ROX-TV dips into the vault for a little reflection on some long forgotten releases. It’s time to relax and rewind.
Welcome back to the ROX-TV website. Every now and again I slip back into the old Delorean with Doc Brown and revisit the past. Sometimes I get so busy in life that I forgot about the years and miles that I’ve put in. Other times I get so bored that I turn around just to see where I’ve been and what kind of wreckage the past has to offer. This isn’t an everyday thing, but maybe once a month or so, I put on my long view glasses in reverse.
If you’re familiar with some of my writings than it will be no surprise that music is perhaps the greatest thing in my world outside of my family. My house is littered with trap doors to the past and perhaps there is no better example of that than my “collection” of music related items. I have tapes, cds, flyers, posters, ticket stubs, vhs cassettes, clothing, and on and on it goes.
Musuem quality? Probably not, but I do have some pretty nice feathers in the cap. Some shit is rare and other things just bring me joy. One of the coolest things about the collection in general is that they are all pieces of an odd-looking time machine that can take me back to the moment of acquisition. The items allow me to remember not only the significance of that particular thing, but also lets me find myself in those years long past.
My memory seems to have a unique ability to record things picture perfect and store them somewhere in the back of my head, despite years of being an alcoholic and a dabbler in the magic substances. The system isn’t perfect though because it never helped me in the field of academic studies, if so, I could have probably worked for NASA. For some reason my mind only held onto things that I enjoyed, never things that I might need later in life to gain well paid employment. What do I say to that? Fuck it, life gives you what you get and it’s up to you to make it work for you.
I could never do complex math and science really turned me off too. It might as well have been a foreign language, because no matter how much I stared at that shit, it never seemed to make any sense. But the silver lining was that somehow, I was able to remember and keep track of lyrics, releases, vivid experiences, all relating to my first love…Music. Am I saying that I’m some kind of expert in the matter? No, I wouldn’t claim any special status or declare I’m an end all be all kind of person. I just remember the times and music helps me do that, while bringing me comfort.
Coming from the Murder Mitten and getting it together in the early to mid 1990’s, my collection is a snapshot of the things happening all around the State of Michigan. I know…you’ve heard me say this all before, but I figured I’d put it out there for the first-time readers or people who may not be following along every month. So anyway, on those days when I’m at a loss for the “now” time, I sometimes take a stroll down the creaky and dilapidated tunnel. Back to a simpler time in my life (maybe) when music was something that gave me a reason to exist.
So that’s why I brought you here today, to dip into the old vault and look for memories and chase ghosts. I plan on talking about whatever catches my eye, filling you in on what the item is and why it has been with me for so long. So, with that much out of the way, I guess we can slip away now…well…are you coming or not? (Author’s Note: There is no order or specific route for this journey, nothing appearing here is meant to do much more than what I already described. There is no first place, last pick, or any other structure. I’m merely reaching into the magician’s hat and pulling out the rabbit)
Item: Cykosis and the Cykodelichell Band featuring I.C.P.
“Blood Stains Cykodelichell Mix” Cassette Single
Released: 1995 on Duce Duce Records
Format: Cassette only
Acquired: Wyatt Earp Records in Flint Michigan 1995
Back in 1995 I was a fifteen-year-old Juggalo from the 810. I had been into the sounds of the Wicked Clowns for a couple of years and celebrated anything they touched or were associated with. If they would have come to Flint to break a Faygo bottle, I would have stood around, staring at the glass and probably would have picked up a few shards for the collection. That’s who I was at the time. School days were spent representing the movement and I did my best with my Krylon and Sharpie around town. Every morning before class, I would discuss the finer points of ICP songs with my best friend Wayne or listen to him talk about the shows. He was a few years older than me, had a license, and had been to some of the earliest shows back in the day. This was my life. What track was the dopest? What did the newsletter say about upcoming releases and events? Did you see the new gear at Wyatt Earps? And on and on it went. Some could say it was a religion and they may have been right. We lived and breathed the shit, and I have no regrets about that. When you’re young, it’s what you’re supposed to do. Figure out who you are, what you like, and establish some sense of identity. Well, you already know which way I went with it.
I would jump in the car with Wayne-O and we would smoke Black and Milds, bump jams, and head to either the Genesee Valley Mall or my favorite house of worship, Wyatt Earp Records. The place was on the west end, just past Linden Road on Corunna (M21). If you blinked, you would probably drive right bye and never know you missed it. The inside of the store was simple but effective. Basically, a large room with glass counters which wrapped around the small enclosure, one rack (Like K-Mart had) of shirts, and a wooden stack in the middle which contained the Vinyl Records. The walls were lined with narrowly built shelves which also held CDs. The best shit was in the glass cases, along with some very early merch type stuff from Insane Clown Posse and other local groups (behind the counter near the register). Doug ran the place and a grumpy stoner dude named Al was second in command.
Doug would greet you with a large smile and a very particular laugh, while Al was usually on the other side of the room, with red glassy eyes, and less patience. They were both good guys though and were absolutely Priests in the Temple of Music. Their collective knowledge was mind blowing and if I ever ran this fucked up country, I would have made them national treasures, and declared the shop an historical site. The part these two played in the lives of music fans in the general Flint area can probably never be quantified. The music they provided the local kids fueled more lives than your local gas station. (Author’s Note: Sometimes you meet people in life and don’t fully understand what they have to offer or how big of a role they really played, until years later when you have time to reflect. This shop meant so much to me that I don’t think we have enough time to really explain it, so I will move on. But before I do, I must proclaim my respect, love, and admiration for the shop and those two guys who ran it for so many years. When we lost that store, the Underground and Music World in the Midwest lost one of the best)
So anyways, we roll up to the shop like we always did, smoking Black and Milds, and trying our best to fill an afternoon. I was always excited to hit the shop and with each step, my anticipation would grow, like a kid walking up to Disney Land. With every drop of the leather, the place that held all the magic was getting one step closer. Finally, I would hit the door and I was home.
Doug forever at the register, just to the right of the entrance and Al, posted up on the opposite side of the room working out whatever he had going on in his head. More often than not there was some heavy metal blasting in the place, but every now and again it was quiet, like a library. The shop had a particular smell that I cannot describe with words, but even today can picture it. Probably due to all that plastic, shrink wrap, cardboard, vinyl, mixed in with cigarette smoke and a faint whiff of Ganja. Oh, how I miss the place.
I always saved the best spot in the store for last (Doug’s post) and would slowly start the circle. I would always check the bulletin board (cork and push pins) for the latest flyers, show announcements, and random shit people tacked up. When the board was full, directly below on the floor was items that local bands would leave for people to hopefully grab and take home. Because I was chronically broke, I spent a lot of time at this free spot in the store. Next it was on to the one rack of shirts. I couldn’t afford any of them, but it didn’t stop me from flipping through whatever was there and dream. Insane Clown Posse usually had some killer gear hanging there and I would touch the material with great care (because I couldn’t buy it) and envision how cool I would look if I only had a few bucks.
Next I made the loop, checking the glass cases near Al and I would let my eyes glance over everything I could take in. Kids today might not be that impressed, but to see that many cd’s of good music in one spot was magic. Al would usually ask one time if I wanted to see anything, and I would decline. I didn’t want to bother him on a good day, and as soon as I said “just looking” he would check back into whatever else he was doing. Those guys never bothered a window shopper, no matter how long you lingered, and I think that showed a lot of class (then and now).
After completing half the loop, I would then turn my attention to the “stacks” of records in the center of the room. I would slowly tick each album, studying the artwork on the cover and maybe reading the back, before setting that record down and moving to the next. I suppose the records usually took me about twenty minutes to burn through. Every now and then someone would be next to me and I would secretly eyeball what they were looking at. It was the 1990’s and there was no internet (at least not available to me, hell computers were still an oddity in my neck of the woods, with the schools maybe having one for each classroom if you were lucky. They didn’t do anything anyway, all you could really do is die on the Oregon Trail. You either know or you don’t).
Anything cool or worth having that was not on MTV’s dick or in the hands of an asshole at the radio had to be “found”. Like a blind man in the wilderness, feeling around for something of value. That was how it was. Sometimes I’d strike up a conversation with another music head, and then the knowledge would be shared, by word of mouth. “Oh if you like this, than you should check out that”. Not all suggestions were worth a fuck, but there was no way to know other than tracking down a copy to hear for yourself. Some word-of-mouth picks were terrible, but it was like going on a quest. When you got “bad directions” (recommended shitty band), all you could do was note that the person who sent you could no longer be trusted with “advice”.
The last stop of the day was the best section of the small shop and was where you would find Doug. His small case near the register had some great shit in it, along with cassettes on the wall, and of course the merch. I tried to be as accommodating as possible without being a nuisance when speaking with Doug. I rarely had more than five or ten bucks (if that, sometimes I went just because) and tried to savor every second of the experience. I would ask Doug about any ICP news and his eyes would light up, with that huge smile. “The Clowns” as he sometimes referred to them respectively….”they got a new item out, they were just here”. I would listen to every word, hanging on for as long as they floated in the air. Sometimes he talked about a new single, album, shirt, or whatever. He would talk about the concerts with a few inquisitive questions to prod him along but was always top shelf. He kept an autographed 2-liter of Faygo Cola (69 cents at the time) signed by ICP next to the register and I would have given three of my fingers to have it.
Moving on/time to spend money
So, the day I was there, with about six bucks in my pocket, I did the same circle walk that I always did and found myself at the end of the ride, talking to Doug. “Did you see that single the Clowns did with Cykosis, it just came out” Doug said. I said that I had not, but was excited because singles didn’t cost more than three or four dollars at that time and I had enough to make it work. “Check this out” Doug says and reaches over to the cassettes on the wall, and hands me a cassette.
It was when singles came in small cardboard sleeves (probably cheaper than the plastic cases) which was interesting. The thing was though, eventually the cardboard would get worn out and the tape would no longer stay in place, causing the bastard to slide out all the time. The artwork looked really interesting, and the best part was Insane Clown Posse was on the single. This was one for the collection. I had never heard of Cykosis before and Doug said they were from “Toledo”, which I had limited knowledge on as well. All I could think of was “Mud Hens”? The Detroit Tigers junior team perhaps? That was in Toledo or at least I think that’s how it went. Beyond the Mud Hens, I had no idea what the shit was about, but I didn’t care. Like I said before, if Violent J or Shaggy 2 Dope broke a glass bottle of Faygo, I would have stared at it for an hour, before taking a few pieces of glass as souvenirs.
Observations:
The front looked like some trippy LSD type of poster from the 60’s, with weird shaped letters. I must admit, even today the cassette is intriguing. I remember staring at the front for a while. “Cykosis and the Cykodelichell Band featuring I.C.P.”. It was interesting enough, which was just a bonus because for a few bucks, anything ICP was on, I was picking up anyway.
Both sides of the “sleeve” had “Duce Duce Records” with double spade logos, “Cykosis” written again and the words “Blood Stains Cykodelichell Mix” as well. In small red writing was “DDR8001” beneath that. The back had a little more to read and said “State of Cykosis: was produced by Cykosis, recorded at Boomer’s, mixed and mastered by Fil at Fil’s. Thanks Boomer (and Pat)”.
“Blood Stains the Cykodelichell Mix: was programmed at Fil’s, recorded at Audiomatrix (unfourtunately) and hell mixed over at Fil’s (by Fil’s alter ego “The Hellmaster”). Cykosis is a state of mind, not a state of grace. Many gracious blessings to I.C.P. When you’re looking for what’s right, always look to your left”.
The inside held the tape, and the cassette was actually stamped “made in the USA” (what a novel fucking idea that was). Instead of side one and two, it said “In your mind” (side) “Blood stains cykodelichell mix”. The side featuring “In your soul” had “State of Cykosis” on it. I kept on looking and observing but knew that this tape was “mine” and eventually paid Doug for it.
I was excited to hear anything that featured underground rap on it, and having the “Clowns” on it, made it that much sweeter. I remember taking the tape home and hiding it. If my mom found this type of shit, it was going to the garbage. It’s just the way it was. If I was going to hold onto something, it was going to be with stealth ninja like tactics.
Initial Reaction:
The cassette starting playing and I will admit it, I didn’t know what the fuck I was listening to. It was haunting and strange, first coming on slowly with distorted music and what sounded like background tracks on a record being played in reverse. It caught me off guard, but I listened intently as the track slowly came to life. I remember hearing what I thought was Shaggy 2 Dope talking “Cykosis….and the Wicked Clowns”. I didn’t really know but the first thirty-two seconds started out great, then the Cykosis hit the mic…
It was some serious serial killer, demented body dismemberment type shit (lyrics) and again, I didn’t know what the fuck to think about it. I knew the kind of stuff ICP rapped about, but these guys from Toledo were just different and maybe not in the best type of way. I won’t sit here and shit on them, because it was the 1990’s, they obviously were trying to do something, but the even for an underground head, the lyrics “cut to the chase” but not in funny type of way. It was conjuring up more like disturbing type of shit, that no one was really saying that straight forward, or at least that I had heard prior. It wasn’t clean, the lyrics almost didn’t flow right, and again, it was just….well….a thing I guess.
The bummer was, the song and beats actually sounded good to me, but those fucking lyrics man…I just wasn’t feeling that. It wasn’t the type of shit you could bump with the windows down and be “cool”. I know horror core/underground has drifted into content with some similarities today and I’m fine with that. Everyone gets to be who they are, this is America and that is your right…or at least freedom of speech used to mean something. Cykosis had the right to say what they wanted, they did, and well…I listened.
Around 1:34 (minutes) you can hear Shaggy with a chorus of sorts, and that part sounded great to me, then boom “I feel like I’m on Heroin, every time I see a group of nuns I want to bury em” comes rocketing out of the speaker. I remember thinking, “go back, where the fuck did 2 Dope go” but he was gone and all that was left was this really raw voice barking out lyrics, which were better than the first part, but unique and abrasive. I didn’t know much about these guys, but the first cat turned me off with the lyrics and not so great flow, the second guy had slightly better lyrics but the delivery was so in your face, that it overshadowed the message, which was only slightly better than the first guy. It was a paradox of the smallest order.
2:51 (Minutes)
Shaggy came back with some chorus, then there was trippy sounding “scratching” or whatever the hell it was, in the background. It’s classic 2 Dope, talking shit, letting everyone know what time it is and then Violent J blasts through the front door of the track. “I’m Violent J, the ghetto cap peeler, Southwest Strangula, Serial Killer”. The difference between Cykosis and ICP couldn’t have been more apparent and momentarily relief flowed back into the room, or at least back into my “boom box”.
Insane Clown Posse had that “it” factor even back then. The lyrics were less disgusting, more interesting, and had a dynamic delivery that sounded polished and special. Technically they were all rapping about the same kind of stuff, but that’s where the similarities ended. Some people are good at what they do and you can hear it, even back some 27 years ago on this track. I suppose there are always going to be two kinds of people in the world, those that want to and those that can. Nothing more. No disrespect to Cykosis, I would have done no better (perhaps a lot worse) had I tried to rap with the Clowns, which I wouldn’t have because I wasn’t a rapper anyway. But they tried and you have to give them that.
Sometimes going outside the box or being so overly extreme can get you noticed, but the danger there is that once you have that “attention”, does your product deliver? It’s risky and bold, but my hat is off to Cykosis for doing whatever they thought was right. At least they did something. There are people in this world that talk, and talk, and talk, and….well fuck….all they do is talk. The action never seems to come you know, just words piled upon words. I’ve learned to steer clear of “talkers” because although I can get lost and also be lazy, I still like action. It’s what turns me on. People who aren’t about much, once discovered, don’t have any room to ride on this magical school bus. No sir. If I wanted to hear talk, I would turn on the bullshit TV and listen to the lame shit on there, maybe listen to some corrupt politician spew voice vomit all over the room. Fuck all that. I never really trusted the government, no matter what side they were on and I still don’t, anyone who does, does so at there own peril I suppose.
So anyway, Shaggy comes on the track next around 4:32 (minutes). Just like Violent J, the lyrics are interesting, well delivered, imaginative, and light years above the first two cats. And that’s it. The song slowly bounces along for a while, which wasn’t bad. In fact, I still think it’s a decent “sounding” song musically, and other than what I already pointed out.
Takeaways:
I remember coming away from the listening experience thinking “I’m so glad my scene is dope”. I didn’t know what the fuck was going on in Ohio back then, but I was definitely partial to Detroit for sure. That’s not to say that Cykosis didn’t grow on me eventually. Cykosis might have been the “Orphans” but ICP was definitely the “Warriors” if you know what I’m saying. Still, the guys from Toledo did a song with my heroes and that allows them a spot in the library.
I put the tape away for a long time, but I never let go of it. Cykosis as a group, was how I used to view Halloween Part 3: Season of the Witch. It wasn’t like the others, and definitely was missing something that I was looking for, like Part 3 is missing Michael Myers. It was part of the body, because it featured ICP, and in spite of my initial reaction to it, eventually came to cherish the tape anyway. I did the same thing for Season of Witch, at first hating it, then ignoring it, but finally accepting it. It was part of the Halloween Series, so what can you do. Unlike Part Three S.O.T.W., I never would warm up to the single, like I did with the movie. (Author’s Note: The reasons for my initial dislike of S.O.T.W. will be discussed somewhere else where I have more time, because it is complex, long winded, and will surely only add confusion to the direction of this article, so please wait for that another time).
As time went on and my collection of Insane Clown Posse items grew, I eventually started working at a real job and had a few bucks to piss away on whatever I wanted. When I was caught up with the ICP side of things, I started revisiting my past and collecting other local groups who had been on the playing field (regardless of winning or losing) during that time. Some stuff I had, other stuff I finally had time to get into, but most of all, preserving what had come before. History God Damn It, please do not discard it, or you will walk blind through the ages!!!
I caught a habit of digging for obscure harder to find stuff, that wasn’t perhaps so closely associated with the Juggalo Culture and Music but had been out there at one time. Most of these groups tried for a single or scratched an EP together before fading into the night, but as I’ve gotten older, the landscape has become just as important as the stars.
Cykosis released an EP called “Severed from Reality” that same year in 1995, and I will have to be honest here in saying that after the single, I wasn’t really looking for any more material from Cykosis, at least not back then. I knew one guy in high school who had a copy of “Severed from Reality” but beyond that, I knew of no other fans in my area of the group. I eventually tracked down a copy in the late 2000’s for the collection but never listened to it really. I guess my ears didn’t like that sound, but I still respect them for trying or doing (depending on who you ask) what they believed in. That is always admirable I suppose.
As time went on, I picked up another copy from their body of work called “Hallows Eve in the Glass City” (DDR8002) but it was for collection purposes by that point (Circa 1997). There was also an album called “Choir of a Nutcase” (DDR8010) which also came out in 1997. In 2000 Cykosis was featured on a compilation album called “Exposed III, Hot Doggin’ the Midwest” and was released by Sin Klub Entertainment (SKO16). I have never come across that, although I guess I’m not exactly looking for it.
Further:
If you look on page 548 of “Behind the Paint” by Violent J with Hobey Echlin, the single is discussed briefly. The text says that “ICP was contacted by an unknown rap group in Toledo to do a collaboration track for their new album. ICP agreed to the idea, and recorded the track, which turned out to be horrible. ICP asked Cykosis to never release the song, and they gave their word that they wouldn’t. A year later Cykosis heartlessly released the track on their EP, and promoted it as featuring ICP, everywhere. Enraged, ICP and Psychopathic pulled some strings to remove all the albums from the stores. Cykosis took ICP to court over the matter and lost. Broke and shamed, they disappeared into the Toledo streets”.
The only thing I can say here is that it sounds like Cykosis did a jive thing by releasing the track, when they promised they wouldn’t. I don’t care for that at all. Perhaps the temptation was too great, having worked with magic, to just discard the song. It’s basically the only thing that keeps the name Cykosis alive, so on one hand, it was possibly a form of self preservation, but they also went back on their word. In all likely hood, “Blood Stains” was as good as it was ever going to get for them and so you have a life trap. The best thing they had worked on, couldn’t be released. I wouldn’t want to be in that boat. And say you decide “fuck it” and release it, which they did…you’ve destroyed that relationship forever. Maybe they secretly knew that they would never work with ICP again and said to “hell with it”? I don’t know but there it is.
In conclusion:
So, we’ve come to end of this vault dive. It’s pretty wild when you can drum up five thousand words for five minutes’ worth of recording, but we managed to do it. I know this might sound bizarre, but until this very day, I’ve never listened to the other “side” of the cassette single. Just for shits and giggles, I decided to fire up YouTube (Author’s Note: I will never play any of my collection cassettes in a tape player for fear of destroying the tapes. The machines are notorious for “eating” them up and I’ve learned my lesson with some really near misses, only fixed by patience and a number two pencil, you either know or you don’t. So, YouTube is a safe alternative at this point) and see what I had been missing for twenty-seven years.
Bonus Material:
State of Cykosis: “In Your Soul” side
The beat is different. Very strange I suppose all around. I will say that I actually like it better than Cykosis’ parts on “Blood Stains“. I’m not sure about the “bouut bouut” rasta type shit vibe? Again, the music is ok, but it just doesn’t sit right with me. And that’s ok, who the fuck am I anyway? Just another washed up alcoholic crazy asshole. The song sounds like a confusing mash up but again, if this is your type of shit, then maybe it makes more sense to you. I judge no one. I waited, unknowingly, twenty-seven years to hear this track and I guess I don’t have anything to say about it.
Thats about all the time we have for today. Thanks for coming along for the journey and I hope that you keep checking back here once in awhile to see what I’m getting up to. I have lots more to share, so I will be keep on rolling with that as the days give way to months. Stay safe, treat people with respect, and I will catch you on the flipside. Until next time.
Signing Off,
Mike Shepard
ROX-TV Head Writer
