The Many Faces of Greydon Clark

When the mid-90s were turning into the late-90s four friends met in an Ypsilanti, Michigan basement to express their mutual love of playing pop melodies at double time and maximum volume. They wrote some songs and played some shows. Their friends encouraged them and occasionally a stranger said, “Good set.” But they had jobs, and school, and women, and beer, and other bands to tour with, so the practices happened less often and the shows got sloppy, but they still liked the songs and each other and their friends kept encouraging them.
Late one night they decided it was time to record some songs, so they started practicing and played a few shows, soon they visited Mr. Tim Pak, of Woodshed Studios. They recorded six songs totaling18 minutes and a 22-minute instrumental noise opera about a boy seeing the face of god in his bedroom ceiling. They recorded five of the songs in one take. One was a little tricky and took three takes. The guitars were Gibson’s and the amps were 100-watt tube dinosaurs with 4X12 cabs, all the distortion was produced naturally. The bass amp was 300-watts, transistor, and running at 2 Ohms while powering two 2X15 cabs, the square wave distortion was provided by a mid-70s rack mount effects unit -- known as “The Speaker Destroyer” because of its tendency to set speakers on fire. The drummer played a marching snare and taped two quarters to the beater of his kick drum. He didn’t bring a rack tam to the studio and only hit the floor tam once in the entire session. The band wanted the guitars to sound like jet engines. For the drums and bass an early ‘70s dance hall sound, inspired by The Upsetter, was the goal. The vocals were shouted into a mic hanging in the middle of the studio.
The next day they mixed the songs and took the tape home for their friends. Someone suggested a split 12” with Wallside, their friends and the best band in Detroit for much of the ‘90s. Joel and Aaron in Kalamazoo agreed to press the record. Money was saved, cover art created and more shows were booked. The record was reviewed in various punk ‘zines of the day and was compared to Gang of Four and Heroin (the band); all liked the chaos- none mentioned the melodies. Between the recording of the record and the pressing of the record, something happened, and they couldn’t write new songs. They unceremoniously called it quits before a show in Ypsilanti. All the members wanted keep the band going but they had jobs, and school, and women, and beer, and parties, and new places to live, and other bands to tour with.
All the members of The Shag Van Club are still friends. Some members play in bands in the DPA catalog. Some quit playing music because they heard the dogs of war howling in the drum kit while tripping on ‘shrooms. They now express themselves by eating sand and granite and pray for low-pressure systems in the Gulf of Alaska. They hope you will enjoy these songs; but want you to know they were never intended for a digital environment. At this point in time it is a worthless distinction to make, and only deserves mentioning because of the bands dedication to vinyl, vacuum tubes and magnetic tape. The songs are about youth and freedom, and volume and friendship, and working for an asshole, and staying up late, and having sex on the couch, and having a cherry car, and drugs, and Satan, and saying fuck you to the man, George Bush and his crippled bitch, your job, and responsibilities, and all the other things that led to their demise.
Fuck wax, the MP3 are coming…