts of NORML, you wouldn't even know it was 
 happening.  The attitude of the Washington DC bunch may have been reflected 
 best by former Deputy Drug Czar John P. Walters, who was quoted in the
 May 1st issue of William F. Buckley Jr's NATIONAL REVIEW.  Mr. Walters was
 highly critical of the ABC news special on the case, saying "Apparently,
 ABC couldn't find a grandmother on death row for carrying a roach clip..."


				 Meanwhile

      As I write this, Jimmy has been moved from his cell back to the prison
 infirmary, where they have finally put him back on IV antibiotics.  The
 oral antibiotics weren't strong enough, just as his doctor had said, and
 he was deteriorating fast.  The DOC's pardon and parole board is set to
 meet sometime in the last week of May to discuss the situation.  Does all 
 this sound like progress?  I wonder what Jimmy thinks.  He's heard it all
 before.  
 
			   ----- * -----

 The author would like to thank the following people for providing so much
 assistance in the writing of this article... 
 
 Allen St. Pierre (Deputy National Director of NORML)
 Norma Sapp and Michael Pearson (from the office of OK NORML)

 And a special thanks to Thelma Montgomery-Farris, who helped a great deal
 with this story, and who answered a lot of unpleasant questions that I'm
 sure were not much fun for her to answer.  She's a class act.
 
 The author attempted to get opposing viewpoints from various people involved
 in this story, but was unable to do so.  The information used in the writing
 of this story was gathered from the above mentioned people.
 
 Here are some phone numbers of people who need to hear from you.
  
 Oklahoma Governor Frank Keating.........405-521-2342
				   Fax...405-522-3492
 NORML (Nat'l office)....................202-483-5500
				   Fax...202-483-0057
				   Email NORML@aol.com
 Oklahoma NORML office...................405-840-HEMP
--------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Concert Review: An Evening of The Music of Frank Zappa
		Conducted by Joel Thome
		Seattle Symphony * Band from Utopia * The Persuasions

By Cai Campbell                                             


I still can't believe that Frank has left this planet.  Not a day goes by
where I don't feel his presence.  His influence on my life has been subtle
and pervasive.  He has the dubious honor of being the most frequent
character in my often colorful dreams.  I miss that man very much.

I have a few regrets in this life, and one that nears the top of my list is
not ever having seen Frank Zappa perform live.  When I heard that
there was going to be a tribute concert in my home town, complete
with symphony and electric band, I knew I had to be there.  It would be
the closest I would ever get to experiencing the man himself (unless
you count his visitations in my dreams.)

Frank Zappa was a critical, meticulous artist; some might even call him
a control freak.  The thought of a concert performance of his music
without his presence --his ever insistent shadow-- bordered on the
absurd.  Still, the thought intrigued me.

The night had been arranged by Joel Thome, a long-time admirer and
some time collaborator with Frank.  Joel has been widely acclaimed as
an accomplished interpreter of both classical and contemporary
orchestral music and as a strikingly effective conductor of opera, and
other music/theater works.  He had been involved with projects as
diverse as 'The Age of Varese' before meeting Frank.  It seemed natural
that the two would eventually meet.  After all, Edgard Varese was the
motivating factor behind Frank's decision to become a composer.

Joel worked with Frank on the 'Zappa's Universe' project, which won a
Grammy in 1994 for 'Best Rock Instrumental.'  Joel was becoming
more and more appreciative of Frank's work, and in his own words, has
said, 'What struck me immediately was the wonderful, even startling
originality of his work and the depth of knowledge that was involved in
it.  Right away I noticed how often he would credit Anton Webern,
Arnold Schoenberg, Igor Stravinsky and, in particular, Edgard Varese. 
I felt that a composer who paid this sort of homage to colleagues was a
very special person indeed.'

The evening was to begin with three orchestrated pieces which Frank
had written for a project called 'The Perfect Stranger,' which Joel
originally conducted in 1993.  The Seattle Symphony is good, and I'm
sure under Joel's direction, they could achieve brilliance, but I
wondered about Frank's primary criticism with performances of his
own orchestrated works.  He has said:

     'I don't think there are going to be that many
     composers in the future. ...You can't just write
     music.  I don't think it was ever really that much
     better, but things are getting especially tough now
     because there are no budgets for the performances,
     no budgets for rehearsal.  If a chamber group or an
     orchestra does a performance of something, it's
     probably something that's already been written for
     hundreds of years, and the orchestra already knows
     it, which means that they don't have to spend
     money for rehearsal.  They play only the hits...'

Learning to play a new piece is tough enough, but when you consider
the complexities in Frank's music, which challenges even the most
advanced musicians, I had to wonder just how Frank would feel if he
were there.  Suddenly a chill went down my spine, for I had the feeling
that he was there.  This night was for him and he was there.  As critical
as ever.  I could feel him cringe as the orchestra began to warm up.

The orchestrated set consisted of three pieces:  'The Perfect Stranger',
'Naval Aviation in Art?', and 'Dupree's Paradise.'  Overall, they were
enjoyable, but the orchestra seemed strained, and slightly, almost
imperceptibly, out of synch with the spirit of the piece.  The audience
adored the performance, but I could see Frank frowning, shaking his
head, and holding his hands to his ears.  Except for the second piece,
'Naval Aviation In Art?'  The spirit seemed to flow and the orchestra
struck a mood which was truly inspired... and then it ended.  It was all
too short of a piece.

During the intermission, the crew began setting up the equipment for
the second half of the show.  I was getting excited!  A drum kit, an
electric piano, electric guitars, and was that Ike Willis mingling with the
fans?  The second half of the set had alumni from Frank's own band
joining the orchestra!  Along with Ike Willis, there was Tommy Mars,
Walter Fowler, Chad Wackerman, Tom Fowler, and the star attraction,
guitarist Steve Vai.  They called themselves 'The Band from Utopia,'
named after one of Frank's albums.  Joining this lineup was the vocal
group, The Persuasions, whom Frank had heard in 1970 and signed to
a recording contract on his own Straight Records.

Ike Willis was the star of the evening, hamming it up with the crowd
and displaying a cheerful and playful demeanor.  All the musicians had
their chance to shine under the spotlight, and it was very apparent why
Frank had hand-picked these individuals to be in his band.  The
performances were truly fine, and they worked very well with the
orchestra.  Some moments were truly inspired and you could feel the
spirit of Frank summoned forth in full magical force.

Highlights included a unique a capella version of 'Lucille Has Messed
My Mind Up' performed by The Persuasions.  The song 'Sofa' was
performed flawlessly, and the fusion of jazz, orchestra, blues, and rock
blended so perfectly that you would swear there was only one music;
THE music.  But the highlight of the evening was a spectacular version
of 'Inca Roads.'  Not a single nuance was out of place.  The orchestra,
rhythm, searing guitars, complex vocal arrangements, and syncopated
harmony of the piece all fell into place, leaving no doubt as to what
Frank had envisioned when he wrote it.

There were other magical moments and a few disappointments.  Frank's
extended whimsical jazz orchestra piece 'Waka Jawaka' was gaining
steam and taking on a life all it's own when the horn section of the
orchestra seemed to stumble.  Joel tried desperately and emotionally to
eke some passion out of them, but they floundered and the piece went
down with them.  Again I felt Frank's frustration as he seemingly pulled
at his hair.

Frank Zappa, the man, is gone from this world, but we can be eternally
grateful for the rich legacy he has left behind.  As long as there are
daredevils such as Joel Thome to continue to push the boundaries and
expand the horizons of Frank Zappa's music, we will always have the
man with us.  In that knowledge we can find great comfort.
		    
===========================================================================

 
		     THEY DID THE MONSTER MOSH
			  By DJ Johnson

     It was that time of year again.  Garage Shock!  Bellingham, Washington's
yearly bash that brings out some of the most knowledgable music fans in the
world.  People travel from all over this country (and world, for that matter)
to see great bands bash it out at the 3B Tavern over a four day stretch.
Mono Men, Impala, Swinging Neckbreakers, Galaxy Trio, Hentchmen, Man Or
Astro-Man...these are just a few of the bands in this years line-up.  Cosmic
Debris Issue # 1 was going to be a big review of Garage Shock.  
     Let's skip the part about finances scuttling the trip.  Let's talk about
CROCK SHOCK!  Seattle's answer to Garage Shock, held at The Crocodile Cafe.
The Friday night lineup sounded mighty attractive to my wife and I, so off
we went, my sister's camera in tow.  We arrived an hour and a half early, so
we ordered dinner.  Nice surprise.  We'd never eaten there before, and the 
food was excellent.  The service was, too.  So two stuffed Man or Astro-Man
fans waddled into the music area around 10:00, after a hassle over the camera
and a long wait for the bouncer to confirm that Coco, Man Or Astro-Man's 
bassist, had given me permission to take pictures.  
     Detroit trio The Hentchmen opened, and we found them to be...well, ya
know, this isn't a review.  Look, they played, and then Los Hornets played,
and then The Boss Martians played...okay, it's a review, but only for a few
seconds.  WOW!  I'd never heard the Boss Martians before, but I'm a fan now.
Evan Foster is one of the best surf guitarists I've ever heard.  I can't help
but believe he would have been a guitar hero in the 60's.  The rest of the
players are great, too.  I didn't hear anyone overdoing anything.  They were
all perfectly complimenting Foster's stellar surf guitar work.  Most of the
show was instrumental, but they did throw in a few rockin' vocal tunes, 
including an impressive version of The Trashmen's classic, Surfin' Bird.
Okay, review over.  Back to the topic at hand.
     Without being morbid or boring or both, let me just tell you that I am
what you'd call "the walking-crippled."  I can walk, I use a cane, and I have
no business standing up for very long at a time.  Lots of pain.  And so I
sat for the first three bands.  But when it was time for Man Or Astro-Man to
perform, my wife and I headed for front row center.  And there we stood for 
close to an hour, or at least I suspect it was close to an hour, as the road
crew struggled with the band's mondo-insane-o set.  Yup, a set.  Several TV's
with old sci-fi flicks playing on them, a couple trillion feet of plastic 
hose, bull horns the size of Texas, a movie screen behind the drum set...
You name it, it was back there.  
     Finally, the band walked through the crowd right next to us and onto the
stage.  And BAM!  We were suddenly facing a monsoon.  These guys just flat 
out go crazy on stage.  Coco The Electronic Monkey Wizard nearly imploded at 
least twice!  Birdstuff, the drummer, was soaked in sweat after half a song.
Aliens shouldn't sweat!  It's not safe!  But they just can't help it because
they're going at mach 4.  Captain Zeno jumps up on Birdstuff's kick drum and
balances on one foot, rocking dangerously from side to side and assaulting
his guitar with hammer-like blows to the bridge.  Star Crunch aims a karate
kick at Zeno's leg, missing by perhaps half an inch.  Zeno launches himself
backward and somehow manages to miss Coco by a good foot and a half, while 
Coco spins in hysterical circles but never misses a note on that trippin'
blue Dan Electro Longhorn Bass of his.  It's made of something like formica.
How totally appropriate.  Everything on the stage, from the electronic gear
to the instruments themselves, looks like it was purchased in a junk shop
on Venus.  And the whole damned effect is highly intoxicating.  Save your
money and don't buy that tab of acid.  You won't be needing it in here.  Come
on inside.  Here's yer 3-D glasses.  Nothing's actually in 3-D, but we have
a dress code, y'know.  
     All of this would be meaningless if the music sucked.  This is Man Or
Astro-Man, my friend, so no worries.  While the look seduces your eyes, the
sound envelopes you, soaking you with reverb, propelling you with the power,
until it becomes that elusive total experience.  "Mind Trip" is such a cliche
these days...but it fits.  They are the total Mind Trip band.  They claim to
be aliens.  Preposterous?  We'll talk about it after you see them live.  

And then...
The power is what ultimately starts the trouble.  A few hundred people who've
downed five or six hundred beers, some speed and God knows what else, are
feeling the power too.  It starts with dancing, then a few people dance with
a bit too much enthusiasm, and next thing you know, it's not a concert 
anymore.  It's Demolition Derby with human vehicles.  The drunken asshole
who throws his head into your chin doesn't feel a thing.  He makes Beavis
look like Stephan Hawking.  You, on the other hand, hurt like hell and have
at least two fewer teeth than you came in with.  Just about the time you
finally realize this, Neanderfuck comes back for a second attack, this time
accompanied by a few dozen people who look up to him for his intellect.
BLAM!  Now you're on your knees, trying desperately to get up while the 
throbbing of your now twisted ankle fights the idea.  Look out!  It's a
Dork-Tsunami!  Yup, our friend from Mensa is comin' in for the kill with
about fifty other football players who were pushed through college, and there
you are on one knee, holding your teeth in your bleeding hand and watching
the oncoming wave of fools.  There ain't a thing you can do about it.  Night
night.  Try to land on your wallet before losing conciousness, or it's gone.
     It's a week later and I'm still a hurtin' unit.  My sister's camera took
an un-scheduled beer bath as my wife and I tried to make our escape.  Then
my wife and I took even more beer to the face and chest.  God, I hate beer.
I'm a whiskey man.  If you're gonna dump anything on me, make it Jack Daniels
and not that GREEN label crap, either.  Black!  Got it?  So a bunch of drunks
ruined an otherwise great night for us.  And not just us.  There were a lot of
refugees walking out of that place along side us.  I decided to ask some of
my friends from various music email-lists what they thought of Moshing.
I was surprised to find that nobody wrote in favor of it.  I received so many
messages from people relating their own moshing horror stories that I 
briefly considered compiling them into a humungo-article for Cosmic Debris.
But in the end, I decided I'd just tell you what happened that night in
Seattle, and let you be the judge.  I will tell you that the average email
response I received contained at least one sentence depicting moshers as
idiots.  Some offered suggestions on how to get even with moshers.  Good
taste prohibits my passing that info along.  One was so terrible I was 
compelled to turn off my computer and wash the screen.  It's not too likely,
though.  Unless you drive your car into the club, where would you attach the
other end of the jumper cables?
----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Reviews by Alan Wright
contact: head13@aol.com

THE JUNKYARD DOGS - "Good Livin' Platter" (Sympathy 10" EP) Hey, you
can't fool me!  I know that this 10" record of countrified, acoustic
based tunes is really The Supersuckers plus friends from Mudhoney,
Steel Wool and more in disguise.  Sure, there are a bunch of guest
musicians, and everyone's taken on ridiculous pseudonyms like "Eddie
Cheddar," "Smokin' Doobage" and "Marko Armani" (gee, I wonder who
that could be?), but I'm in on the whole joke.  Actually, as much as
you may want to presume that this record is just a joke, it's also
really good.  There's only two original songs on here, including the
title track, "Good Livin'" and "Unwanted Man." The other six songs
are comprised of a strange selection of covers: "View From Here" by
The Gories, "Drug Store" by The Dwarves, "Breakin' The Law" by Judas
Priest, "Ambition" by The Fall-outs, "Born To Cry" by Dion and
"Gates Of Steel" by Devo.  The stripped-down, hoe-down sound is
carried out with instruments like slide guitar, washboard, stand-up
bass, harmonica and so forth, combined with a chorus of female
backing vocalists, for a street busking type sound.  It all sounds
like it was a lot of fun to record, and the covers are remarkably
well executed.  Hearing them country-fi The Dwarves and Judas Priest
is hilarious, and The Fall-outs cover is rockin'!  This is indeed
worth checking out.

GAS HUFFER/RED AUNTS Split (Sympathy 7" single) This is a great 7"
release!  First of all, it's a picture disc with Gas Huffer dressed
up as women on their side, and The Red Aunts dressed up as men on
the other side.  To drive the concept home, Gas Huffer cover The Red
Aunts' "Teach Me To Kill" with "Tomasina Price" vocalizing and
playing the organ, while everybody else in GH switches around on
instruments.  They manage to get a very cool and garagey sound on
this one, too.  The Red Aunts take on Gas Huffer's "Hotcakes," but
for some reason title it "Cupcakes," and it still sounds like
they're singing "hotcakes" on the chorus!  I don't think their
version is quite up to Gas Huffer's, but it's a nice try.

VARIOUS: "We're All Normal, And We Want Our Freedom: A Tribute To
Arthur Lee and Love" (Alias triple 10" EP set) There's no denying
that the '60s folk-rock band Love were in a class all of their own.
Their first four LPs are bonafide classics if you ask me, and so a
tribute to Love with modern bands interpreting their songs seemed
like a great idea.  Unfortunately, the person who compiled this
didn't do so hot of a job.  As with many a tribute LP, especially
those related to major labels, half of these bands probably don't
exist and are just studio hacks who have no idea what the hell
they're supposed to be doing.  Case in point the Rocky Erickson
tribute from a few years back that really sucked.  Well, this pretty
much sucks too.  Most of the bands, in some lame attempt to
"modernize" Arthur Lee's songs, end up blaspheming them instead.
There are a few exceptions: Urge Overkill do a faithful version of
"Robert Montgomery," and Uncle Wiggly's "My Flash On You" captures
the original's garage-rockin' charm.  On the other hand,
Gobblehoof's ridiculous "Alone Again Or" captures absolutely none of
the original's orchestrated virtues, and local boys Love Battery
should be drawn and quartered for their massacre of "No Matter What
You Do." I wouldn't be surprised to find out that most of these
bands had never even heard Love before they were corralled into
recording songs for this release, because most of the bands on here
sound like they don't have a clue what Love sounded like!

TEN FOOT POLE - "Rev" (Epitaph CD) This is the best punk rock record
I've heard in a long time!  It's got speed, it's got melody, and
it's got cool lyrics.  In fact, the songs are so darn catchy that I
couldn't help but find myself playing this one over and over again.
Two guitarists provide a hard edge, and the singer can actually
sing.  It's pretty obvious that these guys are heavily influenced by
Bad Religion, and have the knack for penning the kind of songs that
stick in your head.  They have a similar cynical approach to their
lyrical content, as expressed on songs like "World's Best Dad" which
has the lines "You pray to God and wonder just who's up there/what
kind of father would leave his kids alone/in a world where you're
lucky if your mom cares/hordes of people call the streets their
home." In "Old Man," they sing of "a place where no one locks their
doors," and yet admit that we've can't go back to the times when
that was probable.  Tunes that will remain in your head, words that
mean something...you need this CD.
 
THE GOLDENTONES - "Atlantis" (Bigmom CD) These guys play instrumental
surf music that has much in common with Shadowy Men On A Shadowy
Planet.  Like that group, they take the basic surf sound and update
it without it sounding lame.  They also add elements of other
musical stylings for variety's sake.  Their first full-length CD,
"Atmosphere" was a mostly surf-oriented affair, but on this one they
expand a bit.  Not that the surf element isn't still predominant on
songs like "F-Forward," "Praying Mantis" and "Freestyle," but they
mine a more rock territory with tunes like "Spitfire" in which they
forgo the reverb for some harder-edged chords.  "Departure" finds
them in a moody, waltz-tempo mood with some shimmering guitar work.
Being an instrumental band, they understand the importance of not
fitting into one genre too much, and on this CD they do a fine job
of proving that they can express themselves with just guitar, bass,
drums, and some fine tunes.

THE CAMPUS TRAMPS - "Curves Ahead" (1+2/Get Hip CD) The Campus Tramps
are another one of those bands that subscribe to the "school of '77"
philosophy of punk.  They're not particularly concerned with being
"politically correct." In fact they don't seem to be concerned with
much except singing songs about girls, cars and being young.  I
think they hail from the U.K.  "Thunderbird" could either be about
the car, or the wine, depending on your point of view.  Most of the
songs, with titles like "Outta Sight," "Wild Time" and "Get Ready"
are under the two-minute mark and share a similar aesthetic as bands
like The Devil Dogs, by far the easiest comparison I can come up
with.  They do a pretty cool cover of DMZ's "Lift Up Your Hood" and
they put Jayne Mansfield in the liner notes.  It's raw, it's fun and
that's about all that matters.

DEAD MOON - "Ricochet" (Sympathy 7" single) The latest offering from
this Clackamas-based trio is this 7" release on the Sympathy For The
Record Industry label.  I hope that this means a new Dead Moon
full-length is on the way, but for now these two songs will do.  The
A-side is "Ricochet" and it's the usual blast of raw, garage-style
rock that one comes to expect from Dead Moon.  The flip though is a
slightly melancholy ballad with Fred and Toody sharing the lead
vocals.  It's the kind of song that makes your heart ache, but I
still want to play it over and over again.

THE PRIMATE 5 - "She Cleans House" (Rat City 7" EP) I've always had a
penchant for liking bands with silly gimmicks.  The Primate 5's
silly gimmick consists of wearing ape masks when they play.  What
they play is a pretty irresistible kind of garage punk, complete
with cheesy organ, and recorded in wonderful Mono.  "She Cleans
House" is a catchy '60s Punk type tune with ridiculous lyrics.  The
B-side's two numbers include the instrumental surf romp "P-5 Theme"
and "Bullet Train" which is a speedy punk rawk, and funny.  This is
cool!

BUM - "I Am Superwoman" (Au Go-Go CD) This latest Australian release
from the wonderful Victoria BC band Bum may also be their last with
this line-up.  Singer/lead guitarist/songsmith Rob Nesbitt recently
quit the group, but Bum plan on continuing with a new guitarist
(recent show's have had band pal's like The Fastbacks' Kurt Bloch
and The Smugglers' Nick Carswell subbing on guitars).  "I Am
Superwoman" takes it's name from one of the greatest movies ever
made, Russ Meyer's magnificent 1970s opus, "Beyond The Valley Of The
Dolls," and features a selection of unreleased tracks and songs from
singles.  "Your Name Was Next To Mine" starts it off, and is one of
the unreleased tunes, a very catchy and melodic pop-punk number.
You also get the excellent "Your Disciple," which was featured on
last year's excellent Popllama CD "Wanna Smash Sensation," but here
it is the 7" single version.  The B-side of that, a crunching
version of The Dictator's "Weekend" with Mr.  Bloch on guest guitar
is also on this.  There are some other great cover tunes on this, as
well: "Got Yourself Together," a Stones song from 1966 gets a
revved-up treatment, as does "My Pal," originally by Aussie hard
rockers God.  Their version of The Only One's "Oh No" really shreds,
and whoever is singing this one (there are three Bum singers) gets
Only Ones singer Peter Perret's unique vocal style down perfect!
They even tackle Japanese punkers Teengenerate's "Don't Come Close
To Me." This is a totally rockin' release, and don't forget to check
out the surprise "bonus track" at the end, a live version of another
Stones song that I can't remember the name of, but it's off of one
of their less interesting '70's or '80s releases, I think.

YOUNG FRESH FELLOWS - "(Hey Everybody) It's Gorilla Time (Telstar 7"
single)/"Benzadrine Beat" (Au-Go-Go 7" EP) These two 7" releases
have to be two of the strangest YFF's releases in a while.  Of
course, the Fellows have a habit of doing these sort of things.
Remember that "Gun Sharpeners" 7" from a few years agothat had a
B-side that was all of ten seconds long?  Of how about that freebee
single they gave away at the CD release party for "Low Beat Time?"
At that show, I ended up with about twenty of those things because
people just left them lying around after the show.  I guess there's
more and more people without turntables these days.  With that in
mind, you should probably only buy these if you have a turntable.
The first one, on Telstar records features yet another foray by the
Fellows into "monkey rock" with the odd "Gorilla Time." Scott Mc
Caughey sings in a sort of falsetto style, and they seem to be going
for some sort of "budget rock" sound.  The B-side is called "Mo'
Gorilla" and is a continuation of side A. The record jacket has the
dance steps for "doing the gorilla," if you're so inclined.  The
"Benzadrine Beat" 7" comes housed in a real cool sleeve, like those
sleazy 1950s expolitation books about beatniks.  Side A features "99
Girls" and "She Won't Budge," two of my fave songs off of "Low Beat
Time." These two tracks were recorded at Audio Recording on the same
equipment used by The Sonics and The Wailers in the '60s.  Needless
to say, they both Rock, with a capital "R." The flipside has "Got My
Feet On The Ground" and "Ballad Of The Big Three." (The Big Three
were a Liverpool "merseybeat" band in the days of The Beatles) Both
tunes are good R & B style songs, and sound like they were recorded
at the same time as the A-side songs, but remained unreleased until
now.

THE MC5 - "Powertrip" (Alive/Bomp!  CD) If you don't know who the
Motor City 5 were, I don't think I have the space to explain it to
you.  If you do know who they were, then you may want to investigate
this new CD release (also available as a ten inch vinyl release,
with less tracks).  It's a compilation of previously unreleased and
recently excavated recordings by this legendary Detroit "protopunk"
group.  The extensive liner notes inside will tell you all you need
to know about the recordings, but for your benefit, I'll capsulize
here.  Highlights of this release inlcude: an instrumental version
of "Looking At You," one of their early singles from 1968; the
supposedly "lost" MC5 song "Black To Comm," from 1969 (I've been
dying to hear this one for a long time!; and killer covers of blues
standards "I Put A Spell On You" and "Born Under A Bad Sign." The
material on this CD is culled from their most experimental, feedback
drenched days, and also includes "jam" numbers like "Head Sounds,
Pt.  2" and "I'm Mad Like Eldridge Cleaver," both of which clock in
at 16 and 19 minuted respectively!  These two "songs" certainly show
off the bands appreciation and influence of Sun Ra to the the nth
degree!  Finishing up this release is an absolutely crunching live
version of "I Want You," a song originally by The Troggs that the 5
took and made into a song all their own.  You want to see the "roots
of grunge?" Look no further than songs like this!  Those seeking a
first exposure to the 5's music might be better off checking out
their actual album releases of the period, such as "Kick Out The
Jams" and "Back In The USA," but for fans of the MC5, hearing much
of this stuff is like a dream come true.

THE TELL-TALE HEARTS - "High Tide (Big Noses & Pizza Faces)"
(Voxx/Bomp!  CD) Back in the days of the mid-80s "garage revival"
scene that revolved around The Cavern Club, there was no doubt that
the Tell-Tale Hearts led the pack of "paisley undergound" bands that
were popping up everywhere.  They combined primitive and snotty
mid-60s garage punk with R & B and Blues influences, and had in Ray
Brandes a great vocalist.  Bill Calhoun played the keys, Eric Bacher
was the guitarist, Dave Klowden the powerhouse drummer, and Mike
Stax (publisher of the great Ugly Things fanzine) the "bass that ate
San Deigo." These guys had it all: the "look," the sound, and the
carefree attitude.  What this CD does is collect both released, and
previously unheard material.  The cover design, and CD title is a
hommage to The Rolling Stones' "High Tide & Green Grass" LP.  The
first 5 tracks, culled from the band's first demos, show them at
their primitive best, covering some obscuro '60s tunes, including
the insane "Crackin' Up," originally by Texas lunatics The Wig.
These tunes, except for "My World Is Upside Down" which appeared on
on of Voxx's "Battle Of The Garages" compilation LPs, have never
been issued before and now finally you can hear them!  The rest of
the CD compiles five re-mixed tunes and one outtake from their
self-titled debut LP, all of their "Now Sounds Of..." follow-up EP,
a rare Australian single and three live cuts, including a great
version of The Seeds' "Satisfy You." Recorded between 1984-86, this
release is a testement to this great, but shortlived bands great
garage sound!
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
			   
			   U R B A N I A !
			   By James Andrews

     "Hello! Welcome to Cosmic Debris, issue #1, and more specifically, my 
column! I'm Jim, and on behalf of all of us here at Cosmic Debris, Inc. I'd 
like to welcome you to our readership. You should meet the other reader, cuz 
he's actually a pretty nice guy, for a prison inmate and all.
Anyway, I digress. What was I talking about? Oh, yeah. I think it was boobs. 
Oops. Did I say that out loud? For Christ's sake, I don't think I can write 
a column about boobs. What I meant was that I was THINKING about boobs. Er, 
I think I digressed again. What I was ACTUALLY trying to do was titillate 
the prurient interests of minors, while it's still legal here in Washington 
State. If the GOP has its way up here, they'll come and burn your computer 
if you have this article on here. HEY MINORS!! PENIS!! VAGINA!! SEXUAL
INTERCOURSE!! Ya know, I think I just figured something out. I think that 
the GOP REALLY just wants to censor the things that titillate THEIR prurient 
interests. I bet that all we have to do is wait and see what's on their 
blue-pencil list, and, BINGO! We know what turns on the GOP. Although, now 
that I think about it, WHY you'd wanna turn on the GOP is beyond me. I think, 
to me, that "fucking Republican" is just another way of saying "Republican," 
and is not in ANY way meant to be taken clitorally.
     Of course, I don't have any reasonable alternatives to give you, 
alternatives to the GOP, that is. The Democrats had a party in the 60's, 
maybe, but now all they have is a hangover, as far as I'm concerned. I say
we elect Robert Shapiro as president in '96. Now THERE'S a guy who doesn't 
make any excuses for being slimy. I get the feeling that there was a 
crossroads in his life where his mind was furiously debating: "...Well, if
I DO become a lounge singer, I'll DEFINITELY get the chicks...Of course, if 
I become a lawyer, I'll get to help free murderers and rapists, ya know, 
give something back to the country that reared me...I KNOW! I'll become a 
lawyer, and keep lounge singing as a night-time gig, so I can get the chicks 
AND free murderers and rapists..." 
     Now, as far as O.J. goes, this is all I'm gonna say about it. Ever. You 
know he's guilty, I know he's guilty. A.C. Cowlings knows he's guilty. And 
he's probably never gonna serve a day in prison as a convicted man. Ok. 
Enough said.
     Now, if you have any brilliant ideas on who to elect to the most 
telegenic job in the free world (um, president, that is, not judge...) I'd 
love to hear them. If you're an angry Republican, I'd REALLY love to hear 
from you. Especially if you're an angry YOUNG republican. If you ARE an angry 
young Republican, and you forgot what your opinions are, just go outside and 
look at the bumper-stickers on your vehicle and write down what they say on 
them. If you don't know how to write, just put tracing paper on the 
bumper-stickers and trace anything that doesn't look like a picture to you. 
I'm sorry, but "This Truck Insured by Smith & Wesson" will NOT suffice as an 
opinion. Okay? AND I'd like to hear your ideas on which of your roving band 
of Reagan's rabble rousers would finally save this country from the Evil 
International Gay Conspiracy once and for all.  (All of us "liberals" are 
just patsys for the Gay Conspiracy, ya know.) So good-bye for this month.

Jim Andrews
E-Mail:
ohchrist@usa.pipeline.com
----------------------------------------------------------------------------

 And now, the cultural portion of our zine.  Thank you. Thank you.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------
 ROSES ARE FUCKED: Our two cultural offerings for the month of June are a  
		   study in contrast.  


	THE PRISON OF GANYMEDE

	They are free
	To wander, aimlessly,
	From the solar shelters, where
	Packed in shelves for flesh they
	Soak in moisture dripped in sweat
	From the one above who
		Soaks in moisture dripped in sweat
		From the one above who...
	Forgotten... forgetting,
	They come enter the stone mouths 
	Of a world never born, wishing an answer...
		Rasping out pressurized lives
	Gouging deeper into the dark.
	Forgotten by the ones before, their victims.
	Could they remember, would they feel sated?
		Profiteers, murderers, rapists, thieves...
	Scrapping, digging, hauling, heaving...
	In a corpse world, beneath the foreign sky.
	This existence they find so familiar.
		Fathers, sons, mothers, sisters, siblings, 
		Convicts.
	Barred an old mother world 
		They can't remember 
	To mourn.
	Wishing for an answer to an exile 
		They can't remember.
	Memory...
	Privilege lost for guilt
	From the ones before
		They can't remember.
		Fathers, sons, mothers, sisters, siblings, 
		Victims.
	Ore laden rock sent to who-knows-where,
	Traded for one more day's imported air.
		They can't remember 
	Why they are resolved
	To live another day.

	--J.C. Hendee


	      
	      H O R S E Y

		(I)
	Once there was a pretty pony.
	Children called it "Agonony".
	Then it broke its leggy boney,
	Now it is some cheap baloney.

		(II)
       "Daddy, where's our precious pony?"
	Asked the eldest, little Joanie.

       "Gone to live with Old Mahoney,
	In pastures green, at Rancho Crony."

       "Can we go?" begged brother Tony,
       "May we please?" cried sissy Nonnie.
	Daddy's voice turned very groany,
       "Let's not get all whiney-moany!"

	Mama's heart was not so stoney,
	When Baby wanted "ony?  ony?"

	Tears fell on the macaroni,
	As she chewed her "abaloni"....
	Its flavor tasting somewhat phony,
	Not quite fishy.... more like....
				horsey.
 
	     - cybr/\w/\spydr

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

----------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
 And that about wraps it up for issue # 1 of COSMIC DEBRIS.  We hope you 
 found it entertaining.  COSMIC DEBRIS' World Wide Web site can be found at -

		 http://www.greatgig.com/cosmicdebris

 The site is new, and not exactly jam-packed with fun stuff yet, but we're
 working on it.  Our links will grow constantly.  One of our goals is to
 provide you with an outstanding jumping off point for web surfing.  We'll
 also continue to search for sites that will satisfy the twisted mind, and
 add them to our links.  One thing you can do already at The Cosmic Debris
 Homepage is download this zine in two forms.  An ascii (text only) version
 and a PC .exe version.  Users with MS-DOS machines can download a rather
 large file (somewhere around a meg) that is compressed with ZIP, and after
 unzipping it, it can be run and viewed.  This version is something we're 
 very excited about.  It's made possible by a spiff program from NeoSoft  
 called NEOBOOK.  When you run it, you get all the trappings of a real
 magazine, only no papercuts.  Pictures, cool fonts and yeah, even ads.
 And best of all, it's mouse driven!  Click on the article of your choice, 
 and you're there!  As I said, it can be downloaded at our WWW site, or
 you can find it at The Great Gig In The Sky BBS in Seattle, Washington. 
 Cosmic Debris Ezine was born on The Gig, and we think of it as the zine's 
 home town.  If you're dialing around looking for a place with good
 coversation, people who know their music, and a file section to die for,
 call 206-935-8486.  

 If you would like to submit articles, reviews or anything at all to COSMIC
 DEBRIS, please do so via email to moonbaby@serv.net and we'll see what we
 can do.  The same address can be used to send feedback to us.  In the near
 future, we may run letters from readers, and those may also be submitted to
 the above address.  Thank you for reading, and see you next month.
  
 DJ Johnson
 Editor



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