BEN WEASEL GOT ME IN SHAPE
That’s the title of this piece of “literature”. I briefly thought of the title “Save Ben Weasel” but quickly thought against it. It’s not personal enough. I’m here to express my wholehearted gratitude to Ben Weasel. As the title says, he got me in shape. Let me explain…
We’ll have to drift back to 1997. I was 13 years old, living on a lonely Connecticut street – it was a highway, Route 108 – massive traffic all day – No neighborhood – But I had a backyard and by 13 had developed my musical taste to consist of only punk rock. I got addicted to the Ramones early after hearing “I Wanna Be Sedated” on a TV show – when Green Day hit it big, I had the brains to look at the back of their first record and send away for a catalogue from Lookout! Records. It was a genius move and I binged on The Queers, Mr. T Experience and of course, Screeching Weasel.
The catalogue and a tiny store in Bridgeport, Connecticut called Secret Sounds were my outlet to the world of punk rock. I dug deep and found everything I needed. I was hooked and suddenly the red Peavey tracer guitar I owned became a much more usable tool – I could actually play Ramones tunes as opposed to the technical Aerosmith solos I had previously struggled with. At Secret Sounds I found out about the local Connecticut Punk Rock scene. It was mainly people lingering after the destruction of the legendary 80’s mecca, “The Anthrax” in Norwalk, CT. There were shows at the Tune Inn in New Haven and at teen centers and VFW halls. Soon enough I had my own band at 13, The Severed. All my tunes were fast punk tunes, many of which leaned towards the melodic side I had learned from my mentor, Ben Weasel. Song titles ranged from “I Can’t Stand Her”, “Asshole” and “Acne Face.” (the latter of which I still play to this day with my band Numbskull Freakshow http://www.youtube.com/numbskullfreakshow ).
My name in the band was 20 Questions Mike, due to the insane amount of questions I asked everyone in the scene, just because I was so hungry to learn about it all. The rest of the tunes were written by Stef Cunt, The Severeds’ female bassist. She was a few years older than me and was talented. One song was called “Outta Your Mind” about the mistreatment of Native Americans. The lead singer, Dave Antiwar, wrote songs lyrics like “Equality” and “Antiwar” to our music. Their songs leaned away from my silly punk tunes to political punk. In retrospect, it was an interesting mix – and much to my delight, Ben Weasel agreed with me.
We made a tape called “Off With Their Heads” and I sent it to Ben Weasel. I actually sent it to Panic Button Records with a hand written letter, hoping it would get to Ben. And sure enough, on that busy, lonely Connecticut highway, a gift appeared in my families little red mailbox. A hand written post card from my hero, Ben Weasel. I’m still on the hunt for the actual transcript, it DOES exist in CT somewhere, but here goes from memory, just a few of the words that helped me take a close look at my current band and get me in shape-
“Dear Mike,
We’re not looking to sign bands right now. I generally like the band.
Weed out the weak tunes and keep the vocals in key.”
It meant the world to me. BEN WEASEL, writer of Dingbat, Making You Cry and Celena took the time to write ME about my band? With real advice included, that has helped me and has given me confidence with all of my music projects to date. I can still picture his handwriting, the same handwriting I saw on his records, when I’m trying to decide which song to drop and how to make my voice hit a certain key. After getting that post card, suddenly I realized the world was a lot bigger than that lonely Connecticut highway.
Fast-forward eleven years to 2008. I had long left The Severed, around 98, and tried to start a more melodic, non political band with a new bassist – who quit my new band only to replace me in The Severed – It was my first experience with first hand back stabbing. But I knew it existed from Bens’ liner noted in “Kill The Musicians” that I carried around like a bible. I had tried to make many other bands work, including one with the drummer from The Pist (you’ll find a song by them on Bens’ “Punk USA” comp.) I had graduated from Art School and gotten a certificate in radio. I had a recording machine and wrote and produced a dozen comedy songs that aired on the Howard Stern channels on Sirius Satellite Radio. Some were original, some were parodies, but they all had that snarl and spirit that Ben and punk rock had taught me. I was painting decks at a 50 and over condominium complex, getting bitched at by old folks and saving money to move to California. I had no real plan, only to make a drastic move and hopefully make a living in entertainment in some form or another. During that hot summer of ’08, the only way I got through each sticky workday was with music cranked into my brain. One song I listened to NON STOP was from Screeching Weasels’ album from 2000 – Teen Punks in Heat. It was called “Six Percent.”
“you've gotta get out on your own. you've gotta get out of this stupid town and try to live for once instead of just existing. And I guarantee that pretty soon you're gonna see that things aren't half as good or as bad as they used to seem now that you're a thorn in the side of society; now that you're part of the problem; the ruination of a system that keeps you down, steals your money and your hope and then smacks you around. Don’t you want to get out of this town? Don’t you want to get out of this fucking life?” – BW
Yes, I wanted to get out of my stupid town, and once again Bens’ words were getting me in shape to do so. In the fall of 2008, I finally made it to LA and was trying to find my way. I worked low-level TV jobs since radio had all but died. Then Ben played in Hollywood in March 2009. I had been renting a room in Hollywood and Ben would be right up the street at the Knitting Factory. I was amazed that after all this time, a dream would become reality and I would actually see BEN LIVE. I was so excited I told everyone (well, the three strangers that listened) that he had written me a postcard and now I would finally see him. The girl I met upon my arrival to LA had fittingly dumped me a week before the show, leaving me with an extra ticket. It felt normal to be crushed before I would hear Ben sing his songs, the songs that I listened to after being crushed so many times in my life. I listened to “Crying in my Beer” and felt normal to be in that isolated state, listening to the song that summed up my very actions. I walked down the street and saw my legendary pen pal (well, that’s how I like to think of it…) sing his epic plethora of classics, serving me up the much needed therapy I craved, once again, getting my brain in shape.
September 19th. 2010. Screeching Weasel Live, Los Angeles, California.
This time, dumped by yet another girl. Another round of “Crying in my Beer.” And this time it’s not just Ben but his brand new, bloodthirsty army he calls Screeching Weasel. I wandered around the concert for a few hours before hand, alone and drinking, feeling as much of an outsider as ever. And as if the king Weasel heard my unspoken pain, he spit out this great dialogue –
“We always stuck our thumb in the eye of punk rock. We’re from the Ramones’ school. We were always the outsiders among outsiders.”
And that says so much – just being an outsider is one thing, but being an outsider within the outsiders is a whole other story. That’s what I felt as I circled around pre concert, an alone and melancholy vulture, seeing all the crews of punks and friends. And Ben put my feelings in words, like he has done many a times before. Being an outsider among outsiders is how I ALWAYS felt – in The Severed, in Art School and now living in California – Ben made sense. He got me mentally in shape and helped me figure some things out, helped me realize that other people felt that way. And then when I thought there was nothing else Ben could do for me (he had already done so much) he got me in shape physically.
For the past five years I had been a roller coast of weight, just kind of not acknowledging it. But I was done with that. Armed with a new I-pod, I loaded up on everything Ben. Riverdales, Screeching Weasel, Solo records. And took that nervous energy I always had and had usually put towards music, and took it to “Storm the Streets.” I ran like Forrest Gump, cranking every Weasel tune ever conceived into my ears. The new pair of Riverdales’ records were especially helpful, “Invasion USA” and “Tarantula.” I felt like King Dinosaur running the streets and lost 30 pounds. I was listening to his words like I did 13 years before, but this time I wasn’t just mentally getting in shape. I was also physically getting into shape.
Once again, Ben Weasel got me in shape. He gave me confidence to keep playing music at a young age when most people called my punk rock dreams stupid. He gave me the balls to be a lead singer in a band, which I still do today, and record my music and get it on national radio. He amped me up to get out of my little town and take a risk with no plan whatsoever. He sang me life affirming songs and me feel accepted in a brand new city that was doing nothing but dump on me. He motivated me to get off my ass and use my frustration to make me healthier than I’ve ever been. Ben Weasel got me in shape.
So for all the horror stories and judgments about Ben – I’m here to say he helped me. He guided me. He did more for me than he’ll ever know. Call him a asshole, a curmudgeon, the one you love to hate – (great song on Boogada…) but know that this guy did some great things – he has a heart – he wrote me a postcard when I was 13, for no other reason then to just make my day and communicate with a fellow music lover –
So I ask of you to do what I will always do. Buy his records – expose others to his genius - see him live if you ever have a chance – read his words. Long live Ben Weasel. Please come back, or I’ll probably move back to that lonely Connecticut highway and get fat again.
