Uncompensated Endorser for the Tiny Man Inside
Have you run out of ways to hate on the government? Do you pine for the days when the fusion of rap and metal was vibrant and angry and rockin' - before Linkin Park left their burning musical bag of dog turds on the doorstep of Rage Against the Machine? Can you think of anyone better than me to recommend a soundtrack for the coming Debaclypse? Well, have I got some music for you. Seriously, I do. It's right here.
First a little background.
In the interest of full disclosure, I am friends with two of the three members of Tiny Man Inside (I cannot vouch for the character, or even the very existence, of the third member), and, as I say to everyone I meet, please do not discredit my friends out of hand based solely on their association with yours truly.
The song featured in the link, "Stain on the Flag," is a re-tooled version of a Cement Babyhead song by the same name. For those not familiar with the Babyhead, they were an Ithaca quartet very much in the RATM image - a band that laid rap-style vocals over hard rock/metal guitar and drums and lashed out at the inequities of political corruption and government cheese. In fact, lead singer Huy Dao once referred to himself aptly on stage as "Zach De La Dao." Huy established quite a reputation as the unofficial barber for the punk and punk-adjacent crowd we hung out with in Ithaca and tried valiantly, though unsuccessfully, to dissuade me from some extremely poor coiffure decisions circa 1995. Oh, and my dad liked him a lot.
Guitarist Mason Wolak has also has deep debaclyptic roots as he spent a year living in my closet on Stewart Ave. (and not in a gay, Vito-from-the-Sopranos sort of way, he actually resided in storage space). Mason was something of a 1990s guitar legend thanks to his band Stab, who were quite the power trio (but not in a gay, Rush sort of way). Stab holds a special place in my heart because they were the first band at my college that I really got into. Going to their shows, I started to really find my way socially and, in a time in my life when I reflected often about my identity, they helped me work through tough questions like, "Drag race til death? Is that what you want?" Oh, and my dad liked him too.
On drums was Doug C. Bacon. Hmmmm. You know that autistic lupine kid who would sit in the back of your class, shout out a non-sequitur once in a while, but beyond that would just stare into space? That was Doug. His impact on my life lingers. He was who renamed America's late fall harvest celebration "Thanks-taking," which I still mark every year like you all do, by gorging myself on gaudy mounds of gravy-slathered excess. The difference is that, where others feign giving thanks, I simply accept that I am acting out this country's perverse imagined birthright to be greedy, repugnant imperialists. So, yeah. Think of Doug as the hairiest of those imperialists you ever did see.
Dan Moon was also in the Babyhead, but I really didn't know him well enough to be snide.
So go listen.
While you're listening, please enjoy these complementary PR photos from the archive. OK, it's been fun shilling like Curt. See you tomorrow.
Huy and Mason w/ Babyhead
Huy likes you
Mason w/ Stab (May 1994)