KILSLUG interview - Trendy Rag #33 fanzine (1987) - by Jim Hildreth

KILSLUG interview - The Unholy Hand fanzine (2009)

UPSIDEDOWN CROSS 2 x article/interview - Worcester Phoenix newspaper (1999)

UPSIDEDOWN CROSS WORCESTER PHOENIX 1
http://www.worcesterphoenix.com/archive/music/99/04/30/ON_THE_ROCKS.html

Satan and a six-pack
Hangin' with Upsidedown Cross
by John O'Neill

Spoken about in hushed tones, and known chiefly as that band in perpetual hiding in their rehearsal space, Upsidedown Cross have been one of the seven hills' more mysterious pieces of music folklore. Thought to have broken up -- they haven't played a Worcester date in nearly eight years -- the inverted ones, it turns out, have been biding their time, waiting to unleash their Satanic asses on the scene just as the millennium approaches. Kinda like the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, only with beer breath. Oh, and they've been touring the country at-will, where they're generally considered quite a legendary act, indeed. They've also acquired a knack for not being invited back a second time, having recently been bounced from New York's Coney Island High after a total of 45 seconds on stage -- they blew the club's power. Just another day at the shop for the boys.
"We sometimes have problems like that," says founding frontman Larry Lifeless. "Once we were in Boston and somebody lit one of our props on fire. But we just kept playing, who gives a shit? They did close the club down when the fire department came."

Since forming some 10 years ago from the ashes of Kilslug (Cheez on bass is the other original Crosser. The new line-up also has Dirty Ed on guitar, Bobgod on the drums, MacNamara on lead guitar, and Hobit on the keyboard), Upsidedown Cross have spent a career battling against convention and occasionally shooting themselves in the foot, all in the name of putting on a show. A typical performance could include live earthworms on Madonna statues, or the band could bust-up a makeshift alter or spray fire extinguishers full of pee at folks. They take their entertainment very seriously. As Cheez explains, "We're a horri-metal band. Not horrible, horror-metal, so we're gonna put on a spectacle. It's taken us six weeks to get ready for this [they play this Friday at Lucky Dog] show. There are a lot of props. We like props!"

Which, from where we sit, is true. Their rehearsal space includes a CVS bag full of small religious pamphlets and prayer books, a couple of crosses (upside-down, natch) on the wall, including a lovely six-footer with HATE painted on it. In a cardboard box are a couple statues of Mary, a tile wall-hanging depicts a Bible passage, there's a so-far unbreakable Last Supper scene and a load of plastic bubble wrap on which the band like to paint. Evil stuff, this desecration business. But in talking to the guys, you don't get the feeling they're slated for a trip to Hell. Burger King, maybe, definitely the package store, but not Hell.

And their music says the same thing. Their third album, Witchcraft (Final Injection), is certainly tuff and dark and, well, evil; but there's also a touch of wink-and-nudge in Larry Lifeless's lyrics, which are a nasal, in-and-out-of-key, buzzbomb, squawk of a delivery. While songs like "Fire" are at the core a bit disturbed, lyrics like "At the coffee shop/Said it was a pot/Left on the stove/Became too hot" make it more of a stoner-Sabbath vibe that the band ride -- though Lifeless is always up for fixating on the power of Satan or witch burning, arson, and inner voices. It's just as much a flat-out hoot as it is demonic.

Having originally released two discs on Taang! in the early '90s (they signed a seven-album deal but bailed after getting screwed moneywise) with alt-hero J. Mascis on drums, the Cross have been through numerous line-ups, settling into this newest incarnation just six months ago.

"Everyone else either a) had a breakdown or b) were crybabies who couldn't stand alcohol abuse or c) crazier than we were," Cheez explains while fetching a round of beer. "[The current group] were all friends who had known each other for years. It just came together. We've already got stuff. Four songs are recorded, and we'll do five or six more and try to shop it to labels."

"That thing with Taang!, we lost our publishing rights, they took everything," adds Lifeless. "The bright part of the story is we have a new law firm -- the Trench Coat Mafia. They're going to San Diego to talk to Taang!"

The band's prolonged absence from the Worcester scene seems to come down to the simple choice of not wanting to bother to hunt down a gig. They remember the days of Worcester past when the hair-metal bands ruled Green Street. It made more sense to practice for cheap in town, then take it out on the road.

"We really didn't play Worcester cuz we thought there was nothing here for us," says Cheez. "We went to Austin and California and New York. All these other places have better food. We're on the menu tour."

"The band has been everything from a two-piece to a 10-piece. I've been to the rottenest places where it was 120 degrees to awful places with three feet of snow," expounds Lifeless on the band's long, strange road and general shitty luck. "We broke down in Nevada and didn't even realize prostitution was legal till the day we left!"

Why the band continue on is a no-brainer. They love to drink, eat Chinese food, rehearse, hang out, and, mostly, entertain. You may love it, you may hate it, but you won't soon forget an Upsidedown Cross show. Which is the chief reason they want a record deal -- more props. As Cheez readily agrees, "We want bigger props. We need more lights and a six-foot wall of flame. Fuckin' A! That's why I wanna get signed. Big Props!"

"Nobody would mind making some money, we're making nothing," says a more reserved Dirty Ed. "Right now we're just entertainment for the masses that dare to step close enough."

UPSIDEDOWN CROSS WORCESTER PHOENIX 2
http://www.worcesterphoenix.com/archive/music/99/08/20/ON_THE_ROCKS.html

Fright right
City officials threaten to shut down MAFIO's day-long concert
by John O'Neill

Seventy-five Webster Street is legendary. The old warehouse is home to a 24-hour gym, a handful of photo studios, and various arts-based retail businesses; but it's the building's basement that is both famous and infamous among musicians. Bands have operated out of the cool and dank rehearsal spaces here for at least 20 years; other than the names on the rented rooms, not much has changed in two decades.

On one recent night, the sound of a beat-challenged drummer reverberates from near the entrance, while metal power-riffing ping-pongs off the concrete from somewhere around the corner and down the hall. The overhead lighting buzzes with the impending death throes inherent to fluorescent tubes. And the bathroom, decorated in Early Filth, emits an odor of a thousand misaimed whizzes. With a latticework of cobwebs that hangs just low enough to make you duck -- and with the festival of urine stink, which has leached deep into the walls -- any trip here is an adventure into potential horror. It also gives the phrase "bowels of a building" an entirely different meaning.

Standing in the hallway with an admitted narcotics jag on is Cheez Fetachini (his spelling), bass player of Upsidedown Cross. If any band are a natural fit in the surrounding squalor they are the men of the Cross. A wall of empty beer cans, smashed religious artifacts, and a lead singer propped up in the corner with green face goo smeared across his puss -- their rehearsal room is the equivalent of Dante's clubhouse. Equal parts gentleman-hosts and sick bastards, Cheez and his crew now find they're the unwitting poster boys for a local fight over free speech that threatens the future of Worcester's outdoor concerts. Arguably the city's most controversial band (this May, they were bounced from the Lucky Dog at their first local show in nine years after a relatively mild-by-comparison set that included tossing out 2000 spider rings and 200 painted bagels, and busting a bunch of Virgin Mary statues), they stand as the odds-on-favorite to elicit the city's (unconstitutional) wrath at this weekend's MAFIO Summer Music Fest. Fueled by the complaints of, arguably, the privileged few (namely, Green Hill golfers), the Cross, as well as all outdoor performers this summer, could have their shows shut down by the city if musicians engage in the ill-defined act of "vulgarity" or if they use "profanity" on stage.

PERHAPS THE PUBLICITY couldn't have come at a better time for the Inverted Ones. They have yet another fine, new album with their impending Hate (they're fourth release) and virtually no chance of getting booked at a Worcester club. Yet the band are looking to get back to the level of international success enjoyed when they were on Taang! Records. Though originally signed to a five-record deal, UDX (whose drummer at the time was alterna-grunge god J. Mascis) bailed after two releases, unhappy with their relationship with Taang!. They've since started the Final Injection imprint and have finally managed to keep a solid line-up together.

"We don't want to jinx it, but we've heard from clubs in Chile that want us to come down. [Hopefully], they'll let us do a regular show without being harassed like we are here in the Northeast," says Cheez. "But they're very religious in South America, so who knows?"

In the meantime, the band as infamous as their HQ have made a name for themselves -- based chiefly on rumor and perceived lifestyle -- in the Worcester-based musicians collective Musicians and Friends International Organization (MAFIO). Less than a year old, MAFIO has quickly become a local force, a support system for local entertainers and a platform to discuss music-related topics Through it, musicians trade information (everything from designing a press kit to sharing media contacts); it also acts as a talent pool for bands looking to flesh out line-ups. Embracing a variety of music styles, MAFIO (which is 50-bands strong) will hold what can be considered its coming-out party this Saturday in a 22-band free-for-all at Cristoforo Columbo Park. Everyone from Mingo's and Billy Pain's homegrown hip-hop to Critical Condition's three-chord pop punk to Gangsta Bitch Barbie's rapcore will be represented.

That Upsidedown Cross will be there is equal parts shit luck and fate.

"Basically Lloyd [Plumstead, MAFIO's chief architect] came down to the rehearsal space and said he'd buy us free drinks [if we came to a meeting], so that's why we went down," says Cross guitarist Dirty Ed. "When we got down there, we found cool bands and a cool agenda, and we've been there for every meeting. One band can only do so much, but 20 or 30 bands working together is more power to us."

Upsidedown Cross are easily MAFIO's most unsettling act, if for no other reason than most people miss the obvious tongue-in-cheek aspect to all that devil loving (how anyone could get their undies in a twist over lyrics like "Kill for Satan/Why are you waitin'" is almost as absurd as the sentiment itself). But the band even have other MAFIO members walking on eggshells. Because the city's Parks Commission has ruled that it will pull the plug on the show for anything interpreted (by city officials who vowed to monitor the show) as vulgar -- some bands sheepishly have suggested the Cross not be allowed on the bill.

The commission's threat is an edict that could conceivably affect not only MAFIO's showcase this weekend, but also September's annual Locobazooka Festival (which last year drew an audience of more than 10,000; this year, headliners include Primus and Type O Negative) and any potential future shows on city-owned land.

"Profanity was a major concern. Everything must be in good taste," says Plumstead. In meeting with the Parks Commission, deputy commissioner Rob Antonelli told MAFIO representatives that there would be one warning and one warning only before the show was forced to close. The commission also requested that the PA system be equipped with a kill switch, and Plumstead is required to carry a cell phone so he'll be in direct contact with the city throughout the day-long Shrewsbury Street event.

"If they received complaints from the citizens they would ask us -- actually, they would tell us -- to shut down," relates MAFIO board member Alan Gomes, whose son Matt plays in the pop/punk trio Critical Condition, whose upcoming disc is titled, appropriately enough, Censorship Sucks. Says the younger Gomes of the city's stance, "I plan to stick with it, but with reservation. I don't like limitations because it takes away from how you can express yourself."

Critical ConditionHow the city came to willfully suggest it may steamroll the US Constitution in favor of good, clean fun is actually little more than the result of last year's Locobazooka, which met head on with city Councilor Tim Cooney's golf game. While on the links near the all-day Green Hill Park festival, Cooney heard a band of questionable moral turpitude apparently infringe (several sources say a musician screamed "shit" while on stage) upon his right to putt in peace. When Loco's promoter Dan Hartwell later returned to City Hall to present Worcester with its cut (since the festival's inception, Hartwell has donated funds to benefit the city's pools and zoo), Cooney went unceremoniously bonkers. Fortunately for Hartwell, Councilor Stacey Luster made quick work of Cooney by dropping the word "censorship."

"I made a big stink, but it was pretty vulgar," says Cooney of the Back Nine Incident. "If it's in a confined area in a building [that] is one thing, but neighborhoods shouldn't be subjected to it."

Though Cooney acknowledges there were no neighborhood complaints the day of the show, after his chamber-floor outburst, "other people [brought the foul language] up to me . . . mostly golfers.

"I think [the Parks Commission] has curtailed [Hartwell] and sent him a message that it's up to him to control his performers. You can still have your entertainment, but not at other people's expense. I'm not against people enjoying themselves, but the offendee has certain rights, too. They're on taxpayer's property."

As in the people's land. And that's the Big Oops that makes the potential shutdown by the city ripe for a lawsuit should it decide to act on the threat. While their intent may be noble in theory, it isn't within the city's rights to curtail what is only morally objectionable language. As comedian Lenny Bruce ultimately proved (in what cost him his livelihood, and finally his life) one man's profanity is another man's descriptive; and filthy is in the eye of the beholder. Not in 35 years (since Bruce's obscenity convictions were overturned by the US Supreme Court) has an entertainer been convicted of obscenity.

"The problem is one, what is profanity? The second issue is who decides what profanity is? The third problem is there is no legal definition of profanity, so there is no reasonable enforcement for standards," says American Civil Liberties Union Worcester chapter director Ronal Madnick. "What's profanity to a police officer may not be profane to someone else."

While members of MAFIO agree to stay within the perimeters of the Parks Commission's request -- Hartwell too reports that this year's Locobazooka line-up is also falling into line -- it's only for fear that failure to comply could lead to more serious consequences than simply shutting down a show. There is an undercurrent that future promotions could run into considerable resistance when it comes time to grant the necessary permits.

"I've checked into the legality of it," says Hartwell. "[Legal action] would blow up Locobazooka, and then there wouldn't be a concert. And that would be too bad because it took years [to get to this level], and the city deserves a good show."

The city's attempt to shield our ears is ultimately naïve. Call it the eroding of the value system, blame it on Jerry Springer, point the finger at Hollywood -- but, frankly, the language in question no longer carries the weight it once did on the shock-o-meter. Unfortunate to face for some, but it's a fact. As Madnick readily adds, "A lot of people use the F-word in normal speech! It's not that shocking anymore. People can roll up the window of the car, or run quickly by. [As for pulling the plug], I don't know if they can do that."

Which brings us back to Upsidedown Cross. Having spent a career blasting their toes off in the name of putting on a great show, they realize all eyes are on them. MAFIO is holding its breath, Hartwell is a little nervous, and the Parks Commission waits to see what it will do if, in fact, it's confronted with on-stage obscenity. Though the Cross's music rarely contains classic profanity, it is chock full of what is considered blasphemous rhetoric. And no show is complete unless crucifixes are hurled into the crowd, religious icons smashed, and Satan gets his proper. How this next performance will all play out is anyone's guess.

"Actually we talked to the city to find out what we can and can't do without getting arrested, and we don't want to get shut down. We won't be smashing Mother Marys, we'll be smashing blue `ghosts,'" says Cheez with a smile. "[Even MAFIO] is afraid we'll do something totally fucked-up. Dan Hartwell said if it doesn't go right, we're gonna wreck outdoor shows. But it will still be interesting -- mayhem, destruction, and the ballsy-est Cross show to be seen yet . . . without swearing."

KILSLUG interview - Forced Exposure magazine #5 (1983)

SICKNOTE - my liner notes for The Sickness LP (pre Kilslug 1979-81)

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Being asked to write these notes was a priviledge I did not undertake lightly and was determined to get right and say everything that needed to be said (albeit with the enthusiasm of a big fan!). This really wasn't easy though and took months instead of weeks to complete and held the release up but the end result was eventually worth it and even turned out better than expected! 

'SICKNOTE'

DO NOT TAKE THIS RECORD FOR GRANTED.

Contained herein is genuine 'lost' treasure of original and authentic American Punk/No Wave circa 1979-81 that now in 2017, nearly 40 years after the recordings were made, a whole generation later, you only just deserve to hear. The Sickness are 'year zero' for a lineage of notorious bands who followed namely The Groinoids. Kilslug and Upsidedown Cross, all now infamous in their own right, for many of the wrong reasons, but now it's time for the band where it all started, who in it's own unassuming way could possibly be the most important of all, to be overlooked no longer and finally get the credit it so rightfully deserves.

Every badly strummed out-of-tune guitar chord, every missed snare hit, when they all go out of time with eachother and the whole thing so nearly falls apart completely ... You just can't fake it - This is the real deal ... Add the seriously unhinged vibe dripping off every second of these recordings, the raw 'lo-fi' sound being another seal of authenticity, the peculiar lyrics delivered by a unique whiney drawl of a voice you either love or loathe which once absorbed will always be instantly recognisable. If music reflects the personality of it's creator/s, it's no surprise the creators of these fantastic dirges were known as the local "drug taking weirdos" and often shunned as social lepers, thus providing the fertile ground on which The Sickness would spew. "From the start, they were sick people making sick music for sick people ... in a scene full of healthy jocks".

The Sickness formed in 1979 in Boston, Massachusetts, USA by old high school friends Larry Coyle (guitar, vocals - later 'Larry Lifeless') and Jay Snow (bass, backing vocals - later 'Big Daddy') who together jointly concocted all of the band's material. Inspired by The Stooges, MC5, Black Sabbath, Captain Beefheart, The Residents, the attitude and aesthetics of Punk Rock and anti-music stance of No Wave (minus the artistic pretensions of the NYC scene), both still so fresh and vital at the time. The excellently named 'Snot' (drums) was the only person Larry and Jay knew who was both suitable and remotely interested in joining what became The Sickness' sole but surprisingly productive line-up. However, the physical artefacts were very little, a trend that would afflict the entire lineage of bands - just one 2 track 7" released in 1981. Around this time Jay was forced into exile for a while during which Larry was coaxed by Rico Petroleum to form Kilslug. Also having formed by this time was The Groinoids, also featuring Rico, who became fully active as Jay resurfaced and both new bands becoming the main focus essentially dissolved The Sickness. Initially, a handful of The Sickness tracks were also played by Kilslug including 'Corpsemonger' which was still played up to as late as 1984.

The tracks collected on 'Complete Sickness' are some of the best selected from one early rehearsal recording and a couple of different studio and live recordings. The title is misleading though as this is far from complete and represents only a small amount of their total unreleased material which had existed all these years on several old cassette tapes in Jay's possession, some likely the only surviving or known copy of, as only a couple of the recordings had ever made it into the hands of a select few of the band's inner circle and there seemed destined to remain. There had never been any plans for the recordings as The Sickness had largely been forgotten about or overlooked completely, always overshadowed by the bands it would spawn. It was only after repeated requests that Jay was convinced to hand over the cassettes so the recordings could be salvaged and transferred to a digital medium. It would've been a travesty for any of these recordings to have been truly lost physically or rendered completely unplayable due to deterioration, which initial effects of are audible in places. Without knowing all the reasons/circumstances, that any band could release just two tracks and then sit on such amazing unreleased recordings for so many years is baffling on face value, but it's also to be admired in this age where music exists primarily on the internet and is constantly flooded with pure drivel from millions of young and old musicians, both just as deluded as eachother, unashamedly begging for your attention. The Sickness never really gave a shit though, and as far as they were concerned nobody cared much for them either, and that right there, ladies and germs, is just it - because the best climate for making music is often one in which 'nobody cares' and these recordings are solid proof.

The sands of time are being fair to The Sickness though. Nowadays around Boston they are recalled fondly by those lucky enough to witness them live as a very strange but excellent band. In an interview with Curtis, the owner of Taang! Records (who released the Kilslug and Upsidedown Cross albums), The Sickness were included in a list he compiled of the top 10 most important Boston bands ever. After Kilslug reanimated in 2007 and knocked everyone dead with consistently excellent live performances and a stunning new album revered by old and new fans alike, the world finally caught on to the extent that they are now universally viewed as innovators of slow-mid paced Noise Rock/Punk and automatically name-dropped by music hipsters in the same breath as Flipper, like it had always been the case. Now with Kilslug's debut album having just been reissued to acclaim and work on a long since announced discography CD and DVD documentary ongoing, unreleased The Groinoids recordings also finally seeing the light of day after many false starts with unreleased Kilslug and Upsidedown Cross recordings likely to follow, the spotlight has slowly but surely moved towards The Sickness. Let this album, which will be the first of several collections, leave you in no doubt whatsoever that The Sickness were a very important band from this era, one that has been hiding in plain sight all of this time, and that these recordings are simply just too good to remain unreleased for any longer and absolutely should be heard.


Side A

Outlook Studios, Boston. 1981. Recorded by Ted St. Pierre
1. Corpsemonger
2. Regurgatation
3. Die
4. 100 Watts Electrified
The band created Stinky Bike Records to release 'Corpsemonger' and 'Regurgatation' (sic) on vinyl as a 7". The artwork was simple but effective - a yellow and black coloured CAUTION sticker peeled off a garbage dumpster and the band's logo. 'Caution' also became the unofficial title. Limited 500 copies on black vinyl only. 3 different sleeve variations (some signed and/or defaced by the band) or no sleeve at all! A miniscule number packaged in zip-lock bags have a chunk of (fake) vomit enclosed. Mailorder adverts in magazines such as Maximum Rock N Roll and Take It! stated the record could be played on all 4 turntable speeds - 16, 33, 45 and 78rpm! 'Die' and '100 Watts Electrified' complete what was their final studio recording along with alternate versions of both 7" tracks. 'Corpsemonger' has an additional heavily distorted organ note buzzing in throughout and a different vocal mix and 'Regurgatation' has a completely different vocal take altogether. '100 Watts Electrified' was later resurrected by Larry in Angry Hate, a mainly studio based band he did with Anal Cunt's Seth Putnam from 1998-2002.

Radiobeat Studios, Boston. 1981. Recorded by Lou Giordano or Jimmy Dufour
5. Slob
6. Shut Up
The legendary Radiobeat Studios where the majority of classic Boston Hardcore recordings from the same era were put down also had both The Sickness and The Groinoids record a session each there. The Groinoids session produced the tracks 'Angel' and 'Empty Skull' which appeared on the now classic 'This Is Boston Not LA' (LP) and 'Unsafe At Any Speed' (7") compilations which showcased the best Hardcore Punk the Boston area had to offer at the time such as Jerry's Kids, Gang Green, The FU's and The Freeze. Of course The Sickness, The Groinoids and Kilslug were always true outsiders of the whole scene and existed in a parallel world of their own creation. The first of 7 tracks recorded by The Sickness at Radiobeat was 'Hospital Song' and is easily one of their greatest moments and will definitely be included on the next collection. Also recorded was a fast version of 'Corpsemonger' which beyond the intro is only really recognisable by the lyrics and has Larry share vocals with a rambling female, the charmingly named 'Katy Crotch', an Iranian student (and relation of the then recently exiled Shah of Iran!) Jay befriended who also lent her voice to The Groinoids on the aforementioned 'Empty Skull'. 'Shut Up' was also resurrected by Angry Hate (about half of their material were reworkings of The Sickness and Kilslug tracks). 'Slob' was Seth Putnam's favourite The Sickness track.

Side B

CBGB, New York City. 1980.
1. Louie Louie - Solid Drip Breakfast
Soundboard recording. The climax of an electric near half hour long set. The term 'cover version' can only be used loosely as 'Louie Louie' is soon ground up into a glorious improv mess and 'Solid Drip Breakfast' morphs into a spasmo interpretation of The Association's la-de-da Psych/Pop hit 'Windy'. Guest alto saxophone by Lance Knight, an old friend of Larry's who lived in NYC at the time. The Sickness were already up against it having to perform at 1am in the morning during the week, going onstage to a handful of spectators to have the end of every track played met with long gaps of silence and an occasional unapproving clap and/or sarcastic yelp, whilst they belted out one of their greatest achievements ever with an almost nonchalant arrogant cool. Yep, nobody cares alright, and they didn't care that nobody cares, Lance humourously announcing "Fuck you all out there!" to the empty room as he first got up onstage, but The Sickness still played like their lives depended on it.

Rehearsal, Boston. 1979.
2. Neopolitan Pizza
The earliest known/surviving recording from their Boston rehearsal space in a loft near the music club The Channel where they would play one of their greatest gigs on New Year's Eve 1980-81 supporting The Plasmatics to a jam-packed audience so dangerously over capacity the local fire department had to be called to restore order. That 'Neopolitan Pizza', the first track on their earliest recording, has no lyrics and instead just Larry vocalising the sound of spewing his guts up is clearly the perfect beginning for not only a band called The Sickness, but especially one with such a cynical sense of the absurd. The 6 tracks that make up the session include '100 Watts Electrified', 'Die' and 'Corpsemonger' in their most stripped down and purest forms. 'Corpsemonger' even manages to plod along at a slightly slower pace than the 7" version. The unhinged vibe that would soon engulf all of their material is clearly already at play here but it's impact lessened by a thin guitar sound.

The Underground, Boston. 1980.
3. Blame It On The Dog
Around this time The Sickness had become the unofficial 'house band' of The Underground, a short-lived music club in the Allston neighbourhood of Boston and were often transported around in an old funeral hearse owned by Mongoloid, vocalist of The Groinoids. Although hard to imagine now, The Sickness would sometimes perform there twice a week which often led to more experimental largely improvised performances where Jay would also play an analogue synthesiser. The Sickness performed live approximately 30 times in total. Their debut gig was at The Rathskeller (The Rat), a legendary music club in Kenmore Square, Boston open from 1974-97. At least 3 more recordings of The Sickness live, two of which are from The Underground and likely document more of the band's experimental side, the other from the Streets club where they supported Snakefinger, exist in the collection of a Boston music archivist and are currently in the process of being obtained and may appear on a future collection. 

MG (once a pre-pubescent Kilslug fan, now a bald middle-aged fanatic)

The Sickness 'Complete Sickness' LP

Limited 505 copies (345 black vinyl, 160 yellow vinyl) 

ОПАЧИНА Records (Macedonia). 01. 2017.

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