The early 80s were all about speed to me. Influences at this time included Randy Rhoads, Tony MacAlpine, Yngwie Malmsteen, Paul Gilbert, Vivian Campbell, and Adrian Vandenberg. All that mattered was that I was able to sweep arpeggios and pick 64th notes! Melody? Taste? Who cares! As long as it was fast! For all but the last song on this page, I played all guitars, bass, and drum machines. Recorded on an old Yamaha 4-track cassette deck.
Aside from trying to play fast, I played in a band called Totalitarian Cinderblöck. We would do things like play a Def Leppard song in a reggae feel. Or play Molly Hatchet, then break into a chorus of a Bee Gees tune. We wrote a rock opera – Viking Gardener – with the major influences being Monty Python, Rush, and Spinal Tap.
Azrael Block
Some jazz friends at Berklee tried getting me to listen to Al Di Meola. Between that and Yngwie’s acoustic shredding, I was inspired to try my own. I forgot why I named it Azrael Block. Must not have been all that meaningful.
Azrael Block
Timber Bashing
I used to read the Guitar Player Spotlight column and send letters to the featured shredders asking for their demo. Many were kind enough to send one (like Paul Gilbert – he sent two 90-minute cassettes, which were awesome!) Another guy who sent me his demo was Greg Vorobiov. There was one song on his demo that had this really cool repeating sliding down note. I liked it so much I wrote a tune around that idea. I was just learning how to alternate pick 3-note-per-string scales (as per Paul Gilbert), so I felt like I was hanging on for dear life playing this. Like I was skiing at light speed trying not to smash myself to bits on a tree. Thus the title Timber Bashing.
Timber Bashing
Air Limbo
This was inspired by the Tony MacAlpine song Agrionia off his Edge of Insanity album.
Air Limbo
Stylus
I met Rich Acocella in Boston while I was Berklee. He was working on an invention of his – a new design of guitar pick called the Stylus pick. He approached me and several other Berklee shredders and asked us to try the pick to see if it improved our technique. I wrote this song and recorded it using that pick. He still sells them. If you’re a shredder, you might find it interesting. http://www.styluspick.com/
Stylus
April Frogs
My first attempt at a legitimate instrumental composition. Recorded at Berklee with friends Powell Randolph on drums and Dan Clemmens on bass. I remember my best friend during those years, John Pecak, was the engineer who had reserved the studio and was hurrying us to finish up and get out because our time was almost up. I recorded all the guitar overdubs in about the last 10 minutes, rushing to get them perfect in one take because the next group of students was waiting outside waiting to get in to the studio.
April Frogs
Viking Gardener
My Berklee band – Totalitarian Cinderblöck. Progressive rock meets Monty Python.
Viking Gardener
written and performed by Totalitarian Cinderblöck
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A long long time ago, in a garden far far away, there lived a man called Pasqual. The Self-Proclaimed Nomadic Spanish Viking Gardener/Fighter Pilot (the most feared in all of Norway).
Now, Pasqual had a garden which he loved very much, but it was in dire need of help. In truth – his garden blew. It was dying. The Nordic Phytologist became sad – and so he cried.
Ah – but that night as he slept, Pasqual had a dream. He dreamt of a Utopian Garden so green it called out to him “Pasqual come.” The next morning saw the Norse Spaniard setting out on his Quest for the Utopian Garden.
Meanwhile, out in the forest, hordes of Nasty Weeds (led by The Evil #12) were lying in ambush for poor Pasqual. They attacked without warning (that’s what “ambush” means) and the Viking Gardener found himself ankle deep in the nastiest of Nasty Weeds. Just when all seemed lost, Pasqual remembered a time in his childhood when he was trained in the ancient Viking art of arc welding – so he took out his trusty butane torch and set all the Nasty Weeds aflame in one fell swoop.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a gila monster wearing a football helmet appeared on a big wheel (the kind with the cool hand brake). He said he was The Keeper – one of the Watchers of the Woods – and thanked Pasqual for ridding the area of the Nasty Weeds. He gave Pasqual a big swirly lollipop engraved with a cryptic message. Before Pasqual could say anything, The Keeper peddled off.
Pasqual thought and thought and discovered that he was to lick the Lollipop-O-Life thrice, and so he did. There was a blinding light and a deafening scream (well – not really deafening – but it was bein’ all loud – oh – and the light was almost blinding, but not quite capable of causing any permanent retinal damage) and the ground shook and she appeared. Princess Gardenia – the most beautiful woman Pasqual had ever laid eyes upon. He and the Garden Princess fell deeply in love and were whisked away to their Utopian Garden on a chariot pulled by a team of flying squirrels with duck feet and snorkels. (In fact, the whole snorkel/diving mask ensemble was all the rage with the squirrels that year – kind of like clogs, bell bottoms, and disco were in the years to come – what with denim being such a scarce commodity and all in those times, and considering all the drownings that previous summer, the squirrels settled for scuba gear; for even with their duck feet, they were no match for the strong currents.)
Pasqual and Princess Gardenia lived an eternity bein’ all blissful in their Utopian Garden.
Viking Gardener – A Blöck Opera
I PASQUAL
Narrator:
Through forest green and violent stream the Viking Gardener shall follow his dream.
Pasqual:
I go to the garden with spade in my hand, I am a gardener I cultivate the land.
The soil’s so dry the sky is too blue, oh what is this poor Viking Gardener to do?
The carrots need sunlight, the squash fertile ground, the parsley some water but none to be found.
There’s nowhere to run there’s nowhere to go, oh why must my garden always have to blow?
Narrator:
And so Pasqual went to sleep…
II DREAMS OF A UTOPIAN GARDEN
Pasqual:
I dream of gardens in the sky, a dew kissed rose, a tear from my lord’s eye.
Gentle rains caress as life unfolds, with every breath this world has touched my soul.
Narrator:
Meanwhile, out in the forest..
The Evil Weeds:
Die. Kill. Rip. Smack. (4x)
Die.
Pasqual:
I feel my life slowly decay, darkened fields with flowers ripped and frayed.
My mother raped vomits forth death’s own, I feel her scream to touch what I’ve been shown.
Narrator:
Meanwhile, back in the forest…
The Evil #12:
Your days are numbered Pasqual. 1, 2, 3, 4.
The Evil Weeds:
Die. Kill. Rip. Smack. (8x)
Die.
III TOMATOES
Pasqual:
Look at my garden, look at my garden, look at my garden, look at my garden.
Tomatoes, tomatoes, what does it matter, they’re all dead.
IV A QUESTING WE WILL GO
Narrator:
And so Pasqual, disgruntled with his land, left. On a quest to seek the Utopian Garden. He walked proudly with hoe in hand and a bag o’ seeds to impregnate the land. He crossed miles of desert and fertile terrain and bathed when he could – which wasn’t too often. For after all, he was a viking. But he kept his heart pure, and that’s the important thing during a quest. He had many wonderfully strange adventures and met many strange and wonderful creatures, including some women. The tiller of soil was soon set upon by armies of the Nasty Weeds, led by The Evil #12. The battle ensued.
V CARNAGE IS FOREST LEIBENBOOT
Pasqual:
Who are you?
The Evil #12:
I want your carrots,…
Pasqual:
No!
The Evil #12:
…and your beans, …
Pasqual:
No!
The Evil #12:
…and your radishes…
Pasqual:
No. You can have the kumquats.
The Evil #12:
Your garden is mine…
Pasqual:
No – not the garden…
The Evil #12:
…for ever, and ever, and ever,…
Narrator:
Suddenly just when all seemed lost, Pasqual pulled out his trusty butane torch and set the nasty weeds aflame in one fell swoop.
VI THE CRYPTIC CHAMELEON
The Keeper:
Hey I’d like to thank you for the deed that you have done. Here – have a lollipop the color of the sun. The taste of life is thrice as sweet with hybrid gardens at one’s feet. But twice the love is from above. You’ll never wither, always love.
Pasqual:
Keeper of the forest green and garden of the sky – no need for thanks. Twas nothing, eh. This lollipop looks mighty good, it borders on a dream. But I cannot think, I cannot see. Am I high? What does this mean?
The Keeper:
I cannot say just what this is, just keep your heart true. But hey – whoa – turn around! What is that thing behind you?
Narrator:
And when he turned The Keeper fled and left Pasqual alone. Concentration, sweat of blood, he must rethink what he’d been told.
The Keeper and Pasqual:
The taste of life is thrice as sweet with hybrid gardens at one’s feet. But twice the love is from above.
Pasqual:
What could he mean? I lick it once. I lick it twice. The lollipop it sings! A blinding light, I cannot see. A violent scream. What does this mean? She appears with deep green eyes. Garden Princess – I am mesmerized!
VII EPILOGUE
Narrator:
Pasqual and Princess Gardenia were whisked away to their Utopian Garden on a chariot pulled by a team of flying squirrels with duck feet and snorkels. (And snorkels.) They lived long and happy lives – you know – being all happy. But deep down Pasqual knew that someday the Nasty Weeds would return.
The Evil #12:
(inaudible murmurings)
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Totalitarian is – uh – was:
Corky Chewning – vocals/bass
Alec Fehl – guitar
Paul Huesman – vocals/drums
Rich Lupescu – keyboards/not vocals
John Pecak – guitar