A STRONGHOLD OF PROFESSIONAL ARTISTS, MUSICIANS, WRITERS, AND CERTIFIABLE A-1 LUNATIC GUERRILLA PROMOTERS OF OUR GREAT FROZEN TUNDRA. WE GOT WHAT YOU'RE LOOKIN FOR....

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FOR ALL LAWYERS AND CONCERNED CITIZENS

THE METHODS OF PERSUASION USED BY THE ISSUE ZERO MAGAZINE "STREET TEAM" ARE COMMITTED BY A FACTION OF OUR ADMINISTRATION, AND THOUGH WE SUPPORT THEM IN VOICE, THEIR ACTIONS ARE NOT OUR OWN.

OBJECTIVES SUCH AS:
1 STICKER PLACEMENT ON SOUGHT AFTER, GENRE AND STYLE-SPECIFIC PRODUCTS, I.E. CD'S, CLOTHING, BOOKS AND SIGNS,
2 USE OF STENCILS AND AEROSOL, INK,
3 POSTERS AND TICKET TAPING,
4 RAISING AWARENESS IN ANY FORM, AND IN ANY ELEMENT, OR MEDIA.

THESE ARE THE ACTIONS OF RENEGADE, GUERRILLA PROMOTIONS OFFICERS WHO RAISE OUR FLAG.

THX, MGMT

Thursday, January 31, 2008

Issue Zero: Rock The Dead

Anyone else like making beats, fuck it, I do, and in this world where everyone and their fucking grandmother is a rapper/singer/performer there is no shortage of people looking for a good beat to spit their bullshit over. Here is my latest beat. It has heavy samples taken from traditional Asian music as well as jungle noises, like flying birds and animal calls. listen close, the sound is thick. The end result is a heavy-as-fuck trudging through the swamp style sound with a slow driving bass line. My sister heard it and said it sounded like the sound track for a demon army coming out of hell. I guess you really have to hear it and make you own opinion:

From Hell.mp3

And if you like that, well then, maybe you'll like this:
Zombie Disco shirt. If the buzz is high enough expect production

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

ISSUE ZERO: The Jimmer; OFFICIALLY A LEGEND

They say it takes a village to raise a child, and if that's true, then I had some influence form other planets, too. When people say that it takes more muscles and effort to make a grimace then a smile, they didn't take into account how easy it is to hold a gruge, when you don't need even a single digit to squeeze it. Similarly, you can't bury a hatchet if it's metaphorical, and really when would you be burying a hatchet anyways? Thats right...
You can't tell me that there is a God, and then tell me that revenge and justafiable retrabution is a man-made concept, especially when you consider that irony is a random consequence.
In the defence of a man that, not only held a large knife collection and used to collect unpiad monies for unnnamed parties from definately unnameable peopele, I say to nobody in particular, anybody that dies with a secret, passes it on.
Here's a couple from the man, not the myth.
  • When making a "heaters" pizza, always pour bannana pepper juice on it to burn the customers asshole the next day.
  • You can drink as much as you want, and do what ever you want, but if you loose a fight, you're fired.
  • If your general gait and smell of war excreating from your brow can't offer the same level of intimadation that the beard of a lynx, coke-bottle glasses, and a hellahuge beer gut do, then you're clearly doing something wrong.
  • Always size your oppenent up against the door of a pizza oven.

Wise words, Jimbo, Wise words.

Get some fuckin sleep, buddy, I know you ain't Restin' In Peace.

Monday, January 28, 2008

ISSUE ZERO: POINT OF NO RETURN

I really like the way that sounds.
Everybody passes it the second they've been conceived.
That's just the way it is. For all you baby fetishers out there, tough shit, you don't get to go back, You're just lying to yourselves.
And wearing diapers.

ISSUE ZERO: Gorilla Monsoon; The Anti-Bar.

You know you found a good place to drink, no wait, you know you've found a good spot to spend the rest of your day, when you enter the Gorilla Monsoon, the tiny door to the west of the Horseshoe Tavern on Queen street, in Toronto. I'll tell you why. If you've ever been to a place where you are not the only one looking to get waaay too excited at, like, 2 in the afternoon, and your new-found merry band of pranksters all happen to be on the other side of the bar, then you know what I'm talking about. And, by the way, if the bartender happens to have to get out of his cushy completely horizontal position in front of the big-screen TV in the middle of an episode of the Simpsons, for your thirst of blood-thinner, you know you're askin' for a conversation that you had better have spent most of your life in "smart-ass comment land" in order to defend your acquisition. But by then, you pretty much got what the hell you came to any bar for. You must have at least an "A" game on the back burner ready for that crowd. the Management and like-minded hosts are likely to treat you with the type of respect you'd get when you go to someones frat-house. By that I mean, really nice, pretty inviting and over all just a bunch of fun people. But I'll tell you this, a hippopotamus also looks like something you'd wanna grab by the ears and play with until you become a part of the statistic that informs us all there's more attacks by those fat swamp-caddies then sharks. An example... I was in there for their "open mike" night on a dangerous Monday, where I'd been seen drinking Devils Pale Ale Tallboys just prior, when it had cam to the attention of the staff that a woman of some vulgar demur, violated the bathroom. She left her phone in there too, which came as cause for excitement amongst the loyal locals who, like myself, all had a good idea on how to make it smell funny when she got it back. But because there wasn't enough time to come with a decent plan of revenge, we all just took turns flipping her off from well within ear range.
Let this be a lesson to everyone, everywhere. Beware Viral Vigilantism.
And to the Monsoon, Cheers.

Sunday, January 27, 2008

ISSUE ZERO; before your time.

Back in the day, and I mean way back in the day, I used to rip on things that hadn't even been invented yet while I rocked a mix-tape waiting at the bus stop to go to the old-school. YABEDAAXSMBDY. str8 ^

Saturday, January 26, 2008

ISSUE ZERO: dance, or get the fuck outta my way


Why do some people go to a concert, especially for those that play some funky GAT DAM music, and not dance? I don’t get it. Its like they came just to get pissed off about me bumping into them while in the throws of getting down. I fuckin hate wall crawlers. I plan on seeing George Clinton at the Phoenix on feb. 25. If there’s even one person not dancing, I’m going to jail for assault with a plastic cup.

Too many times have I gone to a show and have to apollogize to hapless douche-bag for funkin into their comfort zone. What in the curly goatee of Satan did they even come for? Why would someone pay to go see a show where social interaction is a bare fuckin minimum, when they know people like me are coming? I feel like getting a hundred people i know to go just so we can flash-mob them and pass the murder-one buck like an "I-DUNNO" shrug makin a wave like the ones at the ACC during a Raptor sweep.


P.S. Should you be one of those people reading this right now, please, do us funky-folk a favor and go kill yourself real messy-like in a bus terminal tiolet stall. But don't tell anybody.

issue zero: Clutch @ the phoenix, Feb. 24. 08

You ever go to a concert and way before you get to the palce you know already you are going to get hurt, do something stupid and probably get ejected unceremoniously?
Me too.
Let's hope for our hero that this is not the case. This will be the fourth time that I'll see these guys perform in our fanGATDAMtastic town, and five if you include that commadore show in Vancity back in '00.
I was born into a dryway bucket during a sound check at a lovely ear-rupturing 110 decibles, I fear no evil, and there are subwoofers from the KEE to bala which had horns big enough for me to violate with my head. So, when I say that I'm going to have a great time during the show, is likely to be translated by my merry band of loose cannons as a "barricade the Green room, DEADMAN cometh."
I have this tendency to gate-crash. It's a bad habit my old man got me on to. Who the hell wants to pay to get in anywhere? Better question, once you have to pay to get in, doesn't that pretty much entitle you to the food and beer at the backstage party?
You're GAT DAM right it does.

Issue Zero: Release the Zombie Hordes.


There's nothing wrong with me. I'm a well adjusted member of society. I'll hold the door for people, give the elderly my seat on the bus, and try my damnedest not to violate every starbucks I enter. But nobody's perfect. Sometimes we slip up, and a naughty thought enters our heads. Sometimes when we should be doing something else, like paying attention to how much over the speed limit you're going, like holding on to the wood as it goes through the band saw, like the total disregard for fellow human beings when it comes to the volume knob (guilty!)... the list goes on.
My favorite fantasy, next to a couple involving my lovely fiance, is the one where someone in a crowd drops dead, right there. and then, just when the mob around the infected is at its thickest, that dead guy would come to, with the look that I get at some steakhouse at dinner time in their eyes, and just start biting and clawing at people. Fuck it, it's my dellusion, they'd start eating themselves, but likely that wouldn't happen until they ran out of screaming, panic-stricken, meals-in-sneakers, which i'm deducing, wouldnt be too far away.
This fantasy happens to strike my fancy every time shopping mania is at its zenith, Christmas, Valentines Day, and some others just to start. but allways whenever I pass a GAP, H&M, MacDonalds, and every single Starbucks.

Friday, January 25, 2008

ISSSUE ZERO: One Per Hour.

I must have drank about 8 shots of Jack Daniels and about 7 beer in about two, maybe three, probably two hours. Nobody lives forever, only in the minds of our audience do we outlive our bodies. I came right to the edge of that chance at terrrible infamy. Good thing Security showed up. Who in the hell came up with Strip Hop? It's like they had no concern for the old-school strip club rules of engagement. First of all, when did they start letting people wear hats in there? Secondly, the last time I heard about somebody getting on stage and not gettting absolutely destroyed by a row of jacked up bouncers was my buddy Steve's birthday in the Bracebridge Albian. Much to my shock and awe, they let dudes wearing hats on the stage. I should be thankful I remember that. That, and sleeping beside a car in the parking lot beside Kennedy's Strip Club, in probably 17 degrees below zero.
Blood Money, if you're reading this, sorry about the ring. And the car ride. And everything else I'm sure I did, but can't remember.
Let this be a lesson, 1 per hour.

Thursday, January 24, 2008

issue zero: a reason to drink.

I don't have brain damage, I know cuz I feel fine. if thats not enough for you you should go to OCAD, and get yourself a really pretentious vocabulary and freeze it in your fridge, wrap it in a towel covered in broken light bulb glass and rape yourself with it. I don't care which hole, just do it.