the CSATFCWB Story, Foreword
While wildly popular in Canada's Northwest Territories, Until We Get Kicked Out Of This Town Again: The Clark Schpiell and the Furry Cockroaches Without Butts Story, never really took off in the US, despite the numerous gigs the band played in the Science-Fiction section of the Waldenbooks at which David worked.
What follows is the foreword from this monumental book. Enjoy.
It is only fair to mention that, though Until We Get Kicked Out Of This Town Again: The Clark Schpiell and the Furry Cockroaches Without Butts Story is billed as an unauthorized biography, the facts are that all material was verified by all members of the band and many who knew them, that the band gave me complete freedom to talk to them, read their journals and letters, conduct research and even perform medical experiments if need be, and when the tales of their exploits became almost too nauseating for this seasoned journalist to handle, they even offered to pay me to finish the book. Their only insistence was that it be called an "unauthorized biography." Their other request, that I write under the pseudonym Albert Goldman, was denied by me for ethical reasons.
I first began listening to CSATFCWB when their manager, Boy-Nett, called me and asked me to write this book. He said he had read my prior publication, Mad Libs #28, and found it "observant, insightful, thought-provoking, and the only Mad Libs that's actually funny even if you don't use swear words." Flattered, I asked him to send me some of the band's work, since I had never heard of them and his description of their music as "the kind of music any geniuses would have played in 1988 if they didn't know how to play an instrument" didn't really help me pinpoint their sound.
Two weeks later, a parcel arrived: a series of cassettes wrapped in an old mustard-stained sweater and circumnavigated several times over with duct tape. I popped the cassettes into my Walkman while sitting at the breakfast table and was immediately assaulted by a barrage of sound that I knew was music only because Boy-Nett had referred to them as a "band." After it finally stopped, I assumed the first song was over, rewound it and listened again. I glanced at the liner notes on the cassette. I had just heard their famous hit and standard encore number Vomitus Erectus.
Years later, I was to become immersed in the band. Release parties, live albums, outtakes, interviews past and present, concert videos, and countless anecdotes from people who knew them and many who didn't but only heard about them from others who thought they heard something about them once . . . All of that combined to form this tale of decadence, excess, and needlessly offensive incoherent music.
This is the Clark Schpiell and the Furry Cockroaches Without Butts story.