Chris Banyas
Editor-in-Chief
There is a very special place within the gnarled, overgrown hedge ways of my heart, amidst that allocated for the Wu-Tang Clan, Bob Ross, Julia Childs, Gonzo (and Rizzo) from the Muppets, “ugly” music, “offensive” art, and wood wick candles, set aside specifically for the music of the Dead Kennedys, and more specifically for their original front man, Jello Biafra.
What’s in a name?
According to Dyingscene.com, Jello “Chose his stage name by combining the brand name Jell-O and the name of the short lived country of Biafra, which attempted to secede from Nigeria in 1966. After four years of fighting and horrific starvation in Biafra, Nigeria regained control of the nascent Biafran state. Jello Biafra created his name as an ironic combination of a nutritionally poor mass-produced food product and mass starvation.”
A brief survey of DK album titles includes: “Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables,”
“Plastic Surgery Disasters,” “Frankenchrist” and “Bedtime for Democracy.”
My love affair with the man behind the record label dubbed Alternative Tentacles, began long ago and grew immeasurably over the course of the runtime of “Holiday in Cambodia.”
Please find the uncensored lyrics reprinted below:
“So you been to school for a year or two and you know you’ve seen it all/In daddy’s car thinkin’ you’ll go far back east your type don’t crawl/Play ethnicky jazz to parade your snazzy on your five grand stereo/braggin’ that you know how the niggers feel cold and the slums got so much soul.
It’s time to taste what you most fear/right Guard will not help you here/brace yourself, my dear:
It’s a holiday in Cambodia/It’s tough, kid, but it’s life/It’s a holiday in Cambodia/Don’t forget to pack a wife.
You’re a star-belly sneech you suck like a leach you want everyone to act like you/Kiss ass while you bitch so you can get rich but your boss gets richer off you.
Well you’ll work harder with a gun in your back for a bowl of rice a day/Slave for soldiers till you starve then your head is skewered on a stake.
Now you can go where people are one/Now you can go where they get things done/What you need, my son:
Is a holiday in Cambodia/Where people dress in black/A holiday in Cambodia/Where you’ll kiss ass or crack.
Pol Pot, Pol Pot, Pol Pot, Pol Pot, [etc]
And it’s a holiday in Cambodia/Where you’ll do what you’re told/A holiday in Cambodia/Where the slums got so much soul….Pol Pot.”
I clearly remember the rapturous feeling wash over me as I finally heard a song genuinely express so many of the things I felt about the world but didn’t necessarily know how to articulate.
Beyond this, I do not believe the power of hearing someone express something that affirms your feelings can be understated. It is extremely validating to know that you are not an outlier, monstrously malformed mutant, or the anathema of the general public.
One of my favorite episodes in the story of DK is the time they were “charged criminally with distribution of harmful matter to minors” by the state of California for including a little work of art by German artist H.R. Giger entitled “Work 219: Landscape XX” as an insert to their “Frankenchrist” album.
Without giving too much away, “Work 219: Landscape XX” is also commonly known as “Penis Landscape.”
I’ll leave the rest up to your imagination or the Googling skills you’ve been training all your life.
According to Biafra, “I enjoy getting people angry and getting underneath their skin, especially people who don’t think.”
The highlight of this episode for me occurred on the Oprah Winfrey Show as Jello appeared opposite Tipper Gore, and eloquently presented his case and arguments.
Please find an extract from the interview below, or for full effect, look up the full video on YouTube.
“In my case, I can relate to NWA’s song about the police, because after my record, ‘Frankenchrist’ was blasted by Susan Baker and the PMRC in ‘Variety’, two weeks later, nine police officers, three from LA, six from San Francisco, broke a window by my front door, stormed into my house, tore the place apart, like you’d see KGB people do in a TV movie or something, went through my address book, page by page, comparing names, while I sat there on a chair with a bathrobe on with two cops with their jackets zipped right up to about here, so they might be packing a gun, circling around me like sharks. It was a subtle form of rape, in a way.”
There are too few people in this world like Mr. Biafra, and that number grows fewer every single day.
Jello has also spent a considerable amount of time performing spoken word anywhere and everywhere. The title of this piece is taken from the title of one of these performances.
Another facet of the man that I find astounding is his commitment to truth, and especially his encouragement of people’s pursuit of it.
“Don’t hate the media, become the media, even if it means going head-to-head with people you know at home, at work, at school, in your family, explaining why the world is wrong.”
Not to be complacent with merely performing and speaking out about issues, Biafra also ran for mayor of San Francisco in 1979 under the slogan, “There’s always room for Jello.”
According to Wikipedia, “His platform included unconventional points such as forcing businessmen to wear clown suits within city limits, erecting statues of Dan White (who assassinated Mayor George Moscone and City Supervisor Harvey Milk in 1978) all over town and allowing the parks department to sell eggs and tomatoes with which people could pelt them, hiring out of job workers, due to a tax initiative, to become pan handlers in wealthy neighborhoods (one being where Dianne Feinstein lives), and a citywide ban on cars (although the last point was not considered completely outlandish by many voters at the time, as the city was suffering from serious pollution). Biafra has expressed irritation that these parts of his platform attained such notoriety, preferring instead to be remembered for serious proposals such as legalizing squatting in vacant, tax-delinquent buildings and requiring police officers to keep their jobs by running for election voted by the people of the neighborhoods they patrol.”
I’ll leave you with one more thought from the man which has positively impacted my life in so, so many ways, and continues to do so, before taking you out with another of his songs, which, while written decades ago, is perhaps more relevant than ever, “Kill the Poor.”
Poetry.
“This is my home. Home is where the disease is. As long as I stay in America, I’ll never run out of subjects for songs.”
“Efficiency and progress is ours once more/Now that we have the Neutron bomb/It’s nice and quick and clean and gets things done/Away with excess enemy but no less value to property/no sense in war but perfect sense at home.
The sun beams down on a brand new day/no more welfare tax to pay/Unsightly slums gone up in a flashing light/Jobless millions whisked away/At last we have more room to play/All systems go to kill the poor tonight.
Gonna
Kill kill kill kill Kill the poor/Kill kill kill kill Kill the poor/Kill kill kill kill Kill the poor Tonight
Behold the sparkle of champagne/The crime rate’s gone feel free again/O’ life’s a dream with you, Miss Lily White/Jane Fonda on the screen today/Convinced the liberals it’s okay/So let’s get dressed and dance away the night.
While they:
Kill kill kill kill Kill the poor/Kill kill kill kill Kill the poor/Kill kill kill kill Kill the poor Tonight
Kill kill kill kill Kill the poor/Kill kill kill kill Kill the poor/Kill kill kill kill Kill the poor Tonight
