Terrible
Eddy Burke: guitar & vocals Ace Cheeley: drums Justin Helmer: throat
Matt Allen: bass Spooner Idzerda: sound
Terrible at the Java Joint, circa 1997
el libro de Terriblé
Quite some time ago, in a city-state a fair piece down the road, something happened that would forever change the sleepy hamlet of St. Cloud. A convergence of four lads with a song in their hearts and evil gleams in their eyes. There was only one possible word to describe this once-in-a-lifetime phenomenon--that one word that would become synonymous with their music: TERRIBLE.
Guitarist Eddy "Skizzy" Burke, and Vocalist T.F. "Hairy" Hippy joined up with Ace "Lanky" C. to form a band originally called "Me Sucking Another Guy's Dick." They soon changed their name to the more marketable (and as it happens more accurate) "Terrible." In 1996 a Bassist, Eugiñe "Whiny" B. Muff pi, was added and Terrible was complete.
This is the only known surviving copy of the lyrics to Terrible's music. From the lighthearted "Human Wasteland" to the starkly serious "Sodomize Me." These lyrics are reproduced from original manuscripts*, complete with sketches, notes, and various other things. The originals are assumed to be lost having been written on everything from napkins to cigarette packs, to scraps of unused toilet paper.
The members of Terrible would never be the same after this experience. Of the four members, three are known to be stiill alive and sucessful. Eddy (w/a "y") eventually bought enough cigarettes to own stock in R.J. Reynolds Tobacco Co. T.F. Hippie is happily married and working in theatre, though he still find himself humming the tune to "Sodomize Me" from time to time. Eugiñe B. Muff pi discovered the secret to eternal happiness but as of this writing hasn't told a fucking soul.
Only the enigmatic Ace has completely disappeared. He was last seen in late August 2036 when he was arrested for streaking at the Super Bowl. (Apparently Ace had been emotionally traumatized by the overall reaction of laughter at his tiny penis. An ironic fact considering that it was well known that Ace was the most well endowed member ot the group). Recently there has been talk of a reunion tour, sparking a number of "Lanky Bitch" sighting around the world. But science has concluded that Ace was kidnapped by the same aliens who have Elvis, JFK, and Hitler in captivity.
J.Q. Walrustitty
Jethro Q. Walrustitty
Univeristy of Rock History
Northern Delaware
* The writings above were taken from the book used by the band to keep its lyrics and playlists in. The original was mailed to the Vatican and as far as we know, it's the only book rejected for use in the underground library.
Terrible Lyrics:
Human Wasteland 7 Years AlternateenDeath of a REVangelist Death Cult Blues Prozac Street
Wage Slave Die Di Die Happy Poppy Shit
Lyrics by Justin Helmer (with apologies to Robert Anton Wilson), music by Terrible © 1997
Dreaded neuro army is kicking down the door,
Three million lightyears stranger than it's ever been before.
Smoke that up! Plumb the depths to which you're scared to sink.
Too hypnotized by yourselves to taste your logic's stink.
Reality and relativity become a spice like sage.
Turn the card and hide yourself behind the newest rage.
Security is slipping further into the distance.
The beast is coming closer now to break down your resistance.
CHORUS:
Ulysses hanging on the wall
Point the way all nations fall
Drowning out the other's call
The voice of God in the urban squall
Just when you thought maybe it was safe to practice Zen
The harbingers of knowledge are at your door again.
Demanding you do penance for the heresies you hold
Forcing you to experience the Nth degree of cold.
The Illuminati are hosting a party on forty-second street
The magicians are warming us up for their greatest feat.
Cocaine trucks are makin' deliveries on your neighbor's block,
Softening us up for the message that's carved into the rock.
CHORUS
Absolution is not a game for the small or weak.
Pink slip for the earth's garbage held onto by the meek.
Systems and fads will all eat themselves one day.
You'll be left all alone to deal with your soul's decay.
Dreaded neuro army is kicking down the door,
Three million lightyears stranger than it's ever been before.
Innocence is expensive, as Michael R. would say,
No id, no ego, no superman, no heroes for today.
Justin's comments: Written in the Apocalypse lounge on SCSU's palatial campus, the lyrics of "Trick Top Hat," including the title, come from Robert Anton Wilson's Schroedinger's Cat trilogy. "Michael R" is Mike Renee, a local singer-songwriter who wrote and produced "Guilt is for Free." I've always loved the song because it's such a great story.
lyrics by Justin Helmer & Ed Burke, © 1995-1996
Music by Terrible
Impale me with your falshood
Impale me on my mind
I used to be so human
But I left it all behind
Take everything I've got
And throw it in my face
Take everything I've got
My life is such a waste.
CHORUS:
I am a human wasteland
My eyes the color of rust,
A man of broken promises
And a child of shattered Trust
Destroy me with your physic
Heal me with your lies
Break me with your conscience
We are of one mind.
Have another heartwrench
Cleanse me with the pain
Taste me with your fingers
I'm the one to blame.
CHORUS
This one's on me
I'm so empty
So damned angry
So fucking alone
CHORUS twice, loud and pissed off
Justin's commentary: I have no meaningful memories of writing this song whatsoever. It was largely an exercise for Eddy and I in trying to write lyrics together; we wrote every other line. I take no responsibility for "taste me with your fingers" as I have no idea what it means. I feel that I should mention that the overarching theme of this paricular song is High School Angst...
lyrics by Justin Helmer, music by Terrible ©1996-1997
I looked in the mirror
The mirror cracked
I looked at my body
My body's racked
For 7 years the deck is stacked against me.
I looked out my window
The weather's cold.
I look for my soul but
My soul's been sold
To the man and no one ever told me.
CHORUS:
It's hard to live but I'm afraid to die.
It's easy to love but I'm too scared to try.
The years go on and I'm still here.
Trapped in a prison of my fear.
Looked in my fridge but
All my food is gone.
Looked at the calender,
The days go on
And my soul's on sale at 7/11.
Looked in my wallet
No money there.
Looked to the government
But they don't care.
It seems everything is stacked against me.
CHORUS, Repeat first verse
Justin's commentary: "7 Years" was written in the ticket booth at the SCSU Performing Arts Center. I guess I was just trying to deal with the fact that I didn't have any money, and I was stuck selling tickets to a college production. The music for this song changed late in the life of the band: we played it with a lounge style toward the end of our association.
Lyrics by Justin Helmer, music by Terrible © 1997
Impossible to tell what's really on your mind
You hop aboard the newsest fad, whatever you can find.
To set yourself free from the loneliness inside.
You never know who might see through to where you try to hide.
CHORUS:
All I've got 2 say
Is rent a fucking clue!
All I've got 2 say
Is find the real you.
No style, no fashion, will ever change the way
You feel so all alone at the end of the day.
Strike the pose, be the first to hear the newest band,
Bemoan your life, thy'ell never guess, your angst is all pre-planned.
It's obviousyou stole your life from a CK ad,
Trip yourself trying to be the baddest of the bad.
(bridge):
Confusion...your illusion
Distortion...your contortion
Rejection...your projection
Realization...your destruction!
When the glam is stripped away you're no longer so precise.
Afraid that the you inside simply won't entice.
Free your mind and your ass will follow.
Stay where you are, will find a way for you to wallow.
Alternateen...you're trapped!
Alternateen...you're sapped!
Alternateen...you'll never know
I'll see you at the show.
Justin's comments: I think a lot of this song came from the fact that I spent the majority of my free time at a coffee shop, the Java Joint. Is was always funny because Eddy would introduce the song by saying "This one's called 'Alternateen'...no offense." It's also noteworthy that almost every time we played this song live Eddy split his fingers open on the guitar strings because he played so fast.
lyrics by Justin Helmer, music by Terrible ©1998
Another buyout goes down,
Another legend falls.
Once again they dance like clowns
When that money calls.
Monopolies fuel the media machine
Screaming "We don't own enough!"
Wiping the face of fadio clean
Fuck all that diversity stuff.
CHORUS:
I just can't see why
You feel the need to destroy
All the things keeping music alive
What the fuck happened to REV 105? (repeat line 4X)
Incessantly watching the bottom line,
Leads to bullshit of this kind.
Cock-rock already had its time
Pouring noise into their minds.
There's just not justice in it
It seems a bit too crass.
Once again we all bend over
While Cap-Cities fucks us up the ass.
REPEAT CHORUS
Justin's comments: REV 105, a Punk protest song. This song came about because of the buyout of a local progressive radio station by Cap-Cities/ABC, who already owned two other radio stations in the Minneapolis market. Suffice to say, we weren't very happy.
©1998 Lyrics by Justin Helmer, music by Terrible
Every ten minutes, someone's in my face
Screaming 'bout the end of the world.
FBI's torching some new place,
Laughing over ashes while the flag unfurls.
Prefab Messiah will lead the faithful home.
Cherry-flavored poison, for the flock to drink.
Anything to get from under life's relentless drone,
Brainwashed so completely you never stop to think.
CHORUS:
It's the end...and we're all gonna burn.
It's the end...and I guess we'll never learn.
It's the end...how many have to die
Before we see the lie?
Turn to flash and glam to take away the pain.
Need for something strong gets you through the night.
As charisma sucks you down the drain.
You will lose your will to fight.
The nation point and laughs and stares,
As your death is played on the evening news.
Ideals burning brightly like a flare,
Lucky you, you got the Death Cult Blues.
Justin's comments: Of all of Terrible's songs, this one is the one I'm most proud of and the one that was the most fun for me to perform. It was inspired largely by the Heaven's Gate/Hale-Bopp cult and various other megalomaniacs throughout history. Noteworthy for being the only Terrible song that had a guitar solo...
lyrics by Justin Helmer and Eddy Burke, music by Terrible ©1997
Rows and rows of picture perfect houses, well trimmed lawns.
Whitewashed picket fences, protect you from the world beyond.
Welcome to a world where everything is just fine.
Where Barney is god, and we dont' like your kind.
CHORUS:
Welcome to Prozac Street
Where everything in life is sweet
Where the happy and the docile meet.
With a youth group thatcha just can't beat!
Jesus lived here for a week, couldn't take the heat on Prozac Street.
Said we was too nice.
We don't drink church wine, it fucks with our meds.
Don't ask us no questions, all that thinking hurts our heads.
BRIDGE:
Just like Orwell '84
Big brother's drugs make us smiling whores.
Drugs now do emotion's chores,
Utopia's what we're looking for.
Welcome to Prozac Street.
Where everything in life is sweet.
Where the only sound your ears will meet,
Is pop, pop, fizz, fizz, everything's fine.
(Etc. Ad Cacophonicum)
Justin's comments: "Prozac Street." Well, it's the second and last song to use the "every other line" technique of writing between Eddy and I. The initial impetus was a misheard song title at another band's performance at the Java Joint. I meant absolutely no disrespect toward Jesus...I mean c'mon, the man tipped over a couple of tables in the Temple...even He got mad!!!
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Created: 9/21/2000 Last Update: 1/22/2001
