Imagine my astonishment when I opened the April 29 issue to your "Music Awards," as you like to call it. The only reason I even looked at your shitrag was to see if you excluded Viva Caramel from your Punk category. We did not want to be involved in this. In the two years that the band has been together, not once have we received any coverage in the Scene, nor have we wanted any. Your lame-ass coverage of lame-ass local bands leaves a lot to be desired. We do not want to be associated with the likes of you or the other bands in this Music Awards farce.
We do well enough on our own. I know that there were repeated efforts to obtain information for this issue; we did not supply any, so why was there inaccurate information printed? Who wrote the extremely wrong write-up? Can they pull their head out of their ass? In the future, I would appreciate if we were left alone by Scene.
Once again, I will be damned to be associated with the Scene. I really thought that you would have gotten the message when we did not reply, but you didn't, so I had to write this nasty letter. I hope now that you understand that your magazine is a piece of shit, and you will do well to leave the Viva Caramel alone.
David Martin responds: If any incorrect information was printed, we apologize. This, of course, could have been avoided if Viva Caramel had returned our calls seeking accurate information about the band. And it's not true Viva Caramel has never been written about in Scene. I had positive things to say about the band's opening set in a January Livewire review of the Terrifying Experience. I liked you then, and my shittiness notwithstanding, still like you now.
One Reader's Fein Observations
Thank you for your balanced and fair coverage of the deportation case against Noel Cassidy ["The Revolutionary Next Door," April 22]. All too often, the media take shortcuts or work from preconceived notions in order to get a story out quickly; however, it was impressive to read that Mike Tobin had done his homework and that Scene's editors had the foresight to recognize the story's merit. I would like to point out two inaccuracies found in the story, though.
1) Sinn Fein is not the political arm of the IRA. It is the political party for nearly 165,000 law-abiding nationalists as well as a minute number of IRA members. Sinn Fein is one of the largest and oldest political parties in the North of Ireland and represents 18 percent of the voters in the aforementioned region, where the largest party claims only 22 percent.
2) "Cassidy is keenly aware of the incongruity of his life compared to his daughter's--one nine-year-old watching movies and getting glasses, another getting arrested and losing a friend in an IRA raid." Losing a friend in an IRA raid? To what is this referring? If it is the Dublin-Monaghan bombing in 1974, where Noel's best friend was murdered, then you should be aware that the bombing wasn't an IRA raid. The Dublin-Monaghan bombings were carried out by the British military and loyalist paramilitaries through RUC collusion. This was blamed on the IRA as a British propaganda stunt. If you need further proof, the Irish government has ordered a new inquiry into this tragedy, based on new evidence provided by RUC and British military personnel.
Again, thank you for the terrific story and a job well done! I'm looking forward to future coverage of Cassidy's case and other hard-hitting stories.
via the Internet
Giving Bad Music a Good Name
I am appalled by the review of Blue yster Cult given in the April 29 issue ["The Oblivion Express," by John Jesitus]. Blue yster Cult has a monumental amount of talent, and the quality of the music they author on a continual basis is a foundation of the rock and roll we hear today. Their music is poetry, dabbled with nuances of classical, jazz, heavy metal, and yes, even country. I'd rather listen to new records by them than 90 percent of the re-made, one-hit-wonder trash we call music today. I'll file your name along with the Knack, Green Day, and the Cardigans as names I'd rather forget while I'm toasting to the supreme heroes of rock-and-roll history--Blue Oyster Cult, Judas Priest, and Jefferson Starship. Go trash somebody that really deserves it, like Toni Basil.
As an occasional reader of Scene, I usually find the articles and reviews well-written, with a succinct yet casual style. I was highly disappointed, however, by the review of the suburban club Dance.com ["No Aesthetic Required," April 29]. The attempt to sort through the writer's lackluster attempt at sarcasm and pedestrian humor was much like untangling vines in a tropical rain forest, only to find dense underbrush. This piece more closely resembled a patchwork quilt of insults to patrons and inaccurate observations than an objective, critical review.
Although the writer of the article maintained that the club is laden with velvet couches, a brain-dead observer would note that there is no velvet upholstery to be found. Rather than presenting a picture of the atmosphere, service, and types of cocktails in the establishment, the writer knocked the clientele and insulted the co-owners.
This jumbled collection of insignificant details failed to portray the ambience of the club, and it contained perplexing attempts at comedy. What do the paparazzi have to do with beer? It is true that the colorful carpet might be over the edge, but nightclubs are places where fun and fantasy reign--they aren't usually decorated by Martha Stewart. If fun, socializing, and 1980s dance music aren't on your agenda for an evening, stay home. It sounds as if you are more suited for a night with your VCR than in an adult nightclub.
Name withheld upon request