Two Tub Mantooth

The following appeared in the December 2006 Issue of Maximum Rock n Roll. It was my 26th column.

COLD AS ICE!!!

 

In my column, I may come off as some kind of narcissistic prick or egomaniacal brute. I’ll be the first to admit that I have some trouble not starting my introductions in the first person. I can admit to not being perfect. The nature and origin of my various mental failings is perhaps more interesting than the manifestations thereof. But I can admit to having a problem.

The problem is not with alcohol. Nor is it with drugs or sex. My problem cannot be ingested, shot up, or fucked. It’s a problem that many MRR readers and staffers may be dealing with themselves. It’s seldom spoke of and those in need of treatment are often labeled as “crazy” or as “lacking self control.” Unfortunately, there is no clinic or therapy that deals with mincecore.

For those unfamiliar with the term, the genre “mincecore” is played and was coined by the band Agathocles. Hailing for Belgium, the band has been “mincing” since the late 80’s and has released a staggering, if not nauseating, amount of records. Probably upwards of 200, most of them being split 7”s. If you find yourself wondering how one band could produce so much material, the answer is simple; it’s easy to produce shit. Shocking as it may be, the quality of most Agathocles releases may not appear on any scale even remotely labeled “good.” I once boasted that I would embark on what I called “the Agathocles Challenge,” a grueling battle against rational thought and my own bank account, wherein I would try to track down and own the entire Agathocles catalogue. I was young and naïve. I didn’t know what I was getting into. It seemed like all my friends were doing it. I just wanted to fit in.

I never even came close to success, but I did learn a lot of things during that time. Unfortunately, I can’t remember any of those things because the same part of your brain that is responsible for common sense and memory is also in charge of keeping you from spending your hard earned money on another shitty Agathocles record. So I had to sacrifice one part for the other.

So there is a significant lapse in my memory over a certain number of months when I may have done and said things that I regret. This was well before my time writing for MRR, so I can’t excuse the past two years of shitty columns on Agathocles.

Case and point: I was purging my record collection recently when I came across a 7” that I had never seen before, nor do I remember ever buying. It’s an Agathocles record with nothing but a photo of a polar bear on the cover. The title is “Cold as Ice.” It’s a split 7” with PP7 Gaftzeb and the Calypso Queerleaders, which I’ll get to later.

Since I had absolutely no recollection of ever buying this record, I decided to save it from the sale pile and give it a quick listen, expecting the usual low-fi “mincecore” AKA “shitty grindcore.” What’s etched into that wax is probably more brutal and more terrifying than any grindcore release to date or ever will be. It sounds like Jan and the boys tried to do some sort of Godflesh/Industrial-type song, but turned it into some sort of mid-paced techno jam about wanting to be a polar bear. The part about “wanting to be a polar bear” is not lyrical interpretation: COLD AS ICE / COLD AS ICE / POLAR BEAR / I WANNA BE A POLAR BEAR / IN THE COLD NORTH POLE / SO I DON’T HAVE TO CRY ANYMORE / BECAUSE EVERYTHING BECOMES SO CLEAR / POLAR BEARS DON’T HAVE TO CRY

If you think that reading those might have damaged your nervous system in some way, just think how hard it is to type those out, let alone listen to them. I wasn’t quite sure what happened to me in those first few minutes, but I’m pretty sure my sperm count was lowered due to being struck in the balls by such a weighty mass of insanity/idiocy. I kind of stood there for a minute, not really sure what to do or what was going on. The insert tells me to “play this piece fucking loud and feel the cold!” so I did just that. I didn’t feel any noticeable temperature change, but I did feel the pain that wrestles within Agathocles’ heart, the desire to transform into a polar bear. I figured that if I was a polar bear, I would be no where near this record and would stop crying because I can’t fucking remember buying this record.

Or maybe Agathocles are a bunch of furries.

The flipside didn’t make me feel much better. “Maybe I bought it for PP7 Gaftzeb and the Calypso Queerleaders?” I thought. I don’t even know how to describe what the hell is going on here. All I know is that cowbells, maracas, flutes, steel drums, slide guitars, and tambourines are involved. Someone is also credited as playing some instrument called “door closing.” Congratulations, Nicklas Lindth, you are a virtuoso on the door. They also stick it to the man by not thanking “non-Swedish type font of Microsoft USA.”

The plot sickens: the Agathocles/PP7 Gaftzeb and the Calypso whatevers came out in 1997 on some label called TPOS, which you can reach through Trash American Style. The same label that put out this gem also released various Charles Manson spoken word cassettes, but also the Reverand Jim Jones “Mass Suicide” cassette, which they describe as “low-fi and scary.” And if you’re not in the market for a David Koresh “last sermon” cassette, you could also pick up The Pist “destroy the boathouse” cassette.

I decided not to sell this record, but instead mounted it on my wall so that I may always remember how I lost my innocence.

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