Pink Reason is CDR-SC-YR1 Number One

Ignore the date above, I intended to review Pink Reason the moment after I heard it for the first time, and now it’s some feature over at the Agit-Reader. So ignore the fuzzy math. I really love this Pink Reason single and thought it appropriate to share the liner notes with those who didn’t get one of these. They are kind of immortal words:

“Three Sixteen is an early recording with one of the very original Pink Reason lineups. Shaun Failure played drums. Tim Triplett on the bass. I played amplified twelve-string acoustic. HFK. Hatefuck Crew. Zone 13 Rejects. Hatefuck. Pink Reason. Desperate Living. All the same, but all different in their own way. This song was recorded in the kitchen of a dope farm in remote Northern Wisconsin. During the recording my roommate “Dirtball” went missing and was assumed to be dead, so the police stopped by. We literally grabbed the cassette out of the 4-track, ran out the door, hopped in the car and were out the driveway before the police could say anything to us. There was probably twenty grand worth of dope in the basement and shotguns hidden beneath our pillows.

Thanks to this interruption the vocals were recorded in Tim’s closet in Green Bay. Shortly after his housemate drove himself into the woods and shot himself in the face. The police again showed up to ask questions. It was a strange and gloomy time.

Sweet Sinister was an ode to a particular substance that helped keep us awake through these rough times. It was recorded in Shaun’s bedroom at an apartment we shared with our friend C. “Reich” who played the handclaps on the recording. “Reich” was a convicted domestic terrorist and a neo-nazi, but most importantly, our friend. 3-D “David Lee Fuckin” Ralph Puke also clapped his hands and provided “ahhhs.” He was the “singer” for a while in Zone 13 Rejects. We asked him to “sing” because he could puke on command. This song has the distinction of being the only Pink Reason song not written by me. I came up with the words, but Shaun wrote the music himself. We were all tight up on speed and slamming Jagermeister and cheap beer (Meister Brau? Mister Beer?). I played bass guitar and sang falsetto. It seemed to make sense at the time. “

Only a few know if this is truth, but all the talk of shotguns, domestic terrorists, and dope farm leads me to believe remote Northern Wisconsin is the wild west or at least Baghdad of the 90’s. All this just reminds me of Jim Shepard’s equally blunt literature. Even if it is fiction, even in the slightest, you sit here and believe it to be true. Dude, write a book.

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