Many years ago, I lived near a Tower Records with an amazing selection. This was after I stopped getting my music for free from air promotions for being a radio DJ and before I started getting my music for free from publicists for being a journalist. It was also after I was broke and living in a punk rock group house and before I stopped giving a fuck about most of it.

I knew these two guys who went by the telling monikers of Psycho and Xylo. Psycho had a job as a clerk at Tower. One of his responsibilities was to check people’s bags while they were browsing. Now Psycho’s dad was some ridiculously high-ranking mucky-muck in the military, so Psycho could come off as sort of responsible. Xylo was less convincing, but he knew me. I had striped hair and liked to wear my underwear in public, but I came across as much more innocent and respectable. Probably because I was. But I was broke, coveted music, and was sweet on Xylo, so it didn’t take much to get me in on their heist.

The basic plan was actually kind of brilliant in its elegant simplicity. Psycho stockpiled a ton of CDs behind the counter where he worked. Xylo supplied me with a duffle bag, which I checked upon entering the store. I looked like someone who would shop at Tower, but I didn’t look like someone who would be part of a heist, because I normally wouldn’t have been. The idea was that I would check “my” bag, browse around the store while Psycho filled the duffle bag with CDs, and then pick up “my” duffle bag and leave. Now the plan got a little bit more complicated when everyone in my group house heard about it and also wanted in. But the basics were the same and I was still the wholesome-looking mule for the big haul. Only the security guard started following me around and chatting me up because he thought I was hot. Which made things a little easier for my degenerate housemates and assorted unsavory pals, but I was stuck feigning interest in some band called Forced Entry which the security guard was telling me about.

So, when I say that file-sharing is killing stores like Tower, I mean it, but I’m not saying that I don’t understand what it is like to be young and budget-challenged and want music so passionately, it seems more necessary than food.

Great American Group is the company which won the bidding for most of Tower’s assets, now that the company is in bankruptcy. Great American has helped a large number of retailers liquidate their assets. When I say a large number, I mean to the tune of more than thirty billion dollars worth, GAG has fluidized merchandise from not only Tower Records, but Aron’s Records, Musicland, and Wherehouse Music, among many other bankrupt giants. If Tower were the only music chain going under, one could think it was just mismanagement on the part of Tower higher-ups, but Tower is not alone in the pain there.

Some people claim that Tower’s troubles are due to them being late to embrace new technology. These are the same morons who will tell you a Mac is better than a PC without having one single solitary shred of rationale for that opinion, much less proof. Tower in fact built one of the first online music retailers, in partnership with AOL in 1995. Their own online store hit the web shortly thereafter. They did podcasting partnered with Outhink and super indie artist distro partnered with CD Baby.

In many respects, MTS, Inc., Tower’s corporate parent, is an American counterculture success story. Chairman Russell Solomon dropped out of high school to do what financial reporters euphemistically refer to as “fulfill hippie dreams” i.e. presumably to get laid, smoke pot, and most importantly rock and roll. The Tower corporate website itself refers to the company as the result of “a vicious hangover and a greasy breakfast.” Solomon built Tower up to be one of the top music chains in the States with more than two hundred stores, including approximately ninety company-owned stores and franchises in approximately seventeen countries.

Back when we were doing Blue Blood in print, Tower Records used to have nearly 100% sell-through for us, the foreign franchises usually being the stumbling block to perfection. Tower made a ton of money from the zine revolution because they were very forward-thinking on it. Tower locations tended to be huge shopping center anchors or stand-alone locations, so they were never answerable to any repressive mall landlords. They had this buyer Doug Something whose voicemail pushed garlic and red wine, but who was so bitchy he actually made me cry once . . . while doubling his order for Blue Blood. No mean feat. I outsourced our distro after that.

At any rate, let me give you all a quick explanation of what it means that Blue Blood had nearly 100% sell-through via Tower Records. Sell-through percentage is the amount of copies of a magazine which are actually reported as sold versus the number which are reported as destroyed or returned to the publisher or distributor. 30% is considered very successful. One issue of Blue Blood, it was Japan which kept us from flawless sell-through. The prior issue Tower had had no problems with and they upped their Japanese distro for us, but it just so happened that we’d had an issue where everyone naked was completely shaved and the following issue contained pubic hair, which Japan was having none of. Japanese law was apparently written by people too prudish to even mention genitalia, so the lawmakers just sort of wrote around it. Hence, it is not difficult to distribute explicit media in Japan, but it can’t show any muff.

At any rate, Doug Whatever wasn’t always easy to deal with, but what he did was really special, so special that the Wall Street Journal profiled the man (which he was sure to mention during pretty much every single conversation he ever had.) He bought publications of a sort which once could never have received wide distribution. Desktop publishing technology made zines possible, but companies like Tower Records brought them to the people. The zines on Tower’s shelves featured the whole gamut of of opinions the mainstream press did not carry – punk rock, queer-friendly, pervy, fucking nutjob, they were all there. I remember Forrest Black and yours truly buying more than a hundred dollars worth of copies of Skin Two for the first time at that Tower Records. I was gainfully employed by this time and Tower would carry back issues of international publications. It was a wonderful notion that there was a party like that somewhere beyond Virginia, where everyone could dress up in wild costumes and be themselves. I’m more cynical and maybe more in-the-know now than I was then, but that stuff was all so exciting then and Tower brought windows to another world to my neighborhood.

As a publisher, I know that Tower was one of the few distribution points which was truly a friend to independent publishers. Their buyer might have felt he deserved a blowjob and a cookie for giving indie folks the hook-up, but maybe he really did deserve a blowjob and a cookie for the good he did. Or some garlic and red wine. Whatever. All the crusty zinesters reading this know what I’m talking about. Tower would pay as agreed. Tower never lied about their sell-through percentages. Tower never ordered copies and then turned them down after they were printed. The most input Tower ever had on editorial content was to suggest more music coverage. Instead of claiming to destroy supposedly unsold copies, Tower would mail whole copies back to publishers if asked. Blue Blood could always do brisk business in back issues sales, so that would have made a huge difference if everyone had been as kind as Tower in that way.

According to Home Media Retailing, Trans World Entertainment was narrowly beaten out by the GAG liquidation company which picked up most of Tower’s assets. Trans World and Walgreens are now the two big bidders hoping to pick up leases on many Tower locations. Trans World appears to be a holding company for more than eight hundred media stores, mostly of the mall variety and including Sam Goody, Planet Music, Coconuts, Spec’s, Wherehouse, Suncoast, and their flagship FYE or For Your Entertainment. They appear decently poised to remain commercially viable in the new millenium, partly because they are on top of newer tech products like ringtones and partly because they are picking up all the chains with products at all similar to theirs. (Want to sell your site? Send me a Personal Message on the Blue Blood boards or contact us via our MySpace Profile.)

Companies like Trans World and Virgin (who bought out Tower’s UK interests some time ago) operate too many mall stores to ever be bastions of free speech, independent music, or indie anything else. A significant number of non-mall Virgin Megastores have closed their doors. Wal-Mart and Best Buy, who are by most accounts the two largest American music retailers today, are definitely not going to be launchpads for new music or new ideas. And the little independent music stores got fucked first by the current market climate. Most of them went under a few years ago, around the same time the Kemp Mill chain was going under. People always say they care about gourmet cheddar, but most will buy Cheez Whiz if it is competitively priced. It was not greed which set Tower prices higher than Wal-Mart’s. It was the simple economics of cost of goods sold and the economies of scale. Eight hundred pound gorillas like Wal-Mart can tell their suppliers what to charge. Additionally, chains like Best Buy or CostCo, which make most of their revenue from the sales of electronics or bulk items, will often sell things like music or books as what is known as loss leaders. A loss leader is an item sold at or below the store’s cost in order to attract customers. Of course, internet file-sharing also offers the music product for free. This means that stores like Tower and small indies get squeezed from both sides.

My college friend George heard about the exploit with Xylo and Psycho and the duffle bag and asked me how I reconciled participating, when I didn’t come up with the kinds of excuses some of my unsavory friends did. I told him that I thought it was important to keep my morals straight, to remember that stealing was stealing, so that, when I could afford it, I would not steal out of habit because I would still be able to tell right from wrong. If you are fourteen and limited by parental tastes and you snarf music online, I understand. If you are nineteen and in college and you snarf music online or patronize lame stores for the discounts, I understand. If you are twenty-two and in transition and you snarf music online or patronize lame stores for the discounts, I understand. If you are over twenty-five and gainfully employed and you do those things, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. If you are over twenty-five and not gainfully employed enough to afford one CD and engage in the self-discipline not to require two when you can only afford one, then also fuck you. Grow up and take some responsibility.

I have never stolen a song online because online file-sharing came along after I really was not in a place in my life where that was necessary. I accept that kids will sometimes steal music, but call the thing by its proper name. If you are stealing, fucking know you are stealing. And know that, if you make a habit of it, you have an impact. Don’t tell me you are just one little person and you couldn’t make a difference. I am so sick of hearing how every vote makes a difference from the same people who tell me their thefts impact no one. Almost all of the cool music stores are dead now. Some of the responsibility goes to the giants like Wal-Mart who can manipulate the marketplace, but you get some responsibility too, if you shop there. I have never set foot in a Wal-Mart. Most people can’t have everything they want, but that doesn’t make it okay to steal as a way of life.

Back to the Tower Records caper of yesteryear. When last we left our heroes, I was being pursued romantically (and ironically) by the security guard. The long-haired metal guy security guard chatted me up for quite some time and eventually got me to both give him my phone number and buy the Forced Entry CD. My companion in crime Xylo thought Forced Entry had to be a stupid metal band and was totally furious that I gave the security guard my number. Whether this was out of jealousy or fear of being caught, I do not know. I thought I did a good job protecting everyone. Xylo and Psycho were both later busted by Tower, trying to repeat the heist without my participation. I vaguely think Xylo was working there then and it was Psycho who got busted going through the security gate with still-magnetized product, but whatever. I suppose the specifics don’t matter that much. I could never decide whether the security guard wanted me to buy the Forced Entry CD because he was in the band, because a friend of his was in the band, because he really loved the CD, because he suspected what we were up to and thought it was funny, because he thought his musical taste would impress me, or because he was some kind of sex creep who liked the idea of, you know, Forced Entry.

I kept that Forced Entry CD for many years and only recently sold it to the Amoeba Records in Hollywood, California, where I now make my home. Some pundits are going on about how Amoeba is going to replace Tower Records culturally. Amoeba manages to have big stores which still feel like music stores and they do try to get involved in their local communities, including giving gigs to local bands, and all that is cool. However, they only have three outlets and they are all in California. Hipster pundits in New York are saying the same things about Other Music. Here is the thing though: Between the two of them, those stores have four outlets all together and they have two of the least-visited websites on the internet. The world just got a lot more limited for people outside of New York, Los Angeles, San Francisco, and other major metropolitan areas.

I mourn Tower’s passing. Tower founder Russ Solomon had some pleasantly upbeat things to say to the Sacramento Bee a while back, when it first became apparent that Tower might be going into a second bankruptcy. He said, “The truth is, I’ve had a great ride. We played too hard, we drank too hard, but we had a lot of fun. It’s been tough for everyone, these last few years, but what’s happened has happened.” On the even brighter side, I believe Tower Japan is a separately incorporated company with multiple robust websites, holdings in modern tech products, and fifty stores of its own, including the largest music store in the world with eight stories of CDs and related goodies. So maybe we can all move to Japan. Except that, due to Japanese laws, they will censor everything with any pubic hair in it. Then again, shaved pussy and offbeat music go together nicely.

‘Shy,’ ‘proper,’ ‘politically correct,’ ‘distinguished’ are just not the words used to describe this man. In fact, most people quite often would go with, ‘vulgar,’ ‘uncouth,’ ‘improper’ and a ‘highly charged ball of beer fueled sexual energy.’ I mean, we’re talking about a guy, whose nickname is “Sketchy.” Speaking of which, he also happens to be the only person I know who’s named ‘Racci.’ Never could a person be more appropriately named.

I met him approximately fourteen years ago when I went to go cover an old band of his from Atlanta doing a show in Cocoa Beach, Florida when I was running a fanzine out of Tampa. It was a weird venue, and honestly, the most I can remember of that night was they wouldn’t turn off the smoke machine and it made for horrible photos. We were introduced at that show, but didn’t really pass more than a few words.

A few weeks later, one of my friends, who was super into him at the time, asked me to go with her to see his band up in Atlanta, GA. I figured I’d get some better live photos than the previous shots to go with my review. I ended up being pretty much a third wheel and went out to the stairwell to drink some beer alone when my friend left the hotel leaving Racci and me on the stairway enjoying conversation. That was our very first discussion and the beginning of a very hilariously awesome friendship. All over some girl, some beer and some conversations at a Hampton Inn. You ever have snapshots of your memories? This stairwell with two people and a case of beer, is one of mine.

Skip ahead a few years, and I’m living in Los Angeles and he’s in Tampa. His former band, Genitorturers, and my former band, Triggerpimp, are doing a few shows together. We’re betting beers like poker chips, taking hilarious photos that scare even us later, wrecking motorcycles in parking lots, flashing each other from behind curtains during shows, shaving heads and more or less, catching up while having a blast doing so. The snapshot of this moment would be him and I sitting on the walkway of the Maritime Hall in San Francisco outside the bus, both drinking a Pabst, covered in stage make-up and sweat, laughing our asses off, cuddled up under a huge jacket in the cold complaining about the gas station across the street and their lack of alcoholic beverages, i.e. Pabst Blue Ribbon beer.

Years later, he’s in Dope… Touring… More touring… Late night phone calls… I see with pride how this talented boy became an amazingly phenomenal man. I now hear his name mentioned in awe from circles of musicians and fans alike. I see his face in magazines. It’s a bit unbelievable. This boy that I would share beer with fourteen years ago would become a man known for his extraordinary talent and live show, as well as his crazy backstage antics.

Now, he’s currently touring with Wednesday 13, of Murderdolls and Frankenstein Drag Queen of Planet 13 fame, in lieu of the album Fang Bang released on September 12th here in the states. I don’t often interview friends, because they tend to make for lengthy and awkward interviews, but in this case, well, with our history, it makes for one hell of a read. Especially when we both have been drinking and there’s a ton of truth to uncover. Then again, we’ve never had to be drinking, to sling some dirt or let our hair down. Neither one of us has any shame.

So enough with the pretty poetry, time to get to the real meat of this interview. Open yourself up a Pabst, grill a steak, put on some AC/DC and rev your engines… Here is Mr. Racci “Sketchy” Shay…

TC: Is this going to be too invasive? (referring to the placement of the recording device)
Racci: I’m getting a boner.
TC: No, you’re not… Damn, do you smell that?
Racci: Smell this. (farting)
TC: That smells like lima beans. No, seriously, come on, do you smell that?
Racci: Now I’m really getting a boner.
TC: Is it the sexy musk?
Racci: Yes, I definitely have a boner. (pauses) This is really not “professional.”
TC: Um, this is Blue Blood Magazine, they like boners.
Racci: Then they’re going to love this interview.

TC: Hear the tour’s going great, how much longer you out there?

Racci: I don’t know a couple more weeks and then we’re off to Europe early September.
TC: Anything planned for after Europe?
Racci: I’m hoping to do a lot more slut fucking. (laughing) You know, I’m kind of on a roll right now, and I’m hoping that things continue to go in that direction…

TC: Now I get asked this a lot, and I’ll admit, I’ve given some hilarious stories to this, because they never seem to want to accept the truth. What the hell kind of name is ‘Racci?’

Racci: Well, the true story is not as fun as the actual definition of the word, ‘racy.’ The true story is that my father is a racecar driver and that’s my real name and no one ever seems to want to believe it. When I was in high school people used to make fun of me for having that name and I hated it. Once I started playing rock and roll I realized that it was a pretty rock and roll name. If you look it up in the dictionary, you know, take out a ‘C’ and the ‘I’ and add a ‘Y’ and, it means, well… how should I word this?
TC: (laughing) ‘Racy’ means something sexually risqué or suggestive…
Racci: Yeah, this is what you do, why don’t you transcribe the definition and put it in this interview, and then we can pretend that I just said the definition.
TC: Why don’t I just put in everything you just said because it’s a bit funnier…
Racci: Fine, that’s actually great. I’m just a little sick and am feeling a little lazy.

TC: Anyone who’s ever been backstage at a show with you, KNOWS you always have something hilarious going on… Okay, give me a highlight reel of some of the antics so far on this tour.

Racci: (evil laughter) You realize that the tour manager across the room just smiles from ear to ear, from having to put up with it. Here’s an interesting story of what just happened in Cleveland. (The tour manager then starts laughing and leaves the room shaking his head.) I had, I don’t know, about a dozen girls or so on the bus, and I’m raising hell listening to David Allen Coe…
TC: (laughing) Wait, which song?
Racci: Oh, who knows? We celebrate his entire catalog. Anyways, I began singing one of the songs through the tip of my penis, so my penis is actually singing the song…
TC: (laughing loudly)
Racci: Then I started playing the banjo part with my penis, like my penis was the actual banjo.
TC: Well, your penis has a lot of… diversity…
Racci: Yeah, well, we’ll get to that in a bit…
TC: (laughing) Why are you calling it a ‘penis?’ it’s big enough to be called a ‘cock.’ You can say ‘cock.’
Racci: I would say that only you would know, but you know, a lot of other people know that as well. So if you say so and they say so, then fine, I have a ‘cock.’ So back to the story…
TC: Yes, so you were playing banjo with your cock, or better Racci’s playing banjo with his cock…
Racci: (laughing) Yes, so some people on the bus got disgusted and left…
TC: Disgusted by you?
Racci: (laughing harder) See that’s how I thin out the herd, to see who can deal with the ‘sketchy’…
TC: To see who’s the dirtiest hooker on the bus?
Racci: Exactly, or ‘hookers,’ plural, specifically plural.
TC: Did you have to slutpunch any of them?
Racci: I slutpunch them all in the baby maker all the time.
TC: (laughing)
Racci: So, I figured I would test the waters, picked up a bottle of Jack Daniels, and slammed the rest of it. Sit in the middle of the room and then pissed in the bottle. One or two more people left the room when they saw that. Then I said, “All right here we go”. I tipped the bottle back and drank the piss, and about five people left. I figured who was left was ‘ready.’
TC: (laughing harder)
Racci: See that’s how I test out the sluts, to make sure that they are ‘Sketchy Worthy,’ you know? If they are “down with the sketchiness.”
TC: (laughing)
Racci: There are just too many stories to tell. (laughing) I have this costume I like to put on. Like I’ve got my rebel flag thong and I have a rebel flag that I tie around my neck as a cape. Wednesday and I went to a toy store like a week ago and bought ourselves some kid’s police riot helmets. So that’s now my official super hero costume, after the sketchiness, and when I want to get everyone off of the bus. I’ll crank up “Battle Axe” by Quiet Riot really loud and try to aggravate the fuck out of people. Usually doesn’t work though, it usually backfires. They all just grab me and rip the costume off me.
TC: (laughing) Yeah, I can imagine how that could happen.

TC: For the people, who are just hearing about you for the first time, give them a little Racci 101…

Racci: Back in the early 90’s, I was in a gothic/glam/metal, whatever you want to call it, called Shok L’Amour. From there I went out and spent about five or six years with the Genitorturers which were glorious years of debauchment. After that, I spent five seasons with Dope. Then Wednesday and I were partying one night at a Genitorturers show in Orlando and we destroyed the dressing room. He started smashing coffee pots and I took a shit in the middle of the room. Gen got a little mad, but she knows that it was ‘Sketchy’, and “Racci’s going to do what he’s going to do.” You know, like, the old saying “Does a bear shit in the woods?” It’s more like “Does a Racci shit in the dressing room?”
TC: (laughing) Yes… Yes, he does.
Racci: (laughing) So we decided it was time that we play together and it’s been full throttle ever since. We’re just having fun. I’ve enjoyed all of the bands that I’ve been in, but there’s been a lot of ‘seriousness’ that went with that. Not to say, that we don’t care about what we’re doing, but right now, we just want to have fun. We just want to be Motley Crue on the Shout at the Devil tour and that’s just what we’ve been doing. We’ve just raised hell, total hell so far.

TC: As an often touring musician who really loves his job, what’s the hardest part about being on the road?

Racci: Fucking sound checks! Jesus Christ! I’d like to be specific with that. It’s the ‘Hurry up and wait!’ That is the most painful thing about being in the music business. PERIOD. Its always “We’ve got to go. Got to go! Got to go! Got to go! (pauses) Okay, now wait here for the next hour.” It doesn’t matter if you’re on tour, in the studio, at a photo or video shoot. It’s the same old scenario. (pauses) No, actually, the worst thing about touring is when all the booze is gone and it’s 5 AM and you can’t get anymore. Bus calls are pretty shitty, too. Say, if you are on the back of the bus with a “special young lady”…
TC: “Special friend”
Racci: (laughing and doing a Spinal Tap parody) “Yes, this is my ‘special friend’ Cindy…”
TC: (laughing) Truly?
Racci: (laughing) Yes, truly. You know when the bus starts to crank you realize you got to hurry up and do the deed, or else you’re going to be in the bunk by yourself with a laptop later. I do that anyways, but I’d rather just appreciate the moment in the moment. I love doing these types of magazine interviews. Blue Blood rocks.

TC: You’ve played a lot of shows with a lot of other bands through out the years. Who are some of the coolest people to share a stage with?

Racci: I think the coolest person I’ve got to share a stage with is probably one of my best friends, and that’s David Vincent. (Editor’s note: David Vincent is the bassist of Genitorturers.)You know, it’s so difficult to just do one story about him. Actually, I have a good story for you. You might have to condense this a bit. Once upon a time, I had to drive a car down to Tampa for a friend from Atlanta. So I went down and spent a week with David and Gen. (This was when I was in Dope.) We went out drinking and got really hammered, and the drummer that was in the band at the time, Angel, was in the back seat. So we’re driving this car around that doesn’t belong to me. I have no registration, no insurance on it, no nothing. We’re driving in an area that is known for a lot of prostitution, and David goes “Let’s go back to my house real quick…” So we go back to his house, and then he gets back into the car and says, “All right, let’s go back…” We drive back to where these prostitutes were and these are transvestite prostitutes. I’m talking about the most ugly men with tits you’ve ever seen in your life. David then pulls out this cherry bomb that he got in Tijuana when he was on tour with Morbid Angel, and it was like literally a quarter stick of dynamite. So we pull up beside these prostitutes, calling them over to the car, and as they start walking over to the car Dave lights one throwing it out the window. This thing sounds like a shotgun going off. KABOOM! They hit the ground. We take off. It was all good and fine, at this point, but we decided to do it again. You know, there’s police everywhere because it’s a known prostitution area, but we have to do it again. Next thing you know, there’s a cop coming. So I “Dukes of Hazzard” it down this street, then pull down another street, about the time I got to my third turn there’s like thirty cops blocking us off. They then get us out of the car and spread us over the hood. The cop, now, he’s a good ol’ boy, and we’re good ol’ boys, and he says, “I don’t know what the hell you do up there in Georgia, but we don’t throw firearms and rockets and stuff out of a car down here.” (laughing) We said “Look, it was just a prostitute and we were just razzing them.” And the cop says “I know we have a big problem with prostitutes here, but you can’t be throwing dynamite at a prostitute.”
TC and Racci: (laughing)
Racci: So amazingly enough, Dave explains that he only lives a few blocks away and the cops let us go. So we got off. That’s one of my many favorite David moments. Sorry David.

TC: Do you find a lot of Genitorturers and Dope fans getting into Wednesday 13?

Racci: Of course there is a lot of Dope fans into Wednesday 13, from years back, when there was a little, debacle between Edsel and Tripp being in the Murderdolls. What a lot of people don’t realize that I was in the original incarnation of the Murderdolls called The Rejects. So it’s kind of like a close-knit family that has some bad blood because Tripp and Edsel hated each other at the time. At the end of the day, though, the fans translate over. As far the Genitorturers fans go, I think, I’ve seen a lot of Genitorturers fans out on this tour, but most of them are people who knew me from I was in the band, and that’s the main reason they’ve come out, because it’s more of a family type of thing, a society, that people are involved in. But there are some similarities that I think that Genitorturers fans could appreciate in Wednesday 13.

TC: Okay, you’ve done this officially in a few mediums and forums, but there seems to still be a lot of confusion amongst the fans… Dish it; what’s the dirt on Dope?

Racci: (whistles) I’m going to say for the record, right off the bat, a lot of people have been asking me on this tour why I quit Dope. What I’ve been saying and what really keeps me from opening my mouth up too much, is a great analogy. Have you ever fucked someone for a really long time and you just got really sick of fucking them and had to just go and fuck somebody else? That’s kind of where I was. You know, it’s like, during that time while you are fucking somebody, all you do is argue because you get bitter about this or that, and it’s like, you just kind of need to move onto something fresh. I mean, I could go on all day with things that I disagreed with one or other members of the band, and I’m sure that they can do the same. It’s definitely a shit-slinging scenario that neither them nor I are interested in getting into, but I think that’s really the bulk of it. Sometimes you just need to go fuck somebody new. Nothing like some good strange.

TC: So what does the future hold for Racci?

Racci: I am hoping in the couple hours to be having sex with you.
TC: (laughing Don’t you mean licking my ass like a bowl full of ice cream?
Racci: (laughing) Yes, maybe put some chocolate syrup on it.
TC: (laughing hard) So you want my ass to be sticky?
Racci: (laughing) It’s going to be when I’m done with you.
TC: I really shouldn’t expect too serious of an answer to this one.
Racci: No, no you really shouldn’t.

TC: To be interesting, I’ve come up with some name association questions for you. Basic gist, I say a word and you tell me the first word that comes to your mind. Normally, I would only ask for just one word, the first one that comes to mind, but I feel with you, well, I have to bend this rule. So just how about the first sentence that comes to mind.

Racci: Yeah, that’s probably best.

Steak: Pabst Blue Ribbon
Pabst Blue Ribbon: Steak
David Allen Coe: “Don’t bite the dick that fucks you honey”
Star Star: “I’ve got a lover with a nylon grip, and I’m still loving that same old pig”
Sketchy: I am
Chick-Fil-A: The best food, next to pussy, I’ve ever put in my mouth
Matches: Usually in the end of my cock
TITAYS!!!: HEY BALLS!!! (laughing)
Cock: cum on her face
Slutpunch: Straight to the baby maker!!!
Spinal Tap: “These go to eleven…”
Caddyshack: “Gunga galunga gunga galunga”
Tommy Lee: Sometimes you just have to answer these seriously. He’s the biggest influence on my career.

TC: Okay, now for some “Either/Or’s”…

Ramones or Misfits: Misfits
Kiss or Motley Crue: Motley Crue
Creepers or Converse: Recently, Creepers
Jack Daniels or Jagermeister: JACK FUCKING DANIELS
Pabst or… (pauses) Okay, fine, I’ll just give you that one.: That’s fine by me!
Drinking or Dope: Definitely drinking
Chick-Fil-A or Steak: Chick-Fil-A
Ron Burgundy or Ricky Bobby: Ron Burgundy because he’s the balls.
Racci or Sketchy: Right now, I’ll officially say ‘Sketchy’ is back.

TC: Okay, here’s a hypothetical question… You drink yourself sober, and as you are calling it a night, down comes a your fairy rock father. He sits down next to you and says, “I’ll grant you three wishes and allow you to make one law.” You turn to him and say…

Racci: Three wishes AND a law? A law?
TC: (laughing) Yes, you know those things you love to break.
Racci: (laughing) Well, for the wishes… One, I’d want another bottle of Jack Daniels just so that I can see if I can get any more drunk. Two, I want a slut. Three, I want another slut. And the law is, “When the cock comes out its time to start fucking.”

TC: So are there any pieces of advice or wisdom you’d like to share before I call it a night and we get back to drinking some Pabst?

Racci: Yes, because we need to close this out properly. I have some quotes that I live by, and I would love to share them with others.

In the immortal words of Mick Shrimpton, from Spinal Tap, “As long as I have sex and drugs, I think I can do without the rock and roll.”

Also from Spinal Tap, from Viv Savage, “Have a good time, all the time, and if you can’t fuck them, then fuck them.”

Then my own personal words of wisdom:

“When in doubt, just throw a turd.”

“When people piss you off, go shit on their porch.”

and, the most important…

“Suck it.”

That’s it this interview is over.

Wednesday 13 European Tour Dates:

Oct 4 2006 11:00P Magasin 4 Brussels
Oct 5 2006 11:00P Mean Fiddler London

Wednesday 13 US Tour Dates opening for Alice Cooper:

Oct 20, 2006 Jim Thorpe, PA Penn’s Peak
Oct 21, 2006 New York, NY Roseland Ballroom
Oct 23, 2006 Washington, DC Warner Theatre
Oct 24, 2006 Lakewood, NJ Strand Theatre
Oct 25, 2006 Rochester, NY Auditorium Theatre
Oct 27, 2006 Reading, PA Sovereign Perf. Arts Ctr.
Oct 28, 2006 Atlantic City, NJ House of Blues
Oct 29, 2006 Boston, MA Orpheum Theatre

Please get more information on Racci’s band, Wednesday 13 at:
http://www.wednesday13.com
http://www.myspace.com/officialwednesday13

Racci uses Pearl Drums, Vic Firth Sticks, Instanbul Alchemy Cymbals, Coffin Case, and Dirtbag Clothing.

I only met Rozz Williams once.

A bunch of the Blue Blood crew were in Los Angeles, celebrating the release of Blue Blood #5. That was the first full color issue of the magazine. I’d used a comic book printer who did high quality art repro and had no problem printing depictions of nude women. Heck, they actually also printed tons of publications involving sexualized eviscerations of women. (Yes, we were doing cross-promo with Glenn Danzig’s extreme Verotik at the time and he used the same printer.)

But the printer had had some concerns about Blue Blood’s content. First, they were very concerned that there was bestiality. I was like, WTF? They are holding up printing my magazine because they are concerned about the bestiality? Where do they think I have bestiality? Then I realized that I had written a fiction piece about the drummer in a dykey industrial band who gets with a werewolf. I was proud of the story and it was illustrated with elegant photographs by the famous Gunter Blum. I was thrilled that someone as huge as Gunter Blum wanted to be in Blue Blood. I really didn’t want to remove the werewolf piece and I really wanted to get my magazine printed. So I call the printer ready to do battle.

It turned out that the werewolf erotic fiction was not the problem at all. NOFX had sent Blue Blood a blow-up sheep. At the time, NOFX was unpopular with a lot of music journalists because they didn’t like to do interviews. I thought sending me a Love Ewe (get it?) was a billion times cooler than any interview could be, so I thought they were totally cool. Forrest Black shot me using a strap-on on the NOFX Love Ewe and we ran a picture of it, as part of a piece on NOFX, in Blue Blood’s bits and pieces entertainment section. Just looking at the film, the printer had thought this was actual bestiality. After the magazine was printed and shipped, the printer told me they were very concerned that I had male nudity in the magazine. That was undeniable and not about to change, so I only printed one issue there.

The issue came out, despite the printer’s reservations, and it looked great. So the Blue Blood crew headed out to Los Angeles to celebrate. On Rozz Williams night at the Probe on Highland in Hollywood, California, we were all feeling really good about having gotten the magazine hot off the presses, against so many obstacles. We were meeting so many interesting new people. We were thrilled to be among our own, among people who wouldn’t be pussies about something as funny as fucking what was essentially a punk rock balloon animal.

I went over to where Rozz Williams was holding court and gave him a copy of the new issue. He was shy and sweet. He thanked me. He told me he had enjoyed the earlier issues and did not have this one yet. Maybe he was just being polite, but the thing which sticks in my mind is that he took a moment to be kind. But, when I walked around the club, there were all these people saying the most terrible things about Rozz Williams. I don’t mean they were criticizing him for being a little too into Charles Manson and Jeffrey Dahmer or something. I mean, people were just tearing the man down, saying he was past it, he was old, he looked ugly, his music didn’t matter, and on and on.

In point of fact, as an unbiased visitor from out of town, I feel qualified to say that Rozz Williams looked ethereally beautiful. I don’t recall what he was wearing. My attention was drawn to his face and the encounter was brief, but his makeup was deft and creative for a man to be wearing. He looked timeless, not old. His music had made a difference to a large percentage of the people in the room. Even to people who were not big fans of Christian Death or Shadow Project, Rozz Williams was an important creative driving force in the West Coast deathrock scene and his influence helped launch so many bands and so many cool creative people.

Fast forward a few years. Rozz Williams has committed suicide. Nightclubs in Los Angeles throw mournfests for him and they get good turnout. People speak his name reverently, they press fist to chest and say, “mi hermano.” I’m probably spelling the Spanish incorrectly, but you get the idea. (They might not be pronouncing the Spanish either.) I remembered the crush of people running Rozz Williams down. Although the Probe was one of the biggest nightclubs I had ever been to and they thought the man was worth throwing a night for, while he was still alive, most of their patrons couldn’t support someone who’d made such a difference . . . not while he was still drawing breath.

People often ask me to pin down precisely who Blue Blood is for. Gothic, body modification, deathrock, punk, fandom, glam, rivethead, ad infinitum. Really, Blue Blood is for people who have moved through a lot of subcultures. For people who have that maverick something different. Who feel a certain attraction in a lot of those scenes, but who do not feel wholly satisfied in any particular one. Blue Blood is for people who enjoy exploring and experiencing the creative fringes, and the cultures which thrive there, but don’t want to cram themselves into some cookie-cutter mold.

In the deathrock scene, it is rare that the people who have accomplished a lot get very much credit for it. The thing which made me think of Rozz Williams was noting that a link to BlueBlood.net was removed from Wikipedia’s woefully incomplete and slanted entry on deathrock. Someone had complained that Blue Blood was porn and thus did not belong. First of all, if deathrock is supposed to be for gothic folks with balls, what is anyone doing whining about smut practically designed for them personally? The multitalented Jeremy Meza’s late lamented deathrock mag Ghastly described Blue Blood as “It’s the one you’ve been waiting for! Death rock porn! Punk smut!” (For years, I used to run that quote with an ellipses in place of the word porn because I am troubled by the semantics, but that is a subject for another article.) Secondly, BlueBlood.com is where the naughty pictures are. BlueBlood.net is where we run lots of free articles and free forums and free promo tools for the scene. Blue Blood magazine in print had both deathrock music press and erotic photo sets in the same place. Glad I could clear that up for anyone that all was not patently obvious to. A bizarre percentage of the Wikipedia entry is on the Long Beach club Release the Bats. Blue Blood were huge early boosters of that club night. We shot tons of photos there. At great personal cost, I might add, as we were using film. We hyped Release the Bats both online and in print. Release the Bats was kind enough to host the re-launch of BlueBlood.net party. Whether someone thinks Blue Blood is the best thing to happen to deathrock since Sex Gang Children and 45 Grave or not, the deathrock connection is undeniable. At some point, perhaps I may attempt to list all of the luminaries, of the deathrock world, Blue Blood has done something with. I’ll include Jeremy Meza and Ghastly, although neither is mentioned in the Wikipedia entry for deathrock. Viva Britannica.

There are a lot of appealing things about the deathrock scene. I love a non-wussified gothic look with yummy torn fishnet and leather and Alien Sex Fiend has smacked me from the stage with an obscene balloon. (Recurring motif. I guess there is something about me which makes bands want to press lewd balloons against my flesh.) The appeal of deathrock is why so many of us have spent time figuring out the hair products needed to create a devil lock or ordering expensive import CDs. But the problem with that scene, like many others which remain subculture, is that the nail which sticks out gets hammered down.

Blue Blood is for the nails which stick out.

If you are in Hotlanta right now, you’d best be getting ready to strap it on tonight. Blue Blood board members have already seen some shots of Kellie and Scar (and Pika) getting geared up to party. There is a new fetish magazine in the U.S. called Buckle and they are throwing a shindig tonight.

I haven’t seen the magazine yet, so I can’t swear that it is great, but they’ve got some good people on board. Buckle’s first ish featured photographer Steve Diet Goedde. Blue Blood has shared exhibit space with Steve more than once and, more importantly, he was the first person (besides Forrest Black of course) to tell me that I really needed to set up a membership site. Steve’s advice has been terrific. Buckle’s second issue featured photographer Kelly Lind and his co-conspirator makeup artist Alex LaMarsh who are responsible for a whole lot of sets on BlueBlood.com. We’re very excited that issue number three of Buckle feature’s Blue Blood’s own Scar 13 on the cover. Blue Blood hotties are covergirls. The shot is by photographer Brian Bothwell who model Kerry Scarey tells me got his first magazine credit ever when I chose an image he shot of her to print in Swag magazine.

So it seems like Buckle Magazine should be of interest to Blue Blood folks. My only reservation about it, aside of course from not having seen it yet, is that I’ve seen a lot of statements online to the effect that Buckle is going to blow Marquis and Skin Two out of the water in the States. While I’m genuinely thrilled to see another magazine outlet for work and people I like, I’m not thrilled by hostile competition between people who should be working together for a common good. I’m biased perhaps because Forrest Black and I have provided content (photography, writing, columns, cover, etc.) for the last twenty issues of Marquis. I’m biased perhaps because, although my writing had already been published all over the world when Skin Two first published me, Skin Two was the very first magazine (besides Blue Blood of course) to publish photography by Forrest Black and yours truly. I’m hoping the competitive-sounding statements aren’t actually coming from the Buckle folks. Given who has been involved so far, I’m guessing and hoping that Buckle will have what it takes to be cool because it is cool and not because it is more something or other than existing major fetish publications.

So the jury is still out, but some hella hot babes are going to be performing at the Buckle Ball tonight. So go shake your booty at the Jungle Club right now, if you are in Atlanta, Georgia. Check Buckle out and watch for more coverage of what they are up to.