Successful dating is like basketball. It's all about fundamentals (*). Too many people are looking for a trick or secret weapon to dating success when ninety-five percent of the time, all they need to do is refine the skills they already have. Today we're going to talk about a basic conversational... more

Successful dating is like basketball. It's all about fundamentals (*).

Too many people are looking for a trick or secret weapon to dating success when ninety-five percent of the time, all they need to do is refine the skills they already have. Today we're going to talk about a basic conversational building block (**) called self-disclosure.

I know what you're thinking: How dumb do you have to be to screw up talking? The answer is, you don't have to be dumb at all. Some of the smartest people I know have the most trouble talking to people. This is because they're the type of person who are always trying to "win" a conversation. They want to be the one with the most knowledge or the most trenchant comeback. Many times they are successful. Unfortunately, their prize for these conversational victories is the title of social imbecile. Instead of a blue ribbon, they get a scarlet letter (**).

I have a lot of empathy for those folks. Our culture assumes social ability is somehow innate. The truth is, conversation is a skill that can be learned just like long division or the extended combos in Street Fighter II. But for some of us, these things don't come naturally. We have to work at it.

Which brings us back to self-disclosure, which is to conversation what X-Wing fighters are to the Rebel Alliance -- effective, adaptable, and ubiquitous.

How do you self-disclose? Easy-Peasy. You pick a subject -- ANY subject -- and relate it to yourself by talking about your feelings on the subject. Then you shut your gob and give the other person a chance to talk. Rinse and repeat.

It looks something like this:

Pretty simple, right? The two biggest mistakes people make are lack of emotional content ("Transformers 2 is now in theatres" vs. "I can't believe what those fuckers did to Soundwave.") and not tying the content to themselves ("Many cultures consider suicide a noble ending" vs. "I hate myself and want to die.").

The secret is to talk in the first person. Not only will you sound more confident and expressive, it will help you avoid sounding judgmental, which is the conversational kiss of death. "I'm a fan of good driving" is a far more effective connection-builder than "People should learn to drive" or (God help you) "Your driving sucks."

The important thing to realize about self-disclosure is you aren't talking about yourself for the sake of talking. There's no showing off, defending yourself, or rationalizing. The goal is to lay down how you honestly feel. When you do this, people become more comfortable opening up right back, and in dating, comfort is the name of the game.

Don't believe me?

Good. If you're smart enough to know not to believe everything you read, then you're probably smart enough to realize the best way to find out if something is true is to try it for yourself (***). It's counter-intuitive to accept that the best way to connect with others is by talking about yourself, so a little skepticism is perfectly natural.

Here then is your challenge. Your job is to have a conversation with someone. Over the course of this conversation, you are to learn as much as you can about them using ONLY self-disclosure. You are not allowed to tell them what to do. You are not allowed to ask questions. All you do is a) talk about your own experience and b) listen.

Post your results and questions in the comments section below.


(*) All of which are covered in my book Dating for Shy Guys, available in slush piles of finer Literary Agencies everywhere.

(**) There are a few other basic elements to conversation we'll probably talk about down the road. They are (in rough order of frequency of use): questions, paraphrase, leading, and sexual tension.

(***) I am a trained professional writer. Do not attempt this imagery at home.

(****) Unless you're a twelve-year old child interested in finding out what happens when you jump off the garage roof. At such times, it's nice to have an impressionable younger sibling.


Dan Brodribb is a professional stand-up comic and writer. He is currently working on a book called Dating for Shy Guys. Learn more about him at: danbrodribb.blogspot.com.

Welcome to National Asshole Fuckface Day. It happens every Friday, because it’s the best holiday of all time. To prepare for Asshole Fuckface Friday, I scour the news looking for the worst humans alive. When I find them, I drag them into the light for people to mock and laugh at. I am like Gandhi. more

Welcome to National Asshole Fuckface Day. It happens every Friday, because it’s the best holiday of all time. To prepare for Asshole Fuckface Friday, I scour the news looking for the worst humans alive. When I find them, I drag them into the light for people to mock and laugh at. I am like Gandhi. This week I discovered an especially heinous group, as usual, so put on your muck boots because this is going to be ugly.

First up, an Asshole Fuckface hall of famer.

Michele Bachmann opened her horrible pie hole again and idiocy rolled out, as expected. Apparently, Michele is super concerned about the census, like any right wing extremist would be. First, she declared she wouldn’t be filling out her census, which is an awesome stance to take for a lawmaker.

Could you imagine what would happen is a group of community organizers, who help the poor, found information on a rich, white lady? Holy shit, it would be like Michael Myers getting a hold of your address. But Michele wasn’t done.

Totally. Also, you’re a rich, white Christian. It's very respectable for a lawmaker to encourage Americans to break the law.

Next up, some potato chip Asshole Fuckfacery.

It’s not often people on both ends of a situation are equal Asshole Fuckfaces, but that’s what happened this week in Oklahoma. If you are not familiar with Oklahoma, it is like America’s dead appendage.

This week we learned that a man in Oklahoma was having problems with his marriage, so he decided to go to a prostitute. Okay, whatever. Happens all the time. No big deal. But he didn’t have any money. He did, however, work for Frito Lay.

Yep. He was lucky enough to bump into prostitute Lahoma Sue Smith, who apparently has lowered the value of her vagina to a box of thin, fried potato pieces. Just think what she would do for a box of Skittles.

Next up, some drone Asshole Fuckfacery.

Last week, US drones attacked a “Taliban training center” in Pakistan where bad guys were supposed to be. Terrorists, stuff like that. People who want to kill people. So, we took them out. In all, 13 died. That’s a good day for drones, right?

A couple of days later, there was a large funeral for the 13 people who died. Thankfully, our drones were there to stop the mourning.

That’ll show you, terrorists. The only way to kill terrorists it to kill everyone around them and kids and stuff.

Win!

Finally, some Democratic Asshole Fuckfacery.

You can always count on the Democrats to completely fuck shit up. This time they are doing what they can to undermine Obama and blow this opportunity for universal health insurance. Why? Why would the do such a thing when 72% of Americans support Obama’s plan? Because they are Democrats. Oh, and they are whores.

The kids over at FiveThirtyEight broke down the numbers and it turns out Democratic Senator’s positions on health care are greatly effected when they get money from health insurers. Who would have thought?

Sweet. Because when your base wants you to create a public option and your president wants you to create a public option, you should always do what the guys who give you cash want.

It’s called leading, people. Reid is a leader.

But the worst of all is Max Baucus. Max is the Senator in charge of the committee coming up with the plan. He’s also the guy in the Senate who has taken the most money from insurers.

And it’s paying off. Max gave the Senate Finance Committee's draft bill to the Congressional Budget Office so they could crunch the numbers on how much it would cost. The CBO came up with a huge number.

Wow. But that’s what happens when you give the CBO your draft when IT DOESN’T INCLUDE THE PUBIC OPTION. He gave them the bill without the part that reduces cost. Quite simply, this was Max Baucus’ attempt to turn the public against the health care bill. He’s a Democrat. He’s in charge of the committee working on health care reform and he just tried to kill health care reform because he’s a whore.

Go Democrats!

FearTheReaper is a writer, actor and stand up comedian. Check back each Tuesday and Friday for more from FearTheReaper You may also enjoy his blog, Stop All Monsters.

(image) Jillian Vinters, a.k.a. the Lady of the Manners, was fascinated by the darker side of life even as a child, and embraced gothic culture as soon as she was old enough to wield a black eyeliner pencil. A harbinger of good taste, Jillian cared deeply what those is the gothic realm did with their... more

Jillian Vinters, a.k.a. the Lady of the Manners, was fascinated by the darker side of life even as a child, and embraced gothic culture as soon as she was old enough to wield a black eyeliner pencil. A harbinger of good taste, Jillian cared deeply what those is the gothic realm did with their eyeliner pencils. Thus, she became a go-to goth, and has been dishing out advice and tips via her website, Gothic-Charm-School.com, since 1998. Now her essays on the lifestyle and etiquette of the subculture have been compiled into a book, which is beautifully illustrated by Jillian's husband, noted fantasy artist Pete Venters.

In this excerpt Jillian explores one of the scene's biggest clichés, and explains why it's imperative that you don't let the people you care for fall victim to its claws.

Why Friends Don't Let Friends Dress Like The Crow

Ah, The Crow. Long ago, a new comic book appeared. Rendered in black and white, it was a violent, anguished story of lost love, and it was not your typical comic book story. It bracketed nightmarish images of despair and bloody retribution with poetry by Rimbaud and lyrics by The Cure and Joy Division. Word of mouth caused interest in the comic to grow amongst the blackclad types, until it began to seem that all Goths were required to have a copy (along with your tattered paperback of Interview with the Vampire, Sandman comics, dried roses, black boots, white face powder, and assorted eyeliner pencils). But even with the comic's near ubiquitousness amongst Goths, it still seemed like an "insider" sort of thing. If you saw someone reading an issue, you could (kind of) safely assume that the reader shared at least some of your interests and would understand the things you held close to your black romantic heart. This sort of thinking carried over, to a degree, when you saw someone in Crow makeup at a club or convention. Dressing like the Crow almost became a subcultural shorthand indicating a person's interests in other comics, movies, books, and music.

As time went by, the comic gained a higher profile in pop culture and then, lo and behold, the movie was made. And as adaptations go, the movie was pretty good. Brandon Lee did a stunning job, and his death was a tragic loss. But the movie brought the story of The Crow even higher visibility; the subsequent sequels, spin-off comics and novels, and TV show got even more attention. It wasn't a cult-following thing anymore-it suddenly seemed like just about everyone knew about The Crow. Which meant that people who weren't hard-core fans began co-opting the look. That was fine and dandy, for fashion is always about borrowing an idea you like and making it your own. But people weren't just taking inspiration from the imagery and adding it to their look; they were slapping on some whiteface and black lipstick and drawing black triangles around their eyes. Things got to the point where you couldn't go to a Goth club without seeing a flock of Crow-wannabes, most of whom had applied their makeup in a ham-fisted manner. The Crow is one of those classic
"insta-Goth" icons, but he has an easier look to copy than Dracula. Almost everyone recognizes it (those who don't probably assume the costumed person is impersonating someone from pro-wrestling or a black metal band), which is why people who want to play tourist and visit one of those "weird clubs with all the freaky people in black" pull on some black jeans, a black Tshirt, and a trench coat, slap on some black and white makeup, and head out, feeling confident that they'll "blend in." They don't. The idea is also being appropriated by people who aren't quite Goth, but SpoOoOKy. That is part of where the clichéd aspect of dressing like the Crow comes from, but there's another layer to the clichés.

Dressing like the Crow is also one of the great starter-Goth traditions; it's pretty much the male equivalent of dressing like Death from the Sandman comics, which almost every fledgling Goth girl does at least once. Again, it's that shortcut to spooooookiness that is the attraction. A pre-formed identity that allows the costumed person to feel not only Dark and Mysterious but as if he is part of an alternative subculture (while all he's really done is broadcast that he isn't as connected to that alternative subculture as he thinks).

Eventually people who settle into the Goth world and feel at home there stop needing those pre-formed identities and masks. They feel comfortable being themselves and not adopting what they thought was a required template. (And then they probably
go on to mock other people who are new to the scene and experimenting with appropriating the same subcultural icons. It's a vicious circle, Snarklings.)

Over the years, the Lady of the Manners has gone on and on (and on and on and on and . . .) about how friends don't let friends dress like the Crow. Dressing up like the Crow is considered by most Goths to be trite, overdone, and a bit like holding up a sign that says, "mostly clueless." But you know what? The Lady of the Manners also thinks that if you really, really, really want to dress up like the Crow, you should do it. If that is what makes you happy, if you think that would be the coolest Halloween costume ever for you, then do it. The Lady of the Manners does, however, have two pieces of advice. First: Accept the fact that people will roll their eyes, snicker, laugh, and generally try to make you feel like an idiot. Ignore them. Second: Do the best job you can with the makeup and assembling the costume. Apply the whiteface makeup evenly (over every bit of exposed skin, please, and that includes your ears and neck), and make sure the eyeliner and black streaks are symmetrical. Think long and hard about whether you have the proper physique to wear the costume; it is a sad, harsh fact that nothing becomes an object of ridicule faster than a heavier-set person dressed up as a character previously portrayed by Brandon Lee.

There is nothing wrong with dressing like one of your idols. (TheLady of the Manners dresses a bit like Mary Poppins's evil twin, which garners her some confused looks, so she wouldn't dream of telling someone not to dress like a fictional character.) So sure, go paint your face and put on your trench coat. Wind strips of electrical tape up your arms, even. Just understand that some people will assume you are trying to blend in with a subculture you aren't very informed about. Be prepared for snide looks and eye-rolling from some people, but do not let those snide looks diminish your enjoyment. Instead, smile back in a knowing (and, if you can manage it, faintly condescending) manner and then ignore them.


Excerpt from Gothic Charm-School courtesy of Harper Collins. Text copyright (c) Jillian Venters 2009. Printed with kind permission of Harper Collins and Jillian Venters.

Moby could be described as a reluctant celebrity. He first found his way into the collective consciousness with the 1992 rave anthem "Go." In the faceless world of techno culture success remained within his comfort zone. For the remainder of the decade he released his increasingly hybrid electronic-based... more

Moby could be described as a reluctant celebrity. He first found his way into the collective consciousness with the 1992 rave anthem "Go." In the faceless world of techno culture success remained within his comfort zone. For the remainder of the decade he released his increasingly hybrid electronic-based music with little fanfare outside of the dance world. His 1999 album Play, barely made a ripple in the ocean of record sales when it first came out.

However, after a series of high profile film, TV and ad licenses, Play was propelled into the mainstream and Moby into the media maelstrom with it. Track 5 from the album, "South Side," a little duet with Gwen Stefani, subsequently gained momentum, becoming an MTV staple for many months. It reached number 14 in the Billboard Hot 100 and number 3 on the Modern Rock singles chart in 2001. Play went on to sell over 10 million copies worldwide.

As film director David Lynch succinctly puts it, "Success is just as dangerous as failure, maybe more." In the years since "South Side" graced the charts, Moby has not exactly been chasing similar commercial success -- far from it -- however many automatically assume he has. After all, money and fame are the goals of every artist right?

Wrong. Back in October of last year, when SuicideGirls last spoke with Moby, he told us he wanted his next album to be "a really emotional, beautiful record." Expanding on the subject, he continued, "I don't know if I will succeed, but my goal is to make something very personal, very melodic, very beautiful. And hopefully interesting at the same time." By these standards, Moby has indeed succeeded, his new album, Wait For Me, being all that and so much more.

But, since contemporary society quantifies success in commercial terms, it's easy for certain areas of the media to talk about Moby and his post-Play music in disparaging terms. It's understandable therefore, that Moby looked upon his looming press day in Los Angeles to promote an "introspective" and "vulnerable" record that's the antithesis of commercial with a high degree of trepidation.

Nicole Powers: I was reading your blog. In a recent entry you say, "Headed to la tomorrow...Now I get to go and talk about myself to benign strangers." Are we the benign strangers?

Moby: Hopefully benign.

NP: It's an interesting choice of phrase. Have you been talking to some non-benign press lately?

M: It's one of those things where although I'm an American artist, I was born in New York, and I grew up in the States, I spend very little time here, and for some reason the States is the county where I'm most loathed.

NP: Well it's hard to be a hero in your own backyard.

M: I'm OK with not being a hero, what's strange though is being hated by so many people I've never met. Friends of mine will actually go online and read stuff. I don't read my own press anymore because a lot of it has been really negative. Not for the past year or so, but there was a period where so much stuff that was written about me was very vitriolic and very hateful, so as a result I just stopped reading it.

I'm not whining or looking for pity I'm just saying it's a little strange...Maybe I'm just too familiar. The people that hate me seem to be specifically a lot of the media in New York. It's just odd because I do find myself being a little bit nonplussed at what I've done to incur such wrath. Just a little bit bewildered. But, it is what it is and I can't be too concerned about it.

NP: I guess also you had that big hit with Gwen Stefani with "South Side" and that put a level of expectation out there that other people put on you that I know you never really felt yourself.

M: I grew up playing in punk rock bands and then DJing at tiny little clubs, and I never expected to have a record contract. I never expected to have any success. I certainly never expected any mainstream success, and so when I had some mainstream success it felt anomalous and confusing and unplanned for. I mean, there are musicians who, their whole life, strive for mainstream success.

NP: And the goal is fame and the music is a means to an end.

M: And it never even crossed my mind that that was possible [for me] 'cause when I was growing up the musicians I liked never sold records and never made money. I just assumed that for me to be a happy musician I would be an underground musician who would never sell records and never make money. So whenever I sold some records and made some money it was just very confusing.

NP: A happy accident?

M: Well, in hindsight I don't know how happy it was. I mean, at times I would have a degree of success, and then there were times when I liked it too much. Like after the success of the album Play.

When Play first came out it was a failure. When it was first released it sold nothing, it didn't get good reviews, it didn't get radio play. Then it slowly became this very big record and I got caught up in it a bit too much. I was drinking too much, and going out all the time, and dating the wrong people and going to red carpet events because I felt like we live in this culture that places such value on fame and wealth that when suddenly you have the opportunity to be famous you're supposed to do it.

Everybody just assumes that if you have the opportunity to be famous you're supposed to be famous 'cause it's going to make you happy. So I kind of went along with it and then at some point looked at what it was doing to me, and fame was in no way making me happy. If anything, it was making me confused and depressed. Most people, and I'm not complaining, again 'cause there are few things more annoying than a quasi-public figure complaining about the perils of public-figuredom...

NP: ...But you're in a position to have a choice about which route you want to go.

M: At some point I was touring and I was drinking and I was taking drugs and I was being degenerate, and I was doing all these stupid clichéd famous person things, and I'd never been less happy. So then I would drink more and make myself even less happy. And I realized as an institution, fame, there's nothing about it that's sustainable. It alienates people -- it alienates good people -- and it attracts the wrong people. Again, I don't want to sound like I'm complaining. I almost feel like I'm talking like an anthropologist, and I was the case study.

NP: It's interesting given the context, given where this particular album has come from. In the official album announcement on your website you talk about how you were inspired by David Lynch, his BAFTA lecture and a conversation the two of you had afterwards, where he spoke about how creativity shouldn't be purely judged by its success in the marketplace. Today a painting is judged by the price it fetches at auction and a recording artist is judged by the number of records they sell...

M: ...And living in New York or LA it's unfortunately easy to buy into that a little bit. Because you go out to parties with people who are in the media and when they say something's successful everyone just immediately assumes they're talking about how much money it's generated. So talking to David Lynch a couple of years ago, and hearing him talk about creativity, and how really art and music and literature and movies, they should be judged by how they affect someone emotionally; The subjective reaction of the audience is what makes something successful. So if a musician puts out a record and it sells poorly but is very important emotionally to the few people, that should be considered a successful record. But in the world in which we live that's not how people value things -- that's not how the media values things -- and I think that's regrettable.

NP: And your job as an artist is to create art, it's not necessarily to create something that anyone else likes.

M: I'm sort of a populist, so if I make a record I like the idea of other people responding favorably to [it], it just can't be that many people. It's like when I've had records that have sold millions of copies it's just been a mistake. That's not my lot in life. I'm not supposed to be that artist, and I don't know how it happened. And it's weird because the ramifications are very strange more than anything else. Now I feel I'm in the process of having to sort of force myself very hard to get back to what is actually really important to me, as a person, as a musician, which is making quiet introspective music that I love.

NP: And that's what this album is. I adore this album. It's like taking a warm bath. I was on SuicideGirls Twitter, and I said I was listening to the new Moby album, and someone replied saying, "techno? r u serious?" I responded: "Definitely not techno...very serious, and beautiful, and haunting, and melancholy." To me it's like listening to the seed of a dandelion floating away in the wind.

M: See in my mind, that makes me feel successful. Having one person tell me that I've done something that they like, it's clear, objective success as far as I'm concerned as opposed to random metrics presented to you by an accountant. That relationship between the musician and someone who is willing to listen to the music -- and it's hard for me to talk about it and not sound disingenuous, and not sound like an overly earnest grad student -- but I do think the musician and the listener, the relationship between the two, is sacred. There's a lot of responsibility that comes with it from a musician's perspective. If someone's going to take an hour and sit down and listen to a record I've made I should i]really try and make it worth their while.

I mean my job, it's serving. I try to serve the people who are willing to listen to my records -- specifically with this record. I think I lost the plot there for a little while about 5 years ago. 'Cause again, we live in this world where it seems like a lot of people work under the assumption that the rock star is supposed to be served by his or her audience, and I think it's exactly the opposite you know. The musician has a fairly sacred responsibility to try and create something of merit for anyone who's willing to pay attention to it. I know I say these things, and I think, am I really that earnest? But I guess I am.

NP: So what was the thought process with this record. Obviously Last Night was about you wanting to convey...

M: A fun dance record.

NP: What were you trying to convey with this record?

M: Musically, I like a lot of different types of music. I love speed metal and punk rock and I love quiet classical music, disco and folk music. I like just about everything. But the music that is most near and dear to me, the music that I love the most tends to be more quiet, introspective, personal music, and I realized that I've never made a genuinely quiet introspective record. Suddenly I woke up and said to myself, if that's the music that you love the most why isn't that the music that you're making.

NP: Did you come up with an answer to that question?

M: I think it's because again, there other genres of music that I really like. Like the last album, Last Night, I love dance music, and that was a record that was really fun to make...At the time I was drinking a lot and taking a lot of drugs and going out all the time, and DJing and having fun, so I wanted to make a record that kind of reflected that without a whole lot of self-analysis or introspection. But I do really like quiet, personal introspective music. That's the music that's the most precious to me.

I love a good old Clash record and I love listening to Pantera, I love listening to the Rolling Stones but the music that I adore the most is Nick Drake or Joy Division or Sigur Rós, quieter records and music that really aspire to be beautiful.

I tend to think of it in terms of there's social records and personal records. I love the Clash, it's very social. If you had 20 people over on a Friday night and you're all drinking beer put on a Clash record and it's great. Lying in bed at 9 o' clock on a rainy Sunday morning you want something that is more personal, and, as much as I love social records, it's those personal records that I tend to really cherish.

NP: So what else is in the Sunday morning collection?

M: I listen to a lot of classical music, a lot of quiet electronic music, everything from Nick Drake to Leonard Cohen. I mentioned Sigur Rós, some Radiohead songs, songs where you really feel the artist, whether they are or whether they aren't, but you feel as if the artist is making themselves vulnerable through their work.

Maybe that's it. Maybe there's vulnerable music and un-vulnerable music. It's the same thing with people. I love entertaining, funny people -- that's fun -- but people who are comfortable being emotionally honest and being vulnerable, that's the most attractive quality a person can have.

NP: It's easy for a guy to make and like loud punk rock music, because that's what guys are supposed to do, but for guys to make emotional, beautiful music, it's not considered as manly.

M: But luckily there's precedent for it. But you're right, there's so much music that is cool or fun or stylish or loud, and I like a lot of it, but it's that challenge for a man to make music that is more thoughtful and beautiful and introspective.

NP: And the flip side of that is, as a consumer, there's the music guys can admit to liking and there's the music they quietly listen to at home.

M: We live in a culture where there's so much focus on façade and presentation. Every rapper needs to be cool and tough, every indie rocker needs to be aloof and ironic, every speed metal punk rock guy needs to be tough, and after a while it's exhausting.

NP: I think it's why the Ramones T-shirt has become ubiquitous apparel because it's such a safe item of clothing to wear. It says you're edgy without the need to actually be edgy...

M: ...but you're still fun.

NP: Yeah. It's says all these things. But I often wonder how many people wearing those T-shirts really like the Ramones music, and how many would really rather listen to something completely different. It's that shorthand...

M: Yeah, and by taking such a position, by wearing a certain type T-shirt, by having a certain type of disposition, by making a certain type of art or music it's like they're ways to strategically make yourself immune from criticism. If you make music that is ironic, no one can criticize you because you're being ironic. If you make music that's cool and stylish, same thing, you can't be criticized for it. But, I live in the Lower East Side of Manhattan where there is so much stuff that's like ironic and cool and what have you, it exhausts me after a while.

NP: But the people who make that kind of music are a product of their environment, and it's such a snarky culture that you put the layer of irony in there as a protective barrier.

M: It's all these defences and buffers. Like I was on a train going back from DC to New York, and there was this guy behind me on his cell phone and he was talking like a rapper from 1991. I turned around and it was kind of an obese, white Jewish kid. It was so heartbreaking in a way, because he was just being protective and defensive.

The truth is the only people that are genuinely tough and cool are sociopaths. It's so easy to see in 4-year olds. Like if you go over to a friends house and there's a 4-year old who is being a bully and being tough, you know that they're scared. But with adults we don't see that; if someone's being tough and cool we kind of assume that they are tough and cool. There are no tough and cool people. Everybody's mortal, everybody's scared, everybody's afraid, everybody wants the same thing. They all want love and understanding and respect and compassion, and the only time they don't is when they're so emotionally broken that that part of themselves has been killed off.

So musically, with this record I wanted to try and make something that didn't have a lot of pretense to it. And I never know if I'm going to succeed at what I'm doing but I think if I go into something with intentions that are a little bit healthier it increases the chances that I'll accomplish what I'm trying to do.

NP: Do you have plans to do anything live?

M: I'm touring Europe this summer. I'm doing some very big festival shows, and then also some smaller shows in interesting venues. Like I'm playing in London at the Royal Festival Hall. It's this Meltdown Festival that's curated by Ornette Coleman. Patti Smith is playing, I'm playing, Yoko Ono's playing and it's a really interesting festival. So smaller shows like that and then big festivals. But coming to the States, I'm supposed to tour here, but it's kind of scary and daunting because I don't think anyone here likes [me]. I have his vision of touring America and having no one come to the shows I'm playing, which would be a good abject lesson in humility -- but I don't know if I necessarily need a month and a half of abject lessons in humility.

NP: It's been a while since you've done the full live show.

M: It's been a long time.

NP: When was the last time you did the full live show here?

M: Five years ago. And even then I didn't tour. Most of my touring was overseas, so in the States, maybe I'll play a tour of the States and play to fifty people a night, which would be an interesting juxtaposition; You're in Europe and you're playing to 100,000 people a night and you come home and you're playing to 50 people a night.

NP: I guess going back to the David Lynch scenario, if it leaves an impression on those 50 people.

M: A lot of it is context. There's nothing wrong with playing to 50 people a night as long as it's a venue that comfortably accommodates 50 people. Paying to 50 people in a venue that holds 2,000 people, that is tragic and depressing. I've been there. I mean the first time I played Italy was at a venue that holds 2,000 people and there were 8 people there. That's an empty venue.

NP: How long ago was that?

M: 1995. And so in the States if I'm touring and no one shows up, no one shows up. You make the best with what you have.

NP: Well I have a feeling that more than 50 people will show up.

M: You know, I do hope that you're right, but I don't know. Part of this is living in New York where a lot of people are very mean spirited and very snarky, and so I sometimes forget that there are people in the United States who are not inherently mean-spirited and snarky. I think living in the United States being criticized so much I've developed a little bit of a beaten dog complex.

NP: The level of snarkiness, it's group-think in New York. You can't beat them so it's easier to join the club. So everyone's out-snarking each other and it gets to a point where there's a rage of snarkiness. It makes people afraid to do anything that's outside of the safe realm of hipsterness because of the raging snark.

M: The raging snark -- it like a Roald Dahl book or something.

NP: It's a beast living in the heart of New Yorkers.

M: And it's weird because it's not everybody. There are nice people, but it's that culture of cruelty. I remember when the whole world of Gawker and Gothamist first started and the vitriol and scorn that was heaped on everybody. At first it was heaped on movie stars and musicians, and then editors and authors, and then suddenly everybody hated everybody else. Friends of mine who were assistants to interior decorators were getting torn apart on these gossip sites. I guess the only good thing about that is that it's democratic vitriol, like everybody's hated.

NP: Do we need to send New Yorkers to group therapy?

M: I think maybe you have to appeal to people's self-interest. And the simple question I would like to ask people is, on your deathbed what do you want to remember? You're lying on your deathbed and you're looking back at your life, do you really want to remember going online and writing nasty things about people you've never met? Like that's your life's accomplishment. Or do you want to remember working hard and helping people, and being nice to the people around you and being a good, loving, compassionate, tolerant, understanding person? If I was on my deathbed I'd much rather remember aspiring to be a good, decent, compassionate person than writing nasty things about public figures, but also I'm biased because I just want people to stop writing nasty things about me.


Wait For Me is released June 30. The video to the first single, "Shot in the Back of the Head," which was animated by David Lynch, can be viewed HERE.

Most of the time I get the Republican mindset. More often than not, it is just team vs. team. Their astounding hypocrisy knows no bounds. When in control, they say one thing, but when not in control, they immediately flock to the position they formerly criticized. It’s actually quite amusing. As... more

Most of the time I get the Republican mindset. More often than not, it is just team vs. team. Their astounding hypocrisy knows no bounds. When in control, they say one thing, but when not in control, they immediately flock to the position they formerly criticized. It’s actually quite amusing. As far as big business goes, they’ll bend over anyway they can and have quite a few Americans convinced screwing themselves over is the way to go. Their economic policies have destroyed our country and I find it hard to believe they still stand behind their ideas, but they serve their corporate masters, so I get it. Yet once again, they have come with an attack that is so shockingly stupid it is beyond my comprehension. Their attacks on Obama over his decision to not strongly criticize the Iranian government are astoundingly stupid. You’ve got to wonder if they actually believe taking such a ridiculously stupid stance is real, or if they will just say the opposite of whatever Obama believes.

Well, first of all, we are not for human rights all over the world. That’s the dumbest argument ever made. We just aren't. We never have been and we never will be. We’re about money and that’s all we are “for” all over the world. To believe otherwise is to deny history and reality.

But let me back up for a moment and just focus on Iran. If there is one country in the world that we owe the favor of staying out of their business to, it is Iran; America has alreadyruined Iran. The reason Iran is a theocracy is because of the United States of America. It’s called fucking yourself in the ass. It is one our greatest failures. We did more than “meddle” in Iran; in 1953 we helped to overthrow its democratically elected government, installed the brutal Shah and sent Iran on the path to dictatorship. It eventually led to the Islamic Revolution. That’s called “Blowback.” In the 1980’s we supported our friend Saddam Hussein in his war with Iran, which cost hundreds of thousands of Iranian lives. We even shot down an Iranian passenger jet in the ‘80s. Can you imagine if Iran had shot down one of ours?

Now, after years of belligerently stupid foreign policy, Obama has taken a different tact. It’s actually smart, which I’m sure confuses the Iranian leaders. They had become accustomed to the ignorant and simplistic responses of George Bush. Obama has chosen to take the “soft diplomacy” route and it’s already paying off. During his Cairo speech, he addressed Iran.

It’s hard to call someone the “Great Satan” when Satan is admitting mistakes. I know that’s difficult for the idiots in the GOP to understand, but that’s how it works. By not responding in kind, Obama has shown the belligerence of Iranian leaders to Iranians. They have been on the path to democracy for a long time. It’s a very slow one and should be. Iranians were already upset that their president’s language has caused economic isolation. It is causing massive unemployment and now that the US president is not responding like a mirror belligerent idiot, the focus is on one man as the problem: Ahmadinejad,

But the Republicans want us to keep swinging the big, dumb stick – because it's worked out so well over the past 8 years.

No, actually, they question if we believe in our principles because we support brutal regimes like Saudi Arabia, Egypt and Pakistan. They’re not idiots who believe in words over action. Those are your minions you are thinking of.

First, I don’t think in the closet gay guys should be talking about leading anything, not that being gay has anything to do with Senator Graham. Second, I cannot believe anyone would be so dumb as to not understand that if we take a side, then the Iranian government can call the protesters “tools” of the United States. Seriously, how can you be that stupid? I honestly can’t understand it.

Also, the idea that Obama making a harsh statement would have an uplifting affect on the Iranian protesters is shockingly arrogant. Get over yourselves. How is this supposed to work?

Protestor: Today I take to the streets for my vote! I am willing to die for this cause. Justice must be served!

Obama: The Iranian leaders are super bad. I’ve got your back with words but not action!

Protestor: Oh, man, I was only kind of into this stuff, but now I’m really, really into it! I will now overthrow my government because some dude living in another country said he likes me.

That pretty much seems to be what people like McCain and Graham actually think is going to happen. One “atta boy” from the president and the game is changed. America likes you! Now you can have an awesome revolution! It’s so moronic I can barely wrap my head around it.

In reality, the statement McCain and company want would do serious harm to those Iranians taking on their government. Once they are labeled as associated with the United States, they will be murdered. As of now, the security forces are actually showing restraint. But Republicans seem to think having a segment of the Iranian population aligned with “The Great Satan” is wise. Amazing. And I’m giving them the benefit of the doubt. I’m believing them to be sincere. If they are not and this is just another political game and they are criticizing Obama because they want to take the opposing view due to party politics – then they are more disgusting than I could ever imagine because lives are on the line. That is inexcusable.

The sad thing is the protesters aren’t even asking for western type democracy. Most Iranians want a religious government of some sort. What they are in the streets fighting for is the small bit of self rule they were allowed. As one man in the street said, “They’ve taken away the sham of electing someone.” Republicans, and many other Americans, are putting their own spin on it. At best, they want to believe a democracy will emerge from this mess, but that’s not part of the equation yet. This is just a small step in that direction and it’s going very well. (At worst, do they even care about democracy? It's not like Republican's were actually that keen on counting votes or even allowing all eligible Americans to cast them in recent elections.)

The Iranian government will never be the same. Ever. For us, that’s a pretty good deal. So, let’s stay out of this one. We have two reasons for doing so. First, our involvement would backfire on those people we want to succeed. Second, we owe them. We own the Iranian people for every horrible thing we have done. We owe them for subjecting them to 26 years of a brutal dictator followed by 30 years of an oppressive religious government. We did that and it’s time to take the moral high ground.

If we don’t – you can pretty much guarantee the opposite of what we want
will occur.

FearTheReaper is a writer, actor and stand up comedian. Check back each Tuesday and Friday for more from FearTheReaper You may also enjoy his blog, Stop All Monsters.

Daniel Ash has had a tumultuous recent past. Having reunited with Peter Murphy, Kevin Haskins and David J in 2005 for a now legendary performance at the Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festiva, iconic goth rock band Bauhaus released their first new studio album in 25 years in March 2008. Sadly, the reunion... more

Daniel Ash has had a tumultuous recent past. Having reunited with Peter Murphy, Kevin Haskins and David J in 2005 for a now legendary performance at the Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festiva, iconic goth rock band Bauhaus released their first new studio album in 25 years in March 2008. Sadly, the reunion had already faltered by then, with David J citing explosive chemistry as the reason in a SuicideGirls interview published that month. Moving on without Murphy, the trio regrouped under their post-Bauhaus band moniker, Love and Rockets, playing Coachella in April '08 and Lollapalooza the following August. After the last epic chord died down, Ash retreated to his Ojai home, seeking solace on the open road with the one thing he loves more than his guitars: his motorcycles.

All remained quiet for many months, until his friend and sometime manager Christopher Minister (whom Ash affectionately refers to as "The Minister"), persuaded him to come down to Swing House, a rehearsal and recording complex in Hollywood, to participate in a session for a new in-house project. One thing led to another, as things do, and Ash ended up producing the project (which features vocalist Zak Ambrose). Reinvigorated by working with a fresh mix of people, Ash is now looking forward to taking on more production work. In the meantime his Swing House buddy, The Minister, has compiled a Love and Rockets tribute album entitled New Tails To Tell, which features covers by The Flaming Lips, The Dandy Warhols and Puscifer, among others. SuicideGirls caught up with Ash at the studio to talk about his new music, needless to say, the conversation soon turned to motorcycles. One has to wonder if the Swing House recording sessions are merely an excuse for the 160 mile round trip on his bike.

NP: So why are you here? What brings you to the Swing House?

DA: Well, four five weeks ago, Chris just called me up and he asked me if I wanted to play bass on this song called "Rock On," which was an old song from the seventies with David Essex. I've always loved that song. Love and Rockets used to play it live. We used to just play it for fun, so I knew the song really well...I ended up producing it and putting a bunch of guitars on and doing some vocals...It's just like a one-off thing at the moment, but I think it's a valid version. It sounds very contemporary, very now.

NP: Can you see yourself taking The Swing House Sessions project into an album?

DA: Yeah. That's the idea. I've got a few things that I'm working on, some brand new material. It's very strange these days, what do you do with an album? That sort of concept doesn't exist anymore.

NP: Record labels still want you to deliver an album, but on the internet they're just individual song files.

DA: Because of the internet, and all that, people have the attention span of a mosquito. They haven't got the patience to sit down and listen to an album. It's the times that we live in. Personally, I've always loved the idea of the three and a half minute single. So for me to do one track here, or EPs of two or three tracks, I find it really appealing, just all the good stuff without any filler tracks. Because how many times do you buy the album, and there's like ten or eleven songs on there and you like three of them if you're lucky?

I think the idea of putting out your absolute cream, what you perceive to be the absolute cream of what you do, just the idea of condensing it all into two or three tracks, I find really appealing.

NP: It makes sense. But the way record labels work you're forced to put the filler tracks out....

DA: ...and when CDs came out you had to put more music [on them]. In the old days when it was vinyl I think it was about 17 minutes a side. Now, because you can get 75 minutes worth of music on a CD, people are pressurized by record companies to put more music on, which is absolutely ridiculous.

NP: And the internet makes it too easy to post anything and everything.

DA: That's the downside of the internet. Because everything is so accessible nothing is special anymore.

NP: But the immediacy is also exciting when a creative endeavor has a natural flow like this.

DA: It is actually growing organically. The last time I was here it was so productive, we got this track that I think is really strong, in about six hours. We have to work quick here, because there are other people coming in, and there are financial concerns. It's really good and healthy to actually have a limit on how much time you can be in here for. On a creative level, for me, that really works, to be pressurized to get it all done, otherwise I get over fussy on everything.

NP: I was reading somewhere that you're not a fan of guitar solos.

DA: I don't care about the guitar solo, it's just a means to an end. I don't know anything about guitars. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I don't really, as long as it sounds OK, sounds right, feels good to play. I never practice or anything like that. It's not of interest at all. Maybe it's just because I've been doing it so long. In that respect, I'm much more into motorcycles. I could see a bike from half a mile away and tell you what it is...but the guitar thing, I just use a Telecaster most of the time and that's it. I'm into the overall song, that's why I want to get more and more into production, because I did have a big hand in the production of Bauhaus, Love and Rockets, and Tones on Tail, and the solo stuff. That's something I think I've got a good ear for.

NP: Going back to the song, the song is kind of lost in American music today. It's more about a certain sound that will fit into a certain slot.

DA: Yeah, I think more than ever because it's so corporate. I find, if I listen to the radio, these so-called modern rock bands, they all sound the same. They've all got that male, gruff, sort of like, "I'm in pain, I'm in pain" [vocal], that sort of real male, masculine thing, which I find really boring. I like stuff that's more androgynous anyway on the whole. I used to love Scritti Politti because that guy's voice sounds like an angel. It's not male or female. I love that stuff. All this horrible testosterone-driven rock music is so boring to me.

One thing I notice more than anything is, because peoples' attentions spans are so short now, the record companies are making sure that there are never any instrumental breaks. I don't know if you've noticed this, we're talking about the Top 40 radio stations, they never take a break from vocals. Every moment is taken up with vocals, vocals, vocals, all the way through. You do not hear any instrumental solos or breaks anymore, and it's really boring. If you just turn on the commercial radio station, it's all vocals all the time.

NP: I hadn't even thought about that, but you're right.

The economic climate now is very similar to the one Bauhaus grew up in in the '80s in England. There was high unemployment, and even looking for a job wasn't a viable option since there were none out there, so joining a band and doing something creative was a sensible use of time.

DA: Yeah. Well in England we have terrible weather, so that keeps everybody in anyway, and it's either zoning out to DVDs or doing something creative like music or some art form. I mean it's very tough, living in Southern California, for me to discipline myself, to sit down and try and write and stuff because it's sunny everyday and I just want to go out on the bike.

NP: I always find California punk music rather amusing. Because punk was born out of a dark, gritty, dirty misery that you just don't get in California. California punk is kind of goofy, which, to me, is an oxymoron.

DA: Yeah, but the thing is though, the kids that weren't jocks and any good at school, and didn't get the girls and all that stuff, they're all over the place -- they're the ones that go into their bedrooms and start making weird music. Then they have their day when they're in their twenties instead of the jocks who have their day when they're seventeen, eighteen at school. We all have our little moment, different people at different times. You often find the guy that was really popular at school now sells car insurance.

NP: So where were you in the pecking order at school?

DA: Right down at the bottom, me and Pete. We were the two little faggots at the back of the class as far as the school was concerned. We just used to go to the art room the whole time instead of playing football and stuff like that. I was only any good at art and English. Pete the same. We were just two friends together that didn't fit in at all with the whole jock thing. Well we don't call it jock in England. What do we call it?

NP: It's more about footie (soccer) culture.

DA: I think I went to a soccer match once in my whole life. I was fifteen or something and I had no interest at all, but I thought, "Well, I'll go to see what this is about." And guys were throwing darts at each other. I just saw that, and got out of there and never went back. I've no comprehension of the appeal of that.

NP: Guys would go, not to watch a football match, but just to have a ruck [fight].

DA: It's that testosterone thing again. It's like if there's not a war going on a lot of males have to go and fight each other or destroy things. It's a guy thing.

NP: There's a theory that it's testosterone that's responsible for the current financial downfall. It was all the guys on Wall Street taking testosterone-driven risks.

DA: Yeah. I can totally see that. Absolutely. There's 2012 coming up with the whole Mayan Calendar. Time as we know it coming to an end, and I don't think that's a negative thing at all. I personally think it's going to be the beginning of a shift in consciousness -- obviously to a higher level. I think it's going to be the beginning of the next phase of human evolution as far as our intelligence goes, and our spirituality. That's what I'm hoping anyway.

We, as a race, are being forced into it financially, because of this big meltdown of finances. It's going to make us re-think. If we don't come through this, and it's a huge depression like the thirties or worse, it's going to make us as human beings re-think our values, our value-system is going to make a shift. I think there's going to be a lot of turmoil and a lot of grief before it happens, but after the initial storm, we're supposed to have a thousand years of a Utopian civilization.

NP: So in 2012 you'll have to shift to more Utopian music too.

DA: Well, I never really think about the music stuff. As long as I can still have my supply of gasoline for my bikes, because I don't want to be running motorcycles on electric -- that sounds really boring. I'm being super selfish here.

NP: You wouldn't covert them to vegetable oil?

DA: No. I love the smell of gasoline, and petrol and oil. I'm a total hypocrite on that stuff. But it makes me laugh when they talk about the emissions -- like we might have to do smog tests for motorcycles. That to me is so ridiculous because they do about forty miles to the gallon no matter what size it is, and it's so much less wear and tear on the roads and everything else. If you think about the aircrafts that are taking off out of LAX and all over the world everyday, the amount of pollution that's coming from motorcycles is so miniscule in comparison. I think it's just an excuse to get people off of motorcycles actually. But I just found them so therapeutic since I was about ten or twelve-years old. It's my yoga...You'd be amazed on how it clears the head.

NP: It's that sense of freedom. In a car, you're out in the world but you're still in a bubble.

DA: Well, the bikers call cars cages...Because you have a screen on a car, you're not feeling the elements like you do on a bike, so you're getting half the sensation of travel...I go off into the middle of nowhere, go to mountain tops. I don't think anything of going fifty or a hundred miles for breakfast...

NP: I was in the Angeles Crest National Forest a few weeks ago.

DA: Oh, I was there two weeks ago...When I lived in LA, seven or eight years ago, I used to go there all the time. I discovered it by accident, but it's terrific, there's about fifty miles to the top, it's about 5,000 miles above sea level. It's a great ride.

NP: Where else do you like to ride?

DA: Well, I go up the 33, which is way out near Ventura. You get on the 33 and you just ride and ride and ride and it takes you to Bakersfield and all over.

NP: What do you ride most of the time?

DA: I like English and American bikes. I've got a few Harleys and a few Triumphs.

NP: Any favorites?

DA: I've got one in England. I've got this old 1950 [Triumph] 5T Speed Twin. All the Triumphs I've got over here are new ones from 1995 to 2005 so they're super reliable. There's one, it's called a Thunderbird, that was based on an early Kawasaki engine, that's the story, that's how they developed the engine to make sure it was going to be reliable. I've had that thing since 1995 and it's never let me down once. I just ride it and ride it and ride it. They're super reliable. They're just like all the good stuff about the old bikes but with the reliability of the Japanese bikes, so it's the best of both worlds.

NP: Are you involved in any of the organized bike culture in America?

DA: No. I've always ridden on my own. But there is this thing called Dice Magazine, and it's terrific. It's a small mag, it's full of English humor, and the photos in it are hilarious. What these guys do is they used old panheads, shovelheads, some evo engines, old Triumph engines from the '50s, '60s and '70s, BSAs, Nortons, and they just make them look really interesting and functional, and they've got style. You should check this magazine out.

NP: I remember reading something in Dice about the fact that a county in Florida had changed its right to assemble laws to stop bikers riding out together.

DA: Yeah. That's a drag. That reminds me of what happened in England.

NP: With the Rave Act (Criminal Justice and Public Order Act 1994).

DA: Yeah. Did that actually go through?

NP: It did.

DA: But did it last? Is it still the case now?

NP: Absolutely. Obviously you were involved in rave culture, did you know that Joe Biden was the guy that penned the American anti- rave act (Drug Anti-Proliferation Act of 2003? Our Vice President basically shut down rave culture -- it's never recovered from that.

DA: Yeah...It's scaled right down now. But I think a part of that is just that things move on. We had that whole thing, which was connected to ecstasy, and now, I'm not sure, but it seems like people got bored with that drug, and that music, and people are back into bands again. But I think it's coming up again, DJ culture. I think everything's mixing up more and more now. It needs to anyway, it can't really go anywhere else.

This thing is not a dance track though, it's a full-on rock track. I mean there's a real drummer on it. We're not playing to a click track. We're actually rocking out.

NP: Could you see yourself playing live with these guys?

DA: You know, it's totally open at the moment. I just decided I needed to start working again, and do something new musically. But it's really tough, because of what I said before. What's an album these days? If you make an album everybody downloads it for nothing, and the only way you can make a living and actually survive is if you get your stuff on film and TV or if you play live.

I've been playing live for so long I really do not cherish the idea of going on the road again. I've done it for thirty years. I'm done with that. But the idea of doing a few one off shows would be fun. Personally I'd like to get into producing bands that I find really interesting now or film and TV work, that's really where I want to go.

NP: You had a track on Nip/Tuck...

DA: Yeah. "Fever." That was great. They used the whole song as well. I was really thrilled that they actually used it. I have no problem at all with what people call "selling out." If you create quality stuff that you feel OK with, and if it happens to be really popular, that to me is just a massive plus. But some people tend to think, because of the bands that I've been involved with, that you've got to be all obscure and left of center and indie. I hate that word indie -- with a passion. It means limited, to me. The whole idea of being independent from the massive record companies is cool, but it just smacks of limitations.

NP: And a reverse snobbism.

DA: Absolutely. I remember years ago, with Love and Rockets, we had this one hit, "So Alive." It was a big commercial hit and I was thrilled, and then the people that loved us, a lot of them were going, "Sold out! Sold out!" What do you mean? We just at last had a bit of commercial success. What's wrong with that?

NP: And you couldn't really help the fact that people liked your music.

DA: Well, why would you do it otherwise? Do you want to appeal to 200 people or 2 million? It's a no-brainer answer as far as I'm concerned. I've always thought like that, right from Bauhaus days. The first single we ever put out was nine and a half minutes long, "Bela Lugosi's Dead." That's commercial suicide, but the next single was called "Dark Entries," and I had fantasies of being on Top of The Pops [the UK's number one chart show at the time] with this. We didn't have a hope in hell because it was so dark compared to what you get on Top of the Pops, but in my head I was like, "God! Wouldn't that be great to get on that big commercial program." I've got no problem with that.

What's this American Idol stuff? That's the bad side of it all. I can't watch that program. It makes be cringe so much. That's the bad side of it all. That's the real commercial, manufactured, safe, appealing to the absolutely lowest common denominator with some song that was written forty years ago. The people that sing those songs I don't think could write a good song if their life depended on it. Those kids that are singing them, they can't write their own stuff.

NP: It's the safe thing that upsets me most. So much about why you're so passionate about music as a kid is that spark of rebellion -- it's important to the psychological process of cutting the umbilical chord. The music you listen to is a way of saying "fuck you" to your parents.

DA: Absolutely. That's why rap music became huge, because a lot of kids, the white kids who were listening to rap, their parents were listening to Led Zeppelin, so they couldn't stand rap. "Where's the guitars? There's no this, there's no that..." The kids loved it because it was pissing off mum and dad.

NP: I feel sorry for kids now. What do you listen to to piss off your parents?

DA: I don't think that music is probably as important for this generation as it was for the MTV/'80s generation. It all was about the music and videos in the '80s, now it isn't because you've got all these other distractions. I think music will always be essential to humans, but it's not as be-all-and-end-all as it was in the '70s and '80s -- or even in the '60s when this whole thing exploded...What can you do now? It really does feel now that it's all been done. Where can you go from here? Is that the case? You can't say what it is going to be next – otherwise you'd do it.

NP: I think that's a question people have been asking for about 10 years now and no one's come up with an answer.

DA: I don't know. Of course I don't. You don't know. Otherwise we'd be doing it, and it'd be the new big thing. I suppose there was the invention of the electric guitar, which changed everything. From the big band sound, suddenly Les Paul invented the electric guitar and then suddenly you had rock & roll in the late '50s with Elvis Presley, Little Richard, Gene Vincent, that whole thing.

NP: And then the invention of the synthesizer.

DA: Yeah, and then you had The Human League, Depeche Mode etc...

NP: Tracking though your music in Bauhaus and Love and Rockets, what were the most important bits of gear that sent you on a course musically?

DA: We didn't change our gear forever. I use the same amps that I used way back, and the same guitar.

NP: But you also do the programming stuff.

DA: Yeah, well that was just using loops. I got so bored with working with just an acoustic guitar, writing songs like that, it became so boring. So then, this is early Love and Rockets, we were listening to The Orb, and Orbital, and that whole thing took us over, and then we came out with this album Hot Trip To Heaven, which we were really pleased with but there's no guitars on it as such, it was all created in the studio. I personally thought it was either going to be our Dark Side of the Moon or commercial suicide and it unfortunately turned out being complete commercial suicide because people that like Love and Rockets they couldn't hear any guitars and stuff.

But we had to change. As a band I know David, myself and Kevin, we get bored really quickly, so we have to sort of move on and sometimes we shoot ourselves in the foot because of that. Just when we're on a winner, when everything is going good, we get bored and then we change it all around -- but that's being English as well. That's a very English thing to do, putting a spanner in the works. It's that sort of fatalistic attitude.

NP: So are you guys going to be doing anything?

DA: No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. We've worked together since 1980. I really want to work with new people, I'm sure everybody feels the same. I just want to completely break away from all that. It feels like a million years ago anyway. Time to change. Can you imagine working with the same people since 1980? What are we now? 2009? We played Coachella and Lollapalooza last year and that's it.

NP: I always think that with bands, it's worse than a marriage. When you're married you can divorce, but when you're in a band you're forever connected. Even after to die you're connected, there's...

DA: ...that history. Yeah, I know. I mean, I can't do it. I can't talk to the guys about it. I mean I don't use email. I don't. Other people look at me like I'm from another planet but I tried it once for about a month and couldn't stand it. I just use the telephone, you know. I don't use email.

There's these bikers that I met actually, and they weren't old farts, they were in their 20s, and they say, "Yeah, we call it e-jail, because you're just stuck there answering email all night when you could be out riding or doing whatever you want to do." And I thought, I wanna shake your hands guys. These are the first people I've met that agree with me -- that it's a trap.

NP: I do believe that we create our own prisons, and when you're in a band, you inadvertently create a massive wall around yourself.

DA: Absolutely. It can become a big jail. I remember seeing an interview with Sting a few years back, and when The Police were at the height of their fame they'd never been more miserable, as people, in their lives. And I think the reason for that is they were trapped. They were in a gilded cage. I mean you can't walk down the street, you can't do this, you can't do that, you can't just relax, you've always got this thing, a monster called in their case "The Police" on your back. You've got three guys trying to get on and there's all the pressures that go with it. What is the teenage fantasy becomes a nightmare when you get that sort of success. I mean can you imagine being The Beatles? At one stage they even bought an island to get away from everybody, and the natives had pictures of them in their mud huts! They couldn't get away. So they ended up just being holed up in these flash hotels.

NP: I can imagine with Love and Rockets, when people have an image of what that band is and they want you to replicate that for the next record -- you tell an English person to go do this...

DA: ...They'll do that. That's me completely. Yeah. Absolutely. But I think that's why we have got that creative spark. It's a funny little island. We're separate from the rest of Europe, and it's that English awkwardness. It's sort of charming in a way, but we have it so bad in England, it's sort of the antithesis of what we've got over here really. We're real optimists, particularly in California I think. It's such an opposite to that English thing...It's a completely different attitude. I know which I prefer, because when I go to England I notice that sort of cynicism, particularly where I come from, right in the middle of the country.

It's pretty severe there. I remember years ago when I was a kid all the bands would come through Northampton to test themselves out. If they could get some cheers from a Northampton audience they knew they were going to be OK, because it was the toughest town in the whole country for that. That's where we come from. I mean, Bauhaus, could you imagine, we were criticized for everything. They either loved us or hated us there was no in between -- which actually is a healthy thing really.

NP: And there's also that English thing where they love to hate.

DA: They love to see people fail in any area -- they love it. Then they also love the underdog as well, so you can't win. I see that in myself so much. Also being a Catholic doesn't help. When you're brought up being a Catholic that's a tough one.

NP: Are you still?

DA: No way. No, I resent that religion with a passion. I really hate it. I don't agree with organized religion anyway, but the Catholic religion is outrageous, what it's done to people over the years I think it's outrageous.

NP: Do you believe in a god?

DA: Oh, that's a real big question. You know what? I don't know, but I lean towards reincarnation, not in the sense that I'm coming back, but I think that we reincarnate through our DNA. If you don't have kids as an individual, that doesn't matter, because as a race we're reincarnating all the time from one generation to the next through our DNA. That's how I think it works. Our soul really is our DNA, that's the stuff with all the memory banks. I've got the DNA of my great-great-great-grandparents in me and so have you right from the beginning.

NP: And you can extrapolate that to music, today's music contains the DNA of everything that has come before.

DA: Yeah. It's alive through that. That's the way I see the reincarnation thing working. I think a lot of people can't accept the fact that they're not coming back. It makes them feel terrible. I, personally, don't care about that. It doesn't bother me -- I don't think it does anyway. I don't care about dying at all, but I do care about how I'm going to die. I don't want to die in agony -- that's the difference.

NP: But you take risks with the biking thing?

DA: Yeah, absolutely. I ride carefully, but I couldn't not ride because I get such a positive thing from it. I get a lot of my ideas when I'm riding. It's therapy. I like doing 80 miles an hour, then I feel at home and relaxed -- which is a bit strange but true.

It makes you focus, and that is meditation. They call motorcycle riding the lazy man's Zen, 'cause it forces you to concentrate, because if you don't you could die, or you're really going to hurt yourself or somebody else, whatever, so you have to concentrate. If you haven't got the discipline to concentrate on one thing, you're forced to because you're doing 80, 90 miles an hour -- so you have to concentrate...in effect you're doing a type of meditation. It's a mental discipline and ultimately it sets you free when you do that.

NP: Do you give any nods to keep Al Gore happy? Any carbon offsetting.

DA: Well I ride bikes most of the time. I'm actually in a car today, I had the guitar and stuff I had to bring down.

NP: Yeah, motorcycles aren't really good for transporting gear.

DA: No. But most of the time when I come down here I come on a bike. It costs me $8 to do 160 miles...so that's my thing.


The Daniel Ash vs Zak Ambrose version of "Rock On" will be released on The Swing House Sessions Volume I on June 23. New Tales To Tell, the Love and Rockets tribute record will be released digitally on July 28th and physically on August 18. Both project are available via Justice Records.