To receive a copy of the latest OXBOW newsletter, send an e-mail to: ox_bow@hotmail.com

Newsletter No. 27: DEATH OR SERIOUS INJURY CAN OCCUR. "Pairs of criminals would agree in advance to escape along with a third man ('the meat') who was destined to become the sustenance for the other two on their journey." - Anne Applebaum "There's a taste in my mouth, as desperation takes hold." - Ian Curtis Okay. So if you've been reading this newsletter at all for like any time at all for almost any reason at all you know that we were just in Europe. If you're prone to thinking expansively you also know this means we just got back. And if you know anything at all you know how goddamn damning it can be. We're not talking about the jet lag. We're not even talking about the relief that blossoms under your skin after an ass-kicking six-week tour, the kind that ends leaving you loving all the ridiculous minutiae of the life left behind. We're talking about the week long "jaunt." The band equivalent of a pleasure cruise. And we're talking about the totally damaging James Bond Syndrome (JBS) wherein an otherwise normal human has their real life upended in the face of an almost overwhelming fantasy so that what they just enjoyed... international travel, fine wine, food, an audience of willing participants every night and all the responsibilities of a tree sloth... becomes their preferred tier and their REAL life... the one that involves bills, car repairs, parking tickets and grocery stores... is just UNbelieveable. And almost UNacceptable. Or to quote Jefferson Wilson: "When you start to have REAL problems, let us know. We'll be glad to listen." So the fuck what? So this is not a problem in Ethiopia. So this is not even a problem in San Francisco. So this would not be a problem for the next 10 people you meet, so the fuck what? Don't you understand that we are sensitive fucking artist types who need all of the high and easy living that we can scrounge out of the world? Can't you see that this is the style to which we have grown greatly accustomed? Will you not grant us this one small measure of a sympathetic gesture for the indignities inherent in strangling people for a living when, for example, you might really fashion yourself a belle artiste in the fine tradition of the bed-ridden Proust or Lord Byron? No? Fuck it. We don't blame you. Thieves always look unattractive when they're asking you to excuse their thievery and so we won't even ask. Let's just say that we are having RE-ENTRY difficulties and get on with the newsletter, which will/might be shorter this month, to make room for the boulder-testicled tour diary and all. Jesus. Now excuse us while we kiss random strangers on both cheeks, bid them ciao and perform a whole raft of other annoyingly affected Italianisms that mark more clearly than you could know our present affliction. BUT FIRST: STATEMENTS THAT, IF MADE BY EUGENE, WILL ALWAYS ELICIT A CHUCKLE FROM THOSE WHO PROFESS TO KNOW HIM WELL 1) Sure! I'll help!! 2) What?!? Are you going to believe ME or THEM?!?! 3) Does your girlfriend need a ride home?

IS HENRY ROLLINS BLACK? Well we offered you $200 for our Henry Rollins Versus Eugene Robinson contest (Newsletter No. 26) and to your everlasting credit we only got TWO responses, which means that you all concur that this is as beat of a comparison as any writer worth their salt would have/should have known before they made it. Especially Brad Kava from the San Jose Mercury News who made the original comparison. So there are, much like in life, absolutely no winners here... HOWEVER, MELODY JOHNSON, who we subsequently alienated by asking in a really clumsy, dog-headed stab at seduction if we "could look at your crotch," had something funny to say as did the well-traveled Allan MacDonell, former Hustler executive editor and the first person to ever give OXBOW any sort of national coverage. Complete with our phone number. Which got us weeks of calls from a RYAN in NORTH CAROLINA who wanted us to "fuck him with our BIG COCKS." But I digress. Anyways, it should also be noted, prior to us sharing this with you, that we actually LIKE ol' Henry and reprint these following two responses not out of deprecation but out of morbid fascination. We mean that dude has so much moral rectitude (and we have so little) and so much a sense of order about the universe that we suspect it would be great to live in his world where men keep their word and you expect them to, where women are treated with much deserved respect and you believe they should be and where everyone was free to aim their arrows at the sun. I mean much better to live here than the OXBOW world where moral laxity rules, everybody lies, nobody deserves nothing and Eugene will fuck you quicker than you can say "Hello, my name is..." Well no it's not but we figured we'd say it anyway. ROLLINS V. ROBINSON: A STUDY IN CONTRASTS "I described OXBOW's SXSW show as 'who Henry Rollins wants to be when he grows up'". - MELODY JOHNSON "Glad to read that you are still having your fun, but at such a great cost. Being compared to Henry Rollins cannot profit anybody." - ALLAN MACDONELL

IF STEVE ALBINI SAYS IT IS SO THEN IT MUST BE SO Steve Albini adds: "After the dissolution of Whipping Boy, Eugene was (and is) the vocalist for the outstanding band Oxbow, and his performances bring new levels of both menace and compound absurdity to the stage. He is equally likely to be dressed as a businessman (which he is, to an extent), or buck naked. The last Oxbow show I saw (at the Beyond the Pale festival organized by Neurosis in 2001), he began the set with his ears taped shut with black gaffer tape, carrying a briefcase and wearing a suit. By the end of the show, he was a mass of sweat and tattoos in jockey shorts. I'm sure he has come to regret his choice of a "La Vida Loca" tattoo. Eugene has worked in the computer field (for Adobe) and as a writer and editor for both wrestling/extreme fighting/body building magazines and style-and-fashion magazines. He appeared as a thug in the Bill Cosby film "Leonard Part 6" and occasionally appears in rap videos as a posse member. [Updated 3/31/03]" http://www.roctober.com/roctober/blackpunk3.html HISTORY LESSON PART TWO "In 1989, OXBOW was born on a mattress in a garage piled high with suicide, insanity, bad love and worse vibes. In attendance were its early mid-wives, Eugene Robinson and Niko Wenner. Its intent and purpose was to bequeath to future generations a musical note/item/entity/curiousity explaining how it all had come to be so fucking bad. And it had. And it did." GRAND OPENING Welcome to Eugene's Strangletorium! Come on in for a strangling and a free ass-kicking to boot (Limit to ONE per customer)! http://www.eros-guide.com/files/sleep1.htm THE INEVITABILITY OF INEVITABILITY Well after a scant three months and a promising beginning of claims to "get you guys the BIG shows... the BIG money..." the relationship between OXBOW and their erstwhile manager Mark Weiss has predictably disintegrated in a swelter of name-calling, finger-pointing and total dysfunction destroying not only a business relationship but personal relationships that have spanned a decade. Ah, it's good to be OXBOW. WANTED: ONE MANAGER If you're extremely thick-skinned, hard-working and impervious to the slings and arrows of outrageous fortunes and jibes about your mother's questionable virtue, we're looking for YOU. Job tasks include getting OXBOW the BIG shows and the BIG money, making repeated calls to booking agents to ask "what the fuck is the matter with you? Why haven't you booked OXBOW into any BIG shows for any BIG money yet?", and sending out packages and making calls to confirm in no uncertain way that OXBOW is genius. Assholes preferred. Women desired. Fighters welcome. Please call 650-714-4891. Lawsuit: Singer Too Stoned To Rock CHICAGO, 1:52 p.m. CDT April 22, 2003 - Four fans of the rock Group Creed filed a suit Monday demanding their money back for a Dec.29 concert at the Allstate Arena in Rosemont at which, they claim, the band's singer was too drug-addled to remember his own songs. http://www.msnbc.com/local/WMAQ/A1586576.asp?0bl=-0

WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED? APRIL 19, SHADY BRADY'S, ROSEVILLE/SACRAMENTO with Compound, Condition, OXBOW and Uberkunst Well, well, well. While Niko and Eugene stumble around in mumbling post-tour sleeping sickness-itis this show fast approached and it dawned on us that we were woefully under-prepared for it. We managed to practice once for it during which we spent half of the time watching Niko stare at the innards of his amp, scratch his face, and curse quietly under his breath. So we waited... for a meteor, an act of god, an arrest warrant... but so far nothing and so it seemed that we would have to play like it or not. BUT FIRST... Niko and Eugene run over to Twin Peaks to take pictures for the Mission Creek Music Festival. Which seemed like a good idea on paper since they are so fucking handsome. "Well, Dan and Greg sagely decided against attending as they had real important other things to do like, uh, re-primering the jeep. But driving up there we almost burn up the van AND we notice that two of the people in the photo are wearing full body costumes. One seemingly rabbit-like in appearance. The other vaguely death rockian. It is about this time that we start to think, standing in the bright sun and blinking against the cool breeze that perhaps being here was an ill-advised maneuver that we have only our egoism to blame for." The solution? To wear the same facial expression in 112 photos. Genius. BUT BACK TO SACTO... so coming from the photo shoot Niko takes Eugene to a Taqueria in the Mission named Cancun something or other where Eugene contracts a still lingering case of gut rot. The kind of food poisoning that has you wishing that death, death, death would come quickly, quietly and soon, soon, soon. Add to this the post-tour dislocation and as Eugene says "all of your guns start whispering the same thing. I mean they usually all say different things. Things like: "that Brinks driver... no WAY he makes minimum wage and wants to die for all of that cash"; "just SHOW them the gun... then they'll move their car"; or "a gun AND knife really do make you more handsome". But they were all saying the same thing today: "kiss me, motherfucker." So we pick up the intrepid Fozzy who says "Hey. What's this insinuation of gayness imparted to me in the last newsletter?!?! What the fuck is that about?!?" And he starts making the universal "I'm going to hit you" sign by pounding his open palm with his fist. "WHAT? YOU'RE NOT GAY?" "NO!" "COULD HAVE FOOLED ME." Typically here a nice, masculine NON-homoerotic wrestling match would have ensued but we were sitting in ANOTHER Mexican restaurant trying with all of our might to have lightening strike twice. And then when we wander back to the club on legs that wobble much worse for the wear and the 2 hour drive, we curiously note the presence of what appears to be MANY men dressed as women. Pre-op trannies. Chicks with dicks. Dudes with tits. A curiousity. Like we've stumbled into some kind of transgendered Stepford Village. We also note that the club actually has sort of a crowd. The club owner says "yeah. People were excited you were playing." And then a man named Jetfuck from the band Uberkunst says "Man. We're really excited to get to play with you guys!!!" And we all think the same thing: "you say now." But the band Compound plays and they play workman-like MTV metal. It could have been worse. It could have been nu-metal. Or rap-metal. Or... well you get the idea. Condition (www.conditionsucks.com), our adopted brethren, and men who will pimp out every last woman in Sacto to satisfy our disgusting cravings play a set that absolutely crushes. Very cool. We will have them play with us again if for no other reason than to have their singer say to Eugene "I got herpes so, uh, watch out for the mic tonight" like he did tonight. Eugene's response? "Herpes?! Is that ALL you have? I'm surprised." OXBOW plays and Eugene actually manages to not shit himself. Men, drunken men, start wrestling on the floor in front of the stage but the smell is not the metallic tang of real violence but of good ol' natured fun and so OXBOW nods consent and the show pitches and bucks until people can't take it and start to escape and just as quickly as it began it ended. Comments of note: 1) "I'M IN A BAND TOO AND I DON'T THINK TAKING OFF YOUR CLOTHES MAKES THE MUSIC BETTER." - SPOKEN BY THE EX-STRIPPER/HOOKER (VERIFIED) WHO SAT TWO FEET FROM THE STAGE THE ENTIRE SHOW. Greg, on hearing this screams, "Yes it fucking would!" 2) After OXBOW played and Uberkunst prepared to take the same stage: "I can't imagine that they would be better than the last band." 3) and finally the writer from the Sacto weekly, "I saw you guys in The Wire and I also remember your old band and I want to buy a t-shirt and want you to come back to Sacramento!!!" "Well I like Sacramento. I mean I always have had a good time here." "Doing what?!?! Name ONE thing!" "Well I could name 20 and they all begin and end with an orgasm." BUT IN THE SPIRIT OF BEING TOTALLY COMPLETE WE MUST GIVE DUE TO UBERKUNST, the headliner. They played, sang songs about evil dwarves, and we, facing a 2 hour drive got paid and took off after seeing them play half of their set. We expect that if they did things right that by show end everyone on the stage and in the club was dead. APRIL 27, HEMLOCKwith SUBARACHNOID SPACE Never been to the Hemlock. Never before. Never spent anytime in San Francisco's Polk Gulch, which if you think about it for a bit, sounds like the initial stirrings of a cock joke. OXBOW was just making good on their promise to never say NO: to a fight, a show, or a fucking. And so it was that in the pour of a San Francisco black night rain that we pulled up to the Hemlock, bid our hosts hello and set about doing what we do best: try to figure out in a very public fashion why we're not dead yet. Subarachnoid Space is playing first and our journey to a show with them has spanned what feels like a decade. We like them and they have the same air/feel/vibe that we do about what they do, which is: a quizzical and lurking sense of their own ridiculousness as it abuts the very real satisfaction that would come from more than just CONTEMPLATING your suicide. They play, it's cool and we start to get ready, which amounts to loading the equipment on stage, pissing in cups back stage, and playing that version of Russian Roulette that's particular to men who just throw all of their pills into one bottle and forget which was what. We play and it's good even with Greg's beating his bass drum into the hereafter and Eugene even notes about OXBOW's San Francisco shows, "San Francisco audiences think that because they're our HOME audience that they won't get hurt. Hahahahaha... have I got something planned for them? You bet I fucking do. And it ends with ING." "EVERY WOMAN ADORES A FASCIST THE BOOT IN THE FACE THE BRUTE BRUTE HEART OF A BRUTE" - SYLVIA PLATH

SHOW ME YOURS MAY 20, BOTTOM OF THE HILL, San Francisco with Porch and Caesura. MAY 29, The Eagle: Mission Creek Music Festival: San Francisco JUNE 1ST, ATA, 8PM: Debut of the Christian Anthony OXBOW movie MUSIC FOR ADULTS. http://www.theoxbow.com/musicforadults/ "Like those famed tornado chasers, filmmaker Christian Anthony pursued art rock heavies OXBOW through 5 countries, 2 fistfights and a treasure trove of shows to come back with a document that is all at once profane, dangerous, funny, suicide and rage-inducing, and finally the most succinct take on artistic obscurity that has graced a screen for awhile. Like the anti-Pennebaker, Anthony scores with a film that no one will care about, about a band no one cares about, for an experience that everyone will care about." jucifer/oxbow dates JUNE 19, san jose/tba (tentative) JUNE 20, oakland/sf JUNE 21, oakland/sf JUNE 22, san jose/tba (tentative) HOT FUN IN THE SUMMERTIME fri 04. Jul France/paris/LA GUINGETTE PIRATE sat 05. Jul France/limoges: FESTIVAL sun 06. Jul France/bordeaux/Lyon mon 07. Jul France/grenoble tue 08. Jul Switzerland/geneve wed 09. Jul Germany/nurnberg thu 10. Jul Netherlands/Amsterdam/PARADISO fri 11. Jul Netherlands/rotterdam sat 12. Jul Belgium/dour: FESTIVAL sun 13. Jul Great Britain/london mon 14. Jul Great Britain/birmingham tue 15. Jul Great Britain/cardiff wed 16. Jul Great Britain/belfast thu 17. Jul Ireland/dublin fri 18. Jul Ireland/cork sat 19. Jul Great Britain/Bristol/ASHTON COURT sun 20. Jul Great Britain/London/THE UNDERWORLD

THE SCROTUM I FIGHT, YOU FIGHT, WE ALL FIGHT FOR ULTRABRITE! "I read ur article in grappling magazine about frank shamrock! I really respect you for ur courage and i must say I'm already a big fan of yours! I was wondering if it's not too much to ask if u could send me an autographed picture of you! It would mean the world to me! Best wishes Steve U. Editor's note: If this guy is not a cop, we'd be very, very, very surprised. TO DISTRACTION, BABY, TO DISTRACTION "Gira watched the entire show [of the mighty, mighty band called ROPE] in his big cowboy hat and liked us a lot. I said hello to him from you and his response was "ahh, that guy, he's a driven man"..." - Robert Iwanik Editor's note: And to finish Gira's quote we must go to Rodney Dangerfield, "...to what I have NO idea." A MAN CALLED CHRIST "No, I knew (and have known) about Oxbow for many years. I have been a fan from way back. I think I have nearly all of the records/cds that you have put out. I think that what you do is pretty amazing. It's very compelling, emotionally draining, makes me feel creepy-crawly and warm all at the same time. Not too many bands/artists that can do that, you know. - wm christman JIM O'ROURKE'S BEEN DRINKING AGAIN In response to our ex-manager's request for OXBOW involvement: "hi, sorry for the delay in getting in touch with you, i've been away for a while... got the messages, thanks for thinking of me, and to the band for thinking of me.. much obliged! however, i'm not recording bands anymore, i stopped about 2 years back and don't have any plans on getting into it again, i totally burned out on it. i still help out wilco a bit, but that's more like a "auxiliary member" thing, but otherwise i keep away from the mics as much as possible these days... i really do appreciate it though, seriously, i'm glad someone noticed the engineering job on those records i did... i really do... thanks again, and thanks to everyone in the band... best, jim o' OUR REPLY: Jim, can't says that we blame you at all. In fact when I begin contemplating a return to the studio I just get... well suffice it to say that if I could establish a causal connection between how I feel about going back into the studio and drinking to excess, whoring around and waking up wearing someone else's shoes... well suffice it to say, I would. I mean if I could. cheers, Eugene AFTER AWHILE IT'S ALL JUST COCKS AND CUNTS "Hey, it's the european runaway... anyfuck, just dropping yu a line, seeing how things are going. I'm back in Berlin, livin' the life, makin' the music, shoving that flame-thrower up the ol' arse again (heheh). Funny thing happened today. A friend was wearing a tshirt, that said 'OXBOW' on it, and I kept thinkin' to myself, 'hmm.... why does that sound familiar?' Then he told me that the band played in Berlin last year, and there was some crazed guy who was the singer... blah blah.. finally came to the realization he was talking about yu. Hehe. I didn't know yu end yer shows with only yer tighty whiteys on. Cute. I haven't shot any porn since last May. No real interest. Had some opportunities last fall, when I was back in the states, yet it all was so boring for me. Same thing, cum shot on the face, tits, ass, 'oh, boy, so good, uh, yer such a hunk,' yawn. blah blah. I just need more excitement than what LA porn is willing to offer. So, what kind of shit ya got yerself into nowadays?" - S.F. OUR REPLY: Once we called up Henry Rollins and we asked him at conversation start "what have you been doing lately?" and he answered by saying "fucking and killing." In the spirit of Henry we'd like it known that in answer to the above question the reply is: not a goddamned thing. BEGGING TO BE TORN OFF "Yeah we went to see Oxbow last time they were here... I thought Eugene was gonna rip his dick off and eat it. Frightening man! Loved it all though! Am looking forward to it again very much! Especially to hearing Niko play guitar. That guy is awesome, and his sound is unbelievable. You got me wanting to listen to Let Me Be a Woman now!" - www.artofburningwater.co.uk LOCAL PARISH PRIEST OXBOW NAMED IN SUIT "I showed my photo agency bird my Oxbow pics and she was like 'Oh my god he looks like the devil and you can see his cock. I'm not letting you go on tour with them ever!'" - E.P.

WHAT THE FUCK ARE THEY YELLING? MORE WORD ON THE LARGE SAC'D AND EIGHTH WONDER OF THE FUCKING MODERN WORLD: OXBOW!!! Wednesday, March 12 Oxbow at Privilege, 11:00 p.m. Eugene Robinson's got balls--and he's not afraid to show them to you. Wearing nothing but a pair of grayish tighty-whities, the California boxer-cum-Oxbow frontman looms over a packed crowd of emaciated punks whose fresh black hair dye runs down their sweaty necks. With fists clenched, he looks like he's ready to shatter the jaw of anyone brave enough to throw the first punch. The punks are smart enough to keep their hands in their pockets. Robinson is smart enough to shove his hands down his pants, making the punks go wild. He pulls up his goods, hanging brain in full view of everyone. Cough-syrup-fueled guitars swirl in dizzy fury, the Birthday Party basslines rattle Tracy Pew's bones, and then Robinson opens his mouth and lets out a mournful yowl that could break your heart and your eardrums at once. Best moment of the night: When the squall slows to silence and the crowd pours out of the bar, a stark-naked Robinson dresses himself in the middle of the stage. The heavyweight titan suddenly looks vulnerable and small. You can still see the elastic marks from his underwear circling his middle. (MAERZ) http://www.citypages.com/databank/24/1164/article11144.asp OXBOW? WE FUCKING HATE THEM! OLD HAT! SEE NOW HE'S FUCKING CHOKING ME! WHAT OLD HAT! BOOOORIIIINNNG. NOW HE'S RAPING MY ASS. BEEN THERE, DONE THAT. JESUS. WHAT WON'T THESE GUYS DO TO IMPRESS ME?!?! On the strength of a fellow staffer's endorsement, we head over to Privilege for Oxbow's 11:00 p.m. performance. Privilege is awful -- it's humid, it reeks of incense and it's crowded with people who've had too much to drink. By the time Eugene Robinson and his cohorts take the stage, we're in steambath territory. Oxbow and Robinson's usual schizophrenic-Jimi-Hendrix-fronting-the-Melvins-covering-Black-Sabbath shtick is particularly enjoyed by a drunk, swaying, chinless grinning fuckhead directly in front of us, who paws madly at his chubby, bacon-scented girlfriend and stumbles into people with reckless abandon. We recognize a couple of songs from An Evil Heat, and what sounds like a snatch of "John the Revelator". Robinson, as always, starts shedding clothing early on; by the middle of the set he's down to his briefs, and his free hand rarely strays from his crotch. We notice a number of women who seem like they'd be more at home at a country show; they're staring at Robinson, who has something like -5 percent body fat, and they seem to be slavering. As Oxbow call it a night and get ready for a thirty-hour drive home, several of us decide to turn in early. http://www.splendidezine.com/features/sxsw2003/wednesday.html Oxbow - An Evil Heat - CD (Neurot Records) www.neurotrecordings.com Noise, noise, noise!!! I cannot take the noise. A conglomeration of off-key guitar and bass, along with rhythmic mumblings and drumbeats. It will drive your parents crazy... and maybe even you. {Grog} http://www.thechickenfishspeaks.com/2002o.htm Oxbow An Evil Heat (Neurot Recordings) By: Alex Steininger Balls-to-the-wall noise-rock, the heavy, dissonant chaos of Oxbow isn't over powering, in your face, or metal-esque in sound. However, in style, its metal references, brutal appeal, and anger come alive, all the while brewing a cornucopia primal, primitive sounds that will rip and cut right through you. This is An Evil Heat, the sound of passion and crime coming together with an unpredictable result. I'll give it a B+. http://www.inmusicwetrust.com/articles/50k12.html HELP HIM, HELP HIM! WHO? THE SWISS BOMBARDIER! My name is manuel liebeskind, i am currently in the midst of the planning for an event that will take place early september at the academy of fine arts in berlin (www.adk.de) and in cooperation with their studio for electro acoustic music. together with michael wertmueller and by invitation of the academy of fine arts, we will write and perform a composition, yet called 'metal martyr', that's probably listed under 'new music/contemporary' rather than anything else. michael is a great composer and genius drummer, known also from bands like alboth, 16-17 and innumerable performances with people like peter broetzmann and william parker. our third contributing musician will be acoustic guitar wizard olaf rupp. we plan on performing the piece also in america and are currently checking contacts in LA (CalArts), san diego and victoriaville/canada (victoriaville festival) and would like to ask you if you can imagine a performance at an art space in your area. Our plan is to play america in early 2004. My US agent Eugene Robinson will send you as an attachment the detailed info on our project. In order to make it possible we will apply at swiss culture foundation 'pro helvetia' for support and most importantly would need a formal but NOT compulsory invitation letter on behalf of this institution. We're looking forward to getting your feedback - with best regards, manuel NEXT ISSUE: WE ARE SO TIRED FROM FUCKING YOU SO HARD AND SO NOW WE MUST SLEEP. [ Newsletter ]