Of all the fucked up things that have happened to me over the last year, going to see The Nasty On has to occupy 9 of the top 10 spots (and no, I'm not going to elaborate on what #10 is... you wanna know about my fucked up life you can pay the $5.99 monthly membership fee at www.punkass.com., like everybody else ). There was the time that Jason got so drunk (on free beer, sweet Jesus) that he had to sing crouched over on the floor and Matthew smashed his bass after their second song, thus ending their finest set ever; or the time the lead keyboardist (actually the only member... what the fuck were you drinking that night.-Ed.) of the opening band got on stage shitfaced and proceded to yelp like a yeti getting a rim-job throughout half their set; or their first show, where they opened for a pair of renegade extra-terrestrial transexuals fronted by the gilded, chastity cooing reincarnation of Debbie Harry's playboy bunny suit; or just about every time I've got as loaded as I possibly could and dragged myself out to the Brickyard, or some such place, only to have my head split open and scattered to the four winds, and then found my way home without it even occuring to me that I should maybe try to re-assemble the pieces of my poor shattered mind.

But why the fuck should you care about The Nasty On? Why should you have any interest in this gang of frightful degenerates? Well, maybe you're the kind of person who likes their music soft and gutless, with all the impact of a no form, non-fat decaf latte from Starbucks; maybe you're one of those punk rock purists, untainted by imagination, who runs at the very sound of a guitar solo, delivered frenzied and ragged, here, on your feet, for maximum effect; maybe you're one of those people who went out one night, a long time ago, to a rock show intent on trying something new, only to stumble disorientated and lurching after 5 beers, into the alley to puke out your guts like sweet Linda Blair and then swear off alcohol and rock forever for Diet Coke and "nice" music made by cardigan wearers. If you're one of those people then you're right, you shouldn't care about The Nasty On and frankly, they don't care about you. The following link will take you to www.lilithfair.com. where I'm sure you will find much of interest to you. But if you're one of those other people, one who likes to feel the alcohol-laced blood flowing through your veins (lay off the Sterno bud-Ed.), one of those people to whom music is not merely a tasteful accessory to a stylish Ikea entertainment unit and an expensive stereo. In short, one of those people who believes that a high decibel level and a healthy measure of depravity may one day be enough to bring down all the plastic idols of good taste and bad politics into one massive rubble heap from which we can all claw our way out to emerge dazed and bloodshot to take a piss on the scattered fires burning amongst the last ruined remains of modern decency. If you are one of these people, then The Nasty On preach your gospel (Hallelujay! Uuuh... isn't this supposed to be a bio-Ed.).

Oh yeah, I guess this is supposed to be a biograghy of The Nasty On. Uuuh, let me think back now... The Nasty On have a lengthy and distinguished pedigree which dates back to the moment sometime in the lete 90's when inspired amateurism was mired in a losing battle against the twin forces of slick professionalism and mannered lo-fi chicanery. Though there were earlier combos (The Slum Brothers, I am Joe's Lung, Face of Fear) The Nasty On story really begins with a "legendary" group called Mystery Crater. True amateurs, Mystery Crater consisted of 5 members (The Profesional, Jimmy Fuck, Lenny Lyons, Randy Handfuls, and Outpost) only two of which knew how to play their instruments. Fortunately this didn't stop them from practising incessantly and eventually playing a live show that has been refered to by those who were there, as either the greatest live show in the history of underacheivement, or the acme of worthlessness in public performance. Around this time a sister band named Janitor formed to play music that can only be described as skilled in comparison to Mystery Crater. Janitor consisted of the competent members of Mystery Crater (Lenny Lyons, Jimmy Fuck, The Professional) and two mysterious figures known only as Dark Ranch Mink an Mark Epp. Janitor were a crepuscular bunch, playing in secret for exclusive audiences and recording the legendary unreleased "Comes Clean" lp. The scene around Mystery Crater and Janitor was a fertile one and other short lived groups such as Gerls,Gurls,Girls and Harsh Porn also formed, recording sporadically or playing in living rooms and basements. This fecund period was to be short lived however, and suffered a setback when The Professional and Dark Ranch Mink (Jason Grimmer and Kathy Dube) migrated eastward to spend a year drinking in Halifax. During this fallow period Jimmy Fuck and Lenny Lyons (Allen Forrister and Matthew Lyons) formed T.Rash with bassist Thomas Life and drummer Chad Mareels to play shows and hone their chops in front of the listless audiences of Vancouver. With some minor alterations T.Rash would be the band that would evolve into The Nasty On. After a year in Canada's jewel of the Atlantic, Jason and Kathy decided to return to the doldrums! Vancouver Spring '99: cartoon punks and indie rockers, the stage was set for the emergence of The Nasty On. T.Rash had disintegrated not to long before. Thomas had left to pursue his own vision, but Allen, Matthew and Chad were still itching to do some damage. The line up was shifted slightly: Matthew switched to bass and Jason joined on vocals. The first show was perhaps an inauspicious debut (except for those transexuals, hot damn-Ed.). Opening for Satina Saturnina at the Pic on June 10th, playing primarily Mystery Crater songs it was clear that the band had not been together long, but it was also just as clear, to those that were there, that the group on stage was not just another bunch of barely talented hopefuls who seem to pop up and disappear weekly to fill what little void there is in Vancouver's umm... vibrant live scene (or stick around for a fucking ever... can you say Hissy Fit?-Ed.). More shows followed, songs were written and the battle against uselessness continues. Which brings you to where you are now. You're staring at your computer screen wondering if you should believe the hype. Don't believe the hype (look what it did to the MC5-Ed.), don't believe me and for God's sake, don't believe The Nasty On. They don't want your belief anyway, they just want you to get loaded and come see them play sometime.