Status: DISCONTINUED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE
Master of Sardonic Wit
26.
April 20th 1999
“It took us so long to finally release this thing. Holy fuck,” James looked at the CD in his hands and went over every inch of it with his widened eyes. After so many years of talking to execs and having dinner with several labels, they finally managed to get signed to Elektra and release their first album as a real band.
It had taken some time, they had been really picky about who to sign with and the whole band had to like the label, not just several members. If one didn’t like the deal, then it was off. That was the way they worked.
James felt Steve put a hand on his shoulder and squeezing it slightly before the man took the CD from his hand.
“Yes, it’s finished now, but if you don’t put it back, it’ll never sell,” Steve noted, putting the CD back on the shelf between the recently released albums. Even if it was only at a selective amount of stores in New York (and the rest to be sold at the shows at the merch booth), Steve and James had still gone to every store to see if the CD was actually there.
James nodded, only half coherent of what Steve was saying to him about the fans that were going to buy the CD at the shows, only nodding in reply as he walked out dazed about just having his own CD in his hands.
“It’s so amazing, isn’t it Steve?”
“It really is.”
“I can’t believe we got our own first CD released…”
Steve sighed, this was the line that James had been repeating for the past few days ever since their manager had showed them the first copy of their CD with the full artwork and booklet.
“So, when is the website coming up?”
“The 27th, or so Kitty says.”
“Oh Kitty runs it?”
“Yeah, she’s the only one who actually knows something about web-design and we sort of wanted to keep it realistic and communicate with the fans, remember?”
“Oh…yeah,” James frowned, “oh yeah, now I remember!”
“Took you long enough…”
May 2nd 1999
James entered the room, his hand holding a magazine rolled up. A big smile on his lips as his eyes looked around for any sign of Chantal, Steve, Kayleigh or anybody else that was around him.
“Steve?” he yelled out, looking around. He poked his head into the kitchen but found nobody. Pouting, James sighed and ran towards Steve’s bedroom, hoping that the man wasn’t doing anything he didn’t want to see. Knocking on the door just to be sure, he was soon met with Steve’s tired eyes and messy hair.
“You’ll never guess what I just did.”
“Go comic book shopping?” Steve asked, frowning and stifling a yawn. James rolled his eyes at the obvious answer and hit Steve on the head with the magazine he had in his hand.
“No you idiot,” James said, “I went magazine browsing.”
“…Why on earth would you do that?”
“Because, I found something very interesting in ‘Spin’ magazine.”
Steve frowned and got out of his room more, leaning against the door frame. He crossed his arms and looked at James, wondering what he had found. It had to be interesting if James looked so happy about it.
“There’s a certain article in it…”
“Just spill it out already, sheesh man.”
“Tut tut, let me finish,” James glared, “so as I was saying…there’s a certain article about it about this band. I don’t know if you know it but they’re called ‘Mindless Self Indulgence’ or something. As I said, I don’t know if you ever heard of them before but apparently, they’re pretty good according to ‘Spin’.”
“You got to be kidding,” Steve’s eyes widened and he grabbed the magazine out of James’ hand and leafing through it. James grinned broadly and waited for Steve to finally find the article.
“Where is it?” Steve frowned before James rolled his eyes and took the magazine back. He leafed to the right page and handed it back to Steve, waiting for his reaction to the article.
"The new brat pack. Now that the Beastie Boys have given up T-ball and snot balls in favor of peace, love and domestic planning, another group of bratty New Yorkers is poised to pick up the trash-talking, prep-school-trained, rapper-punk mantle. After all, Mindless Self Indulgence, half of whom attended Gotham private schools, specialize in sexist, race-baiting, and otherwise delightfully aggressive rants. The beasties comparison ends there, though, as Mindless's music is straight out of the Korn school of sludgy riffling, a lo-fi spew of breakbeats and a rapid-fire metal that reflects the group's defiant lack of musical training."
"Did you really have to read that out loud? I read it like 10 times already, it doesn't change."
"Wow...this is big."
"You look so weird on the picture, seriously, when we took those pictures of ourselves, we never thought they'd end up in a magazine..."
"No, we just intended to put them everywhere we could so we could be finally recognized when we got up stage-"
"-as those motherfuckers who pasted their ugly faces all over the dressing room and toilet walls? No not really."
“Stop lying to yourself.”
“I’m not lying to myself, besides, you took my picture if I remember correctly…”
“Yes, and Chantal was holding candy above you to make sure you didn’t pull all too weird faces to the camera.”
“Spoilbrats.”
"None of the members - singer James 'Little Urine' Euringer; guitarist Stephen Wright; bassist Vanessa Y.T; and drummer Kitty ('just Kitty')- had ever played in a group before Euringer bonded them together two years ago,” Steve read out loud again, frowning at the words as he squinted to read them in the tiny font they were printed in.
“What the fuck, Wright? My name’s Montano fuckers, do research!”
“I don’t even know where they got the Wright, interviewers these days,” James frowned, taking the magazine back from Steve and looking at the wrong name with a frown before Steve took it back and read on.
“ ""Before this, we were all just sitting at home playing Megaman," says Euringer. "I don't really like musicians, I wanted to play with friends." For their raucous, self-released debut, Tight, Euringer composed his opuses on an archaic Atari PC ("The new machines are a pain in the ass," he says), then had the rest of the group add their parts later."
"That's so not how it went...it was the other way around."
"I think we did a mix of the two, record, mix, record, mix, you know..."
"Hell, I don't remember, I was too psyched to be even making a record with the band."
“Did they have to use ‘Euringer’ though? I mean, I like the Little Jimmy Urine thing more.”
“Me too, but hey, I’m trying to be professional here. Even if I don’t remember ever saying whatever the guy quoted.”
"It was Mindless's similarly freewheeling live gigs that attracted the attention of numerous labels execs late last year. Before eventually signing with Elektra, the group laid down its terms. "We wouldn't even talk to anybody who left less than a 15 percent tip when they took us out to dinner," Euringer says. It turns out that a fair number of execs failed the test. "Which is really weird, when you think about it," Euringer says, sounding genuinely peeved. "It's not like it's their own money they were saving."
"Oh come on, it was only 13%."
"Meh, doesn't make a lot of difference you know? Besides, I think it was 15% James, you just forgot about it."
"I tend to do that a lot lately, must be from hitting my head that hard last night."
"Yeah, sorry about that."
"About what?"
"Hitting your head," Steve looked worried at James who looked a little confused.
"Oh you hit my head? I thought I banged it against one of the speakers."
"Well, you did, just, after I pushed you against one."
"...Oh."
“It took us so long to finally release this thing. Holy fuck,” James looked at the CD in his hands and went over every inch of it with his widened eyes. After so many years of talking to execs and having dinner with several labels, they finally managed to get signed to Elektra and release their first album as a real band.
It had taken some time, they had been really picky about who to sign with and the whole band had to like the label, not just several members. If one didn’t like the deal, then it was off. That was the way they worked.
James felt Steve put a hand on his shoulder and squeezing it slightly before the man took the CD from his hand.
“Yes, it’s finished now, but if you don’t put it back, it’ll never sell,” Steve noted, putting the CD back on the shelf between the recently released albums. Even if it was only at a selective amount of stores in New York (and the rest to be sold at the shows at the merch booth), Steve and James had still gone to every store to see if the CD was actually there.
James nodded, only half coherent of what Steve was saying to him about the fans that were going to buy the CD at the shows, only nodding in reply as he walked out dazed about just having his own CD in his hands.
“It’s so amazing, isn’t it Steve?”
“It really is.”
“I can’t believe we got our own first CD released…”
Steve sighed, this was the line that James had been repeating for the past few days ever since their manager had showed them the first copy of their CD with the full artwork and booklet.
“So, when is the website coming up?”
“The 27th, or so Kitty says.”
“Oh Kitty runs it?”
“Yeah, she’s the only one who actually knows something about web-design and we sort of wanted to keep it realistic and communicate with the fans, remember?”
“Oh…yeah,” James frowned, “oh yeah, now I remember!”
“Took you long enough…”
May 2nd 1999
James entered the room, his hand holding a magazine rolled up. A big smile on his lips as his eyes looked around for any sign of Chantal, Steve, Kayleigh or anybody else that was around him.
“Steve?” he yelled out, looking around. He poked his head into the kitchen but found nobody. Pouting, James sighed and ran towards Steve’s bedroom, hoping that the man wasn’t doing anything he didn’t want to see. Knocking on the door just to be sure, he was soon met with Steve’s tired eyes and messy hair.
“You’ll never guess what I just did.”
“Go comic book shopping?” Steve asked, frowning and stifling a yawn. James rolled his eyes at the obvious answer and hit Steve on the head with the magazine he had in his hand.
“No you idiot,” James said, “I went magazine browsing.”
“…Why on earth would you do that?”
“Because, I found something very interesting in ‘Spin’ magazine.”
Steve frowned and got out of his room more, leaning against the door frame. He crossed his arms and looked at James, wondering what he had found. It had to be interesting if James looked so happy about it.
“There’s a certain article in it…”
“Just spill it out already, sheesh man.”
“Tut tut, let me finish,” James glared, “so as I was saying…there’s a certain article about it about this band. I don’t know if you know it but they’re called ‘Mindless Self Indulgence’ or something. As I said, I don’t know if you ever heard of them before but apparently, they’re pretty good according to ‘Spin’.”
“You got to be kidding,” Steve’s eyes widened and he grabbed the magazine out of James’ hand and leafing through it. James grinned broadly and waited for Steve to finally find the article.
“Where is it?” Steve frowned before James rolled his eyes and took the magazine back. He leafed to the right page and handed it back to Steve, waiting for his reaction to the article.
"The new brat pack. Now that the Beastie Boys have given up T-ball and snot balls in favor of peace, love and domestic planning, another group of bratty New Yorkers is poised to pick up the trash-talking, prep-school-trained, rapper-punk mantle. After all, Mindless Self Indulgence, half of whom attended Gotham private schools, specialize in sexist, race-baiting, and otherwise delightfully aggressive rants. The beasties comparison ends there, though, as Mindless's music is straight out of the Korn school of sludgy riffling, a lo-fi spew of breakbeats and a rapid-fire metal that reflects the group's defiant lack of musical training."
"Did you really have to read that out loud? I read it like 10 times already, it doesn't change."
"Wow...this is big."
"You look so weird on the picture, seriously, when we took those pictures of ourselves, we never thought they'd end up in a magazine..."
"No, we just intended to put them everywhere we could so we could be finally recognized when we got up stage-"
"-as those motherfuckers who pasted their ugly faces all over the dressing room and toilet walls? No not really."
“Stop lying to yourself.”
“I’m not lying to myself, besides, you took my picture if I remember correctly…”
“Yes, and Chantal was holding candy above you to make sure you didn’t pull all too weird faces to the camera.”
“Spoilbrats.”
"None of the members - singer James 'Little Urine' Euringer; guitarist Stephen Wright; bassist Vanessa Y.T; and drummer Kitty ('just Kitty')- had ever played in a group before Euringer bonded them together two years ago,” Steve read out loud again, frowning at the words as he squinted to read them in the tiny font they were printed in.
“What the fuck, Wright? My name’s Montano fuckers, do research!”
“I don’t even know where they got the Wright, interviewers these days,” James frowned, taking the magazine back from Steve and looking at the wrong name with a frown before Steve took it back and read on.
“ ""Before this, we were all just sitting at home playing Megaman," says Euringer. "I don't really like musicians, I wanted to play with friends." For their raucous, self-released debut, Tight, Euringer composed his opuses on an archaic Atari PC ("The new machines are a pain in the ass," he says), then had the rest of the group add their parts later."
"That's so not how it went...it was the other way around."
"I think we did a mix of the two, record, mix, record, mix, you know..."
"Hell, I don't remember, I was too psyched to be even making a record with the band."
“Did they have to use ‘Euringer’ though? I mean, I like the Little Jimmy Urine thing more.”
“Me too, but hey, I’m trying to be professional here. Even if I don’t remember ever saying whatever the guy quoted.”
"It was Mindless's similarly freewheeling live gigs that attracted the attention of numerous labels execs late last year. Before eventually signing with Elektra, the group laid down its terms. "We wouldn't even talk to anybody who left less than a 15 percent tip when they took us out to dinner," Euringer says. It turns out that a fair number of execs failed the test. "Which is really weird, when you think about it," Euringer says, sounding genuinely peeved. "It's not like it's their own money they were saving."
"Oh come on, it was only 13%."
"Meh, doesn't make a lot of difference you know? Besides, I think it was 15% James, you just forgot about it."
"I tend to do that a lot lately, must be from hitting my head that hard last night."
"Yeah, sorry about that."
"About what?"
"Hitting your head," Steve looked worried at James who looked a little confused.
"Oh you hit my head? I thought I banged it against one of the speakers."
"Well, you did, just, after I pushed you against one."
"...Oh."