The Sabians                                                        By Smutstrutter

As Justin Marler, front man of the Sabians peers out into a cluster of cumulous clouds, he wonders if a possible shooting has occurred near his W. Oakland, CA’s humble abode. Sirens race by as police and helicopters swarm. Bunkered away, he searches the screen and his head with words many will read again and again, yet possibly never understand, as the world turns.

“We must die to ourselves, our own ego, our selfishness. We must die to our worldliness , and love of self. Otherwise, that part of us that is potentially a spiritual, genuine person can be deadened our own lust for self gratification. In short, we must die to this world.”
With a pause he ponders aloud some more, “Of  course, this must be understood in context, as a riddle for several monks to live and understand. But I’m sure some of us can get something out of it, as well.”

It’s Thursday morning as I sit at the computer in my bra. Along with the sleeves and collar that were strangling my next and arms, I wondered at times as to why such restraints were invented at all. With nothing pinning Justin Marler back from this claustrophobic world, he leaps into the music industry- whose walls, he believes, will soon fall.

“Mark my words, in the next seven years they will either change the way they do business for the better, or a couple of the major labels will go under resulting in the survivors changing the music business altogether. In the meantime, the indie labels and bands will reap the cream off the top avoiding many of the major labels pitfalls. I know, U2 probably isn’t your favorite band, but what they are doing illustrates my point. They are so fed up with corporate music that they  are releasing their next album independently, or on their own. Of course, this will turn out to be a very wise business move for them, as well. They will be pocketing most of the money after distro and mechanical fees, therefore undermining the mainstream music industry. I couldn’t applaud them more”

With consumerism collectors calling and pounding at the door, I’m hesitant to let the Comcast cable man in, being I’m half naked and have yet to answer the phone at all. “What do you want,” I shout behind the door. “You’re a month behind, I’m sorry mam, but your services must be shut off if your previous amount cannot be paid in full.” At this point I’m scrambling to unravel my shirt back on, then it hit me perhaps a robe might work. “Can you come back tomorrow, you’re making me late for work,” I cracked open the door. “Sure thing, Miss! I can even come back next month, if this amount is collected tomorrow.”

Dedicating his mind, body, and spirit behind a robe, Justin Marler took it upon himself to become a monk by joining a Russian Orthodox Monastery, a place to render deep thought. After seven years of enlightenment, Justin found his way back home and picked up where he left off.

“Chris, the drummer, and myself played in a band called Sleep in the early 90’s. Before that Chris was in Asbestos Death and I was in a punk band called Paxton Quiggly. I doubt we will ever play with any other bands after this. At this time, we have no plans of writing new material for a third album. Our contract with The Music Cartel was for two albums so now we’re shopping around. Then in 2005 we will release a CD box set called  “The Cyrus Cylinder.”

Speaking of shopping, I shuffled back behind the board only to rummage through my bills. Determining if either my car insurance or cable modem should come first. For a second I recalled my innocent childhood. The years in which I galloped through the woods pretending to be Cheetara from The Thundercats cartoon, never once worrying if her light bolt speed or the Thundertank was fully insured. Briefly I imagined how fortunate I once was, even though hadn’t a dime to my soul. My imagination was the most valuable thing I owned.

“If indeed my band mates and I really were cartoon characters from the eighties, I would’ve probably been that skinny guy from Dungeons and Dragons who was always scared. Chris, drums would have been Papa Smurf because of his beard. Patrick, the guitar played would be Inspector Gadget, while Minie from Robotech would be our bass player, Rachael. But, as for books to recommend, there’s one I wouldn’t want anyone going through life without reading, and that is, “Unseen Warfare.’

Mingled within the nine tracks, one hidden, of Sabians’s “Shiver” lies a moving gospel cover, “Broken Circle.” With SKS shots and news casters dubbed in the background this song gives you reason to strip all the barriers down and focus in on life’s more promising responsibility of breathing. Serene vocals surrounded by mounting riffs explode with a riveting rock attracting a very versatile crowd. As for this black leather heavy metal clown I can’t see one good heavy reason to get off my deadbeat ass and kick the coffee table in. It‘s a good thing the cable man came just after listening to Sabians and smoking one hellacious joint. I’m saving the roach and secret track when next dueling with rent.