Interview with Civilized Cannibals
(Reprinted from Suburban Subversion Fanzine, Issue #3, August 1992)
Civilized Cannibals are a new local band that recently released a promising demo tape called Feast Like Animals. Their songs thrash and ravage with a dark and driving sound that keeps one foot firmly planted in 80s hardcore, the other facing toward the future. Their lyrics are fiercely political with an unforeseen earnestness, though they are not without sarcastic humor. I thought they deserved some space in Suburban Subversion, so here’s a quick little chat I had with the guys a couple months back.
SUBURBAN SUBVERSION: Who’s in the band and what do you play?
CHRISTOPHER: I’m Christopher Faith and I play the bass.
STEVE: Steve London. Drums.
MACE: Mace Akers. Resident guitarist, vocalist, lothario and poet.
SS: What compelled the three of you to form Civilized Cannibals?
M: What the hell else are we supposed to do? Boredom leads to boss riffage. Seriously, though, I think it’s just a matter of needing to release our negative aggression and somehow manage to twist it. Channel it into something.
S: Mace and I were in a shitty band a couple of years ago called The Candy Fiends. It went nowhere and we really wanted to chill out on the Sweet Candy so we could focus on a project that mattered. Not that we don’t still dabble a bit, but we’re not, like, addicts.
M: The bassist for The Candy Fiends was a loser and a thief. If you’re reading this Greg Nichols, fuck you! You’d better sleep with one eye open because we know where you live.
S: I think he moved though, Mace.
M: Whatever. We met Chris at an SNFU show about six months ago and hit it off. Figured he’d be a good bassist. Figured wrong on that one. (Laughter)
C: And you can fuck right off, Mace. Yeah I had never really played full-time in a band before. Too many flakes in this town. I was hoping to start up something with the potential to provoke thought. Punk should be a medium for challenging all of the shit shoveled in front of you on a daily basis. If even one person is impacted by our music and lyrics to make a change, then we’ve done our job.
SS: Have you guys played a lot of shows so far?
M: Mostly some house parties around town, and we’re going to go play up in Doomston in a couple of months. Should be a blast and a half.
C: We’re trying to get a show at Club Club so people might actually show up for once. I’m not really psyched on the fact that it wouldn’t be all ages, but unfortunately Sweetville doesn’t really have a lot of venue options.
SS: How has the response been to your demo?
M: Well, Maximumrocknroll gave us kind of a shitty review.
S: That was a shitty review?
M: What part of “If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, then these guys have their noses deep in the rectum of the early 80s” didn’t you understand?
SS: Tell us about the band’s name and the lyrics to “Choose Your Flesh.”
M: Basically, the first few lines of the song sum up the general sentiment:
Feed on the destitute
False ascension, true disgrace
Lives lost to the opportunistic
Subject to the tastes of the master race.
If you’re paying any attention to the fucked-up shit going on in our world lately, you’ll be able to figure out that the song’s about Eaters and Taste Subjects. The pigs ignore the problem and the government is just resting on its haunches all due to the convenient loophole that it involves contracted consent, so this sick relationship is just going to continue. A select few with delusions of grandeur feel they have the right to take advantage of poor families and street urchins they think no one will miss. Eaters prey on desperation. It’s the behavior of scum.
S: Yeah, it’s like some sort of backwards Eucharist/Communion ceremony. Like any other fascist religious practice, it reeks of hypocrisy.
SS: So are you guys all vegetarian, too?
C: Just me. That song’s not exactly addressing the issue of whether or not to eat meat, though, even if that element does factor into it. I think it’s okay to infer some thoughts about the needless slaughter of animals into the lyrics, but an inference is all it would be. Eaters and Taste Subjects, that’s an issue of power. Human above human and how one man can control another into doing the unthinkable.
M: I tried to stop eating meat for a while. Didn’t work out too well. I pretty much subsist off fried chicken. Sue me.
SS: Favorite bands?
M: Black Flag, Discharge, Articles of Faith, Cro-Mags.
C: Hmm…I’d say Born Against, Chain of Strength, Swiz, Drive Like Jehu, Uniform Choice, Amenity, Inside Out, really I could go on and on all day.
S: I dunno…I really love the Misfits and Samhain, I guess.
M: Someone’s got a boner for the Evil Elvis.
SS: Craziest show you’ve ever been to or attended?
S: The storm drain show.
M: Yeah. Definitely. This was way back in the Candy Fiends days, and we played this total guerilla show with some other locals. We had to drag our gear through these tiny tunnels and, in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not exactly the smallest guy.
S: We thought we were gonna have to smear him in butter to get him through.
M: Can I please tell the fucking story?
S: Sorry. Excuse me for existing.
M: Anyway, we set up in this big cave of a room. There were puddles of muck just a little too close to the equipment for comfort. My buddy Al stepped in broken glass and dug right through his shoe. Poor guy had to leave before the show even started. Complete chaos ensued the second we hit our first chord. The echoes were bouncing off the walls and making it sound like every note was delayed by a few seconds. People were losing their minds. Some chick who was wasted out of her gourd got down to her bra and panties and started rolling around in the sewer muck. She was dripping with thick brown scum and started trying to hug people in the crowd. Fuck, man. That was just some nasty business.
SS: Any last words?
S: Why are there so many fat cops?
SS: Why?
S: I donut know. (Laughter)
M: We still have a few copies of our six-song demo tape available. If you want one, they’re only two bucks postpaid. Send well-concealed cash to: Civilized Cannibals, 138 Legacy Street, Sweetville *the remainder of the address is unreadable due to a torn corner in the page of the fanzine.