The idea of interviewing Mike
Muir, Suicidal Tendencies' outspo-
ken frontman, made me nervous.
Muir is reputedly very politically
and socially opinionated-in other
words, he'll tell you what's on his
mind whether you care to hear it
or not. But ironically, that's what
makes him so rad. So I bit my lip,
dialed the phone, and hoped I had
enough questions.
"People still come up to me
and say we've changed, and that
we used to be punk rock," says the
astonishingly soft-spoken vocalist
over the phone. "We basically took
the power of punk-our definition
of punk, not other people's-and
the musical side of metal, and put
it together, and we got put down
for it, but we don't really give a
fuck. We were just doing what we
liked, and now, eleven years later,
everyone's doing it."
Back in the day when long.
heavy boards, fat wheels, empty
pools, knee-high tube socks and
short-ass shorts were the way to
go, Suicidal first rocked the scene.
"My brother, James Muir, started
Dogtown Skates. He was a pro
skater from way back, so a lot of
people associated me with my
brother," says Mike. "So when
Suicidal started off, people into
that scene, which was big where
we were from, and skaters and
surfers, were the ones that locked
into us first. After that, the metal
kids called us punk and the punk
rockers called us metal-so I know
we did something right, because
we got a lot of people pissed off."
72 Te
SUICIDAL
TENDENCIES
The band's latest album, Suicidal
For Life, is yet another example of
Muir's uncompromising lyrical...
uhm, eloquence. Songs like "No
Fucking Problem," "Fucked Up
Just Right," "Suicyco Muthafucka,"
and "Don't Give A Fuck," are just a
few of the simple-yet-extremely
direct ways Muir gets his message
across. The album deals with top-
ics like alienation, non-
conformity and loneli-
ness, with emphasis
placed on thinking for
one's self. "A lot of times
people try to tell people
how to think," Muir says.
"We're not trying to tell
you how to think, we're
trying to get people to
think. It's a great process.
People sit there and go,
'I'm confused.' And I go,
'Confusion is great 'cause
that means you're think-
ing of things in different
ways than you thought
before. That's why you're
confused.' It's not some-
thing you should run from,
but open your arms to."
"I feel very comfortable with my
opinions, Muir says very seriously.
"That's why I'm willing to let other
people have their opinions. It's
only when you don't have validity
to your opinions that you're scared
to let other people have opinions."
Self-respect is key to Muir's phi
losophy. "You have to believe that
you're somebody, and treat your
self with respect," he says. "If you
don't think you're somebody, then
why do you deserve it? It's unfor-
tunate a lot of people don't think
they deserve respect. If you don't
think so, then you had better get
out of the mainstream, take some
time, and figure out what the
problem is before you start dealing
with other people." -Sara Tassione
TAD
It's all true, guitarist and vocalist Tad Doyle, of
Seattle big-boys Tad, ain't nothing but a nice kid
with a lotta bad luck. If Tad was on America's Most
Wanted, he'd describe himself as, "Tad, alias Tad
Doyle. Stands 6'1", unknown weight. He's very big
and dangerous, and has been seen holding up pet
stores for cute puppies across the United States."
Just a big teddy bear, I tell ya.
Tonight the band is playing Berkeley's Greek
Theatre, and things look glum. The small Bay Area
city just so happens to have a noise level ordinance,
so all bands have to chill on the volume. Alcohol is
allowed only in the backstage area, and of course Bill
Graham Presents nazis are posted on every corner to
harass the kids-which all just blows hard. But Tad
still goes on to play their dirty little hearts out.
Songs from the new album Inhaler don't stir too
many pits, but tunes from God's Balls and 8-Way
Santa make the floor of the Coliseum look like pop-
ping corn in an oil-slicked pan-all crusty, with sweat-
ing bodies poetically slamming into each other.
Just back from a European tour and beginning a
US tour with Soundgarden, Tad is getting a slight
case of cabin fever in their wee quarters. "The day
usually starts after midnight after the show," snorts
Doyle. "We're on the bus getting silly, getting drunk
and trying to snort carpet fibers up into our nostrils
while bothering other people on the bus who are
trying to get some sleep."
"The favorite place we went was..." Doyle is inter-
rupted by drummer Josh Sinder, who interjects,
"Home! You've got your own band, your own bong
and all your friends.
"Yeah," chuckles Doyle, "Home has the best pot-
and no annoying sun!"
-Sara Tassione
uble Dip
H-HOUR
GUIDED BY VOICES
It was hard to believe that the drunken unleashed vocalist on stage
was the same mild-mannered guy I talked to just a short time before the
show. Guided By Voices, from Dayton, Ohio, had taken the stage and
already Robert Pollard, the singer, was in a toxic bliss. -Del Patricks
Don't you teach fourth grade?
I just resigned. I'd been teach-
ing for fourteen years, and I met
a lot of nice people, most of
them kids. I'd been playing rock
'n' roll about the same amount of
time and it was time for a change.
Did teaching influence you?
Yeah, the things kids do rub
off a little bit, and I used to read
them Grimm's Fairy Tales, and I'd
get a lot of song ideas and band
concept ideas from that.
What about The Beatles?
Yeah. That's why I sing with a
British accent occasionally. I was
schooled on The Beatles, so there
is definitely a lot of influence
there. But I hope we project a lot
of the cooler shit that The Beatles
did. Rather than all the poppy
stuff, we project more of the
psychedelic stuff The Beatles did.
Do you drink as much off stage?
Sure. We got about twenty
years of drinking under our belts.
We started drinking at the legal
age of course, not before. We
play basketball too. We don't get
into much hard liquor, though.
That could kill you. We don't con-
done hard liquor, just beer. They
say that American beer is like
water anyway.