Skinny Puppy Q+A


Photo by Emile Elizabeth & John Kraw

Last week I got to interview one of my biggest creative/musical inspirations, Nivek Ogre of Skinny Puppy. He talked about his fascination with the horror genre, the end of the world and a secret project he’s working on. He also hinted at a new ohGr album.

Here’s a snippet:

You speak out on a number of issues, like animal rights and, most recently, the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear disaster in 2011. From the band’s onset, what was foremost in your mind – being an artist or being an activist?

I never considered myself an artist. Animals obviously were one of the most important things to me because the abuse of animals when I was young was horrifying to me, and factory farming, vivisection – all of these things.

The idea of Skinny Puppy at the beginning was life through a dog’s eyes and seeing things and not being able to really speak, and you just bark, you just yell, and that’s all you could do. So that kind of was the initial thing, as well as a childish sort of need to want to scare people or freak people out or wake people up.

Click here to read the full Q+A I did for Reverb.

I also had a chance to catch their show with Youth Code on Nov. 18 in Boulder. Click here for my review.


Fall Mist

May I present to you Fall Mist, a collaborative song helmed by the very talented JohnnyOsi. The song includes some spoken word poetry by me.

Full credits:

Upright Bass / Rhodes – David Thomas Bailey

Flute – Douglas Blease

Spoken Word – Steve Shultz

Rapidy Raps / Production / Etc – JohnnyOsi

Live instruments recorded at Uneven Studios

Hear (and read) more from JohnnyOsi at

Verse I (JohnnyOsi):
Heartless mechanics prodded by a mouse click
Screaming through air, silent
Can you imagine the terror
When destruction can fall from the clouds
With no warning, no notice
Just sliver of hope in
A corporal with Carpel Tunnel syndrome
Who never has to look you in the eye
Or calculate the effect on those you left behind
I Hope he got his math right and didn’t miss a whisper in his ear
Telling him to pull back cause we got the wrong dossier
But even with the right one
Even if you got the guy you meant to steal the light from
Even if you happened to miss the kids playing ball right beside him
Without a proper trial it’s still fucking murder
And even then
It’s still fucking murder

Verse II (Steve Shultz):
Inflatable raft
filled with air from exhausted lungs
holes patched with chewing gum
smashing turtle shells
against salt water dreams
trying to get at the meat inside

origami toothpick
picking at cavities
and rotting things
stuck between
here and there
drinking kings bath water

who’s gonna bail out our boat?
folder paper that it is
fashion unfashionable hat
for this bitter day
watch the leaves fall
like so many regrets

Verse III (JohnnyOsi):
Yes, more than mere speculation
many a machination are forming in this waste nation
Pull the country over, it’s time we had a talk
There’s 545 people responsible for all
Our woes
A colossal collection of rotting ass folds
Perched upon hill
With our voice box vibrating between their thighs
Their getting off on vox populi
(you lie, you lie)
We got these neat little boxes that do math really fast
We could count every vote on every issue
Don’t you wish you could put two cents in on some relevant shit

Our Constitution was draft
before the Telegraph the Telephone the Teletubbies
Twitter was a carrier pigeon
communication en masse didn’t exist
But it does now, So
You corporate campaign motherfuckin clowns
Are free to go.

Verse IV (Steve Shultz):
Thirst for blood
hunger for peace


I am
to the tragedies
enacted, broadcasted.
violence nests in the vessel
of our hearts and minds; dormant.
guns, knives, bombs, steady hands;
our species is doomed.
(numb) I can no
longer pray
or cry.

I stand in the newsroom
as we celebrate
a Pulitzer
care of a theater shooting
in Aurora
simultaneously, we watch
as footage from Boston
rolls in

We live in a place
growing more afraid
to face

I don’t want to go outside
elsewhere, others locked down

I am watching my steps
and the steps
of my children
on the lookout for fear

death lurks
but if all I do is spend my time
looking for the corners,
I won’t see convergence

it’s hard
it gets harder

are these eyes blurry, or is the beacon gone?

(who’s gonna bail out our boat?
folder paper that it is)