When Brian Cameron and I got together with a few friends at his tiny
uptown apartment in May of '92 and played a borrowed guitar blah
blah, I never thought that in three years we'd be part of the
incredibly profound cutting-edge counter-cultural vanguard-type
phenomenon we are today. Look at us! We've got a WEB PAGE, a LOGO
-- why there's even talk of t-shirts and stuff. Pretty soon,
everybody who's anybody will have their pick of the growing range
of Sheep Fiends(tm) Accessories. Own all of our tapes! Wear all
of t-shirts! Hang up disturbing pictures of Dan Foss on your
wall!
Before the great cultural movement we are destined to be and
get our faces on the covers of major rock mags and start doing
dispensable razor commercials, I'd like at this time to offer my
humble advice on the other possible directions this thing might
head toward, in the hope that everybody out there in
Internet-land (as well as hopeless computer illiterates like
myself) won't misunderstand what this Sheep Fiends thing is all
about. A simple story might illustrate my point.
I was recently at this party, a typical social beer and
marijuana affair and I began feeling that peculiar sense of
loneliness and isolation only possible in large crowds of people.
Everyone at the party, or nearly everyone, seemed caught up in
making an impression, name-dropping "friends" of theirs
as if to insinuate themselves into this or that clique and the
whole scene began to remind me of why I never was in parties in
high school. The friendly hugs and salutations conveyed no
genuine welcome; the conversations had nothing to do with actual
communication.
Then somebody did something wonderful; somebody went off in
the corner and started playing a drum. I was instantly drawn to
that corner as were a few others and within minutes a whole room
was drawn together in song. The improvised patterns which
reappeared and then dissolved into the general fuzzy backbeat.
Many people played drums, a few guitars and harmonicas and at
least one person played a toy accordian. Still others made
instruments of beer cans and ink pens and various pieces of
plastic which they discovered made cool noises. The song lasted a
while, twenty minutes at least and it involved everyone from
skilled musicians to people who had never picked up an instrument
before. Yet everyone felt involved equally; everyone's
contribution mattered.
After this blissful moment, the party began to return to where
it was before. But while it lasted, all the barriers between
people had fallen, the communication was genuine and fun. All the
pretentiousness, cliqueness, false friendliness -- all these
things dissolved as easily as it was to pick up the drum and play.
This, more than anything else, is what I see as important and
wonderful about the sheep fiends experience (my lack of capitals
is intentional). If there is any "philosophy" about it,
it is simply this: anyone can participate, anyone can feel
welcome to share and contribute without fear of playing a
"wrong" note and the more the merrier. The
"music" created is not the goal nor the product of the
experience, but a by-product which might sound good or bad or
mediocre and may be played back or forgotten about according to
whom. The important thing is not the music but the experience of
making it.
This is equally important to remember now, when various people
want to fashion the Sheep Fiend thing into some kind of
"band" to be adored and enjoyed by "fans" and
"audience members." etc. etc. People have been playing
in bands for the enjoyment of spectators for thousands of years,
and they will continue to do so. We don't need to duplicate nor
replace this pattern. We're into communication, not music and
our music has the same relation to scripted music as spontaneous
beat poetry has to literature -- it's not the same, its not
better or worse, it's just different. The Sheep Fiends ethic is
one which eliminates the division between participants and
spectators, so that everyone involved simultaneously fills both
roles. Ideally, a time will come when people will gather in
groups of tens or hundreds or thousands or more to play together
in one glorious song. Anyone who has been to a Dead show can
testify how beautiful an experience it is to sit among twenty
thousand like-minded people and enjoy the same song. How much
better it could be if, in stead of a few guys on stage playing to
the multitudes, the multitudes themselves played music for
themselves. Having participated in rooms full of twenty such
musicians, I can only imagine the rush of twenty-thousand.
So, my advice to anyone reading this would be - Sure! Buy our
tapes if you like, wear a print of me on your shirt if you
choose. But don't forget to make your own music at home with your
own friends, neighbors, relatives, complete strangers.
Eventually, Ishialla, we'll all get together somewhere and have a
really great jam. Thanx for readin'.