Carl McCoy of Fields of the Nephilim.
CHAPTER THREE-The Friday
Night Bedtime Tale
He lay in bed, tossing and
turning as the nightmare raged
warfare in his subconscious. He
could see images, objects and
places he knew. But were they
real? The illusions in his head
tormented his sleep and taunted
him like laughter from dark cor-
ners. He fought it hard, but he
had fallen in, perhaps for only a
few minutes, but it seemed like
hours. The nightmare was in
control. His eyelids were bolted
shut as the events took com-
mand. Inside, it was daylight.
The sky was blue. He knew what
he was, but no one else would
ever believe that he was a vam-
86
PUSZONE
pire. It was only a superstition,
passed down through the cen-
turies. It was hard for him to ad-
just to the lifestyle, never aging,
superior strength, immortality
things people only dream of. It
wasn't that bad he thought, but
his problem still persisted-the
thirst for blood, the mess, the
paranoia. Immortality didn't stop
the psychological factor. He still
thought the same way he did.
when he was mortal. He
wondered if any vampire had
ever gone insane. It would be so
easy to do. Death existed in his
mind only as something external
on which he fed. He surely
couldn't be a vegetarian. He
laughed with a vicious smile. He
analyzed his past, went through
his mistakes, smiling with his
happy times, wondering if he had
changed over the years since
being a vampire. Maybe. Still, he
was impatient, wanted too much,
lost interest so easily, was selfish
inside, and never held true to his
BRYCE KANICHTS
reality. How could he? Reality
went on forever for him. It was
pick and choose. The greed fac-
tor was so easy. He got bored so
easily. How could he commit
himself to anything when every-
thing could be his? He wanted it
all, but when he got it he wanted.
nothing. The pressure swelled at
his forehead, a headache again.
He had to stop thinking like this,
get it out of his system. But
through time the thoughts grew
painfully strong. He jerked his
body to the left, a rumble went
through his system. The hunger
alarm. Again. Time to feed.
Nightcrawling for blood; his
precious feast. He walked
through the calm night air and
stepped into a lonesome café. It
was empty except for the cook
and the waitress. He sat down at
a booth, the cold vinyl upholstery
didn't bother him much. The
waitress greeted him with a
smile. He smiled back. He asked
her to join him. They talked for
quite some time, discussing their
lives. He was enjoying it, then
another customer strolled in. She
had to get up to help. He smiled
as she left. Then it hit him, as it
always did. What would he do
with this girl, feed from her and
watch her die? The hunger
growled in favor. Or he could just
infect her, choose her as his mate
so she could be immortal with
him. Before he had always failed,
given up, fed from them with no
regrets. Sure he had everything,
but he was lonely. Sure he
wanted love, but he could barely
tell himself that, much less tell
someone else. How could he
succeed? His past hammered on
his brain. It was easy to bleed
her. Why would he want to give
that to her? But inside something
told him it was real. Something
he would learn, something
patience would grow from. And
even he would love. He laughed
at the thought. She sat down
again and asked why he was
laughing. He said it was nothing.
Nothing at all. He asked her to
go outside. She did. They walked
a bit and he looked into her eyes.
They embraced in a kiss. He
went down her neck. The pain in
his head grew immensely. He
lowered his jaw as his mouth
widened. Her flesh felt good
under his lips. He buried his
teeth and started to rip away at
the smooth fragile skin. She
moaned. He got to that point and
the question shot through his
spirit.
The alarm clock bell broke the
silence of the room as it roared
with an irritable delight. He jolted
upward, eyelids bolted back,
sweating profusely. He pulled
back his hair and held his
forehead, gasping for breath. He
was scared. That nightmare
again. Why didn't he ever see
blood? Why was there never a
solution? What was going on in
his mind? He rose from the bed
and walked barefoot to the
bathroom. He positioned himself
in front of the sink, head bent
down, still panting. He reached
for the faucet to turn on the cold
water. A small red bead of blood
fell slowly from his face to the
sink. It splattered against the
porcelain unnoticed. Another
bead followed, then another.
Then a stream. He saw red in the
sink, and looked up into the
mirror, startled. Crimson flowed
from his face. His head roared in
pain as the blood continued to
pour. But where was it coming
from? He could not see. There
was no wound, no cut, just blood
on his face, in his hair and filling
the sink. He spun around, blood
splattered against the walls. He
look forward and froze. There
was a silhouette in the doorway.
He wiped the blood from his eyes
and saw it was her; the waitress.
Where did she come from? He
opened his mouth to scream and
his eyes widened in astonish-
ment. She moaned.
A sharp jab to his ribs was'all
it took. He lunged forward, heart
beating at a rapid pace. He
grabbed his face and a voice
startled him from behind.
"Honey, you were having a
nightmare, are you okay?" the
woman next to him asked.
"My face. What color is my
face?" he shouted.
"You're being silly."
"It's not covered in blood?" he
asked.
and invigorating. Fields of the
Nephilim's western appeal isn't
a country twang, but more of a
dusty path, that greets two gun-
fighters and the tension that
exists between them. These
eight tracks (9 on the CD) con-
tinue the progression of Fields of
the Nephilim, and the passion of
their sound. Tracks like "Moon-
child," "Chord of Soul," and
"Love Under Will" reflect the
style of the Nephilim and their
deep, echoing musical pre-
sence. Not only is the music
rhythmic with harmonies and
melodies that capture the senses
and keep them spinning, but at
the forefront is Carl McCoy. He
projects his voice to a eupho-
nious degree. It's his hypnotic
vocals that entrap you in the
Fields of the Nephilim sound.
The Nephilim continues with
tracks like the scary "Endemon-
iada" and "Last Exit for the
Lost," and churns up a real Joy
Division-like tune called
"Celebrate." The Nephilim once
again provide an abundance of
uncanny scales that sit on the
edge of fear and tantalize. A
thoroughly enjoyable release on
Beggar's Banquet.
Those folks at Wishing Well
"That must have been some Records have been absent for
nightmare!" she said.
awhile, and with their return they
"Sure was, what time is it?" unleash a debut Lp from the
he said.
"Time for you to make a deci-
sion and get some sleep. We just
went to bed ten minutes ago...
she rolled over and moaned..
H
Well Puszoners, that was
almost the last tale my cousin
told me of vampires. It's odd, too,
'cause I never see my cousin
during the day. Anyway, onward
to this month's Puszone, where
red isn't the only color. Send
3-25c stamps for a Puszone
sticker to Pushead, P.O. Box 701,
S.F., CA 94101 U.S.A.
The definite soundtrack to the
vampire western adventure saga
would have to be this second
Fields of the Nephilim release.
A bit darker with a calmer pace
than the band's first full-length
release, the Nephilim has ex-
panded its eerie horizons. Sim-
ply titled The Nephilim, this
English outfit again creates a
haunting atmosphere that
creeps through the chords, and
gives one the impression of
ghost story writings. No sonic
blasts or unrelenting terror noise
atacks, Fields of the Nephilim
present a sound that is original
Orange County posi-core outfit
Insted. What does this band
deliver? Glass shattering storms
of boisterous combustion that
force a vicious smile with hot
guitar riffs and a straight forward
attack of rabble rousing insist-
ency. They stagger the senses
with a total bombardment of un-
tamed hardcore activity. It's a
maniac wall of sound that re-
mains tight and harmonious
while absolutely ripping the teeth
from your gaping mouth. Is this
your kind of fun? With searing
direction, Insted mix up a sound
that could be compared to the
current N.Y. hardcore approach
and Uniform Choice (before the
change). The beginning track,
"Tell Me," opens it all up with a
thunderous assault. The guitars
roar wildly and vocalist Kevin
contorts his voice at a rapid pace.
This song is definitely the best
of this short Lp, but the rest won't
let you down either. They're all
quick and strong, youthful in ag-
gression, personal in lyrical
statements and furious. Thirteen
tracks go by quickly, all with the
velocity and vigor you would ex-
pect from a good hardcore unit.
Wishing Well Records, PO. Box
9417, Fountain Valley, CA 92728.
Wouldn't you know it, only in
Japan would a band like this.
form. It is called Griffin and for
all you Misfits fans, this is a must.
From the cover with the four
members all sporting devil-locks,
to the musical contents where
two of the songs are almost
direct Misfits rip-offs, you know
the direction here. Hailing from
Osaka, Japan, Griffin combine a
Japanese hardcore approach
with Misfits-like howls and
choruses. Sometimes the
vocalist growls like Lemmy of
Motorhead. It gets to be confus-
ing, but is a lot of fun just the
same. One song is a musical rip-
off of the Misfits "Devil's
Whorehouse." Six tracks have
those crazy English titles only.
the Japanese could come up
with: "Go For Block," "Human
Soup, Human Steak, Human
Burger" "The Phantom of the
Shocker," "(Neerl) Kick &
Blood," "Many Mistrust" and
"Fiendish People for a Fiendish
Torture." Some Japanese people
are laughing, others love it. This
unusual Ep will definitely makes
you smile one way or the other.
The New York hardcore scene
and the music coming out of that
underground is the current rage,
especially the sounds coming.
from the posi-core arena. These
new N.Y. bands seem to be put-
ting out discs and getting signed
at a rapid pace. One label releas
ing a lot of this hot activity is
Revelation records. They have
compiled a N.Y.H.C. compilation
album to introduce you to this
furious sound and action.
Entitled New York City Hard-
core-The Way It Is, it features
twelve different bands with a total
of seventeen tracks. It comes
with an information booklet on
the bands and the recording is
all pretty even in quality. The
countdown of bands includes
Bold, Nausea, Warzone, Gorilla
Biscuits, Trip 6, Breakdown,
Youth of Today, Sick Of It All,
Krakdown, Side By Side, Youth
Defense League, and Super-
touch. All of the bands provide
good to excellent reflections of
their energies and beliefs. This
very strong sampler will see to it
that the N.Y.H.C. sound is
exposed. Besides, the demand
is still growing. On Revelation
Records, PO Box 1454, New
Haven, CT 06506-1454,
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