Fright right

City officials threaten to shut down MAFIO's day-long concert

by John O'Neill

Seventy-five Webster Street is legendary. The old warehouse is home to a 24-hour gym, a handful of photo studios, and various arts-based retail businesses; but it's the building's basement that is both famous and infamous among musicians. Bands have operated out of the cool and dank rehearsal spaces here for at least 20 years; other than the names on the rented rooms, not much has changed in two decades.

On one recent night, the sound of a beat-challenged drummer reverberates from near the entrance, while metal power-riffing ping-pongs off the concrete from somewhere around the corner and down the hall. The overhead lighting buzzes with the impending death throes inherent to fluorescent tubes. And the bathroom, decorated in Early Filth, emits an odor of a thousand misaimed whizzes. With a latticework of cobwebs that hangs just low enough to make you duck -- and with the festival of urine stink, which has leached deep into the walls -- any trip here is an adventure into potential horror. It also gives the phrase "bowels of a building" an entirely different meaning.

Standing in the hallway with an admitted narcotics jag on is Cheez Fetachini (his spelling), bass player of Upsidedown Cross. If any band are a natural fit in the surrounding squalor they are the men of the Cross. A wall of empty beer cans, smashed religious artifacts, and a lead singer propped up in the corner with green face goo smeared across his puss -- their rehearsal room is the equivalent of Dante's clubhouse. Equal parts gentleman-hosts and sick bastards, Cheez and his crew now find they're the unwitting poster boys for a local fight over free speech that threatens the future of Worcester's outdoor concerts. Arguably the city's most controversial band (this May, they were bounced from the Lucky Dog at their first local show in nine years after a relatively mild-by-comparison set that included tossing out 2000 spider rings and 200 painted bagels, and busting a bunch of Virgin Mary statues), they stand as the odds-on-favorite to elicit the city's (unconstitutional) wrath at this weekend's MAFIO Summer Music Fest. Fueled by the complaints of, arguably, the privileged few (namely, Green Hill golfers), the Cross, as well as all outdoor performers this summer, could have their shows shut down by the city if musicians engage in the ill-defined act of "vulgarity" or if they use "profanity" on stage.

PERHAPS THE PUBLICITY couldn't have come at a better time for the Inverted Ones. They have yet another fine, new album with their impending Hate (they're fourth release) and virtually no chance of getting booked at a Worcester club. Yet the band are looking to get back to the level of international success enjoyed when they were on Taang! Records. Though originally signed to a five-record deal, UDX (whose drummer at the time was alterna-grunge god J. Mascis) bailed after two releases, unhappy with their relationship with Taang!. They've since started the Final Injection imprint and have finally managed to keep a solid line-up together.

"We don't want to jinx it, but we've heard from clubs in Chile that want us to come down. [Hopefully], they'll let us do a regular show without being harassed like we are here in the Northeast," says Cheez. "But they're very religious in South America, so who knows?"

In the meantime, the band as infamous as their HQ have made a name for themselves -- based chiefly on rumor and perceived lifestyle -- in the Worcester-based musicians collective Musicians and Friends International Organization (MAFIO). Less than a year old, MAFIO has quickly become a local force, a support system for local entertainers and a platform to discuss music-related topics Through it, musicians trade information (everything from designing a press kit to sharing media contacts); it also acts as a talent pool for bands looking to flesh out line-ups. Embracing a variety of music styles, MAFIO (which is 50-bands strong) will hold what can be considered its coming-out party this Saturday in a 22-band free-for-all at Cristoforo Columbo Park. Everyone from Mingo's and Billy Pain's homegrown hip-hop to Critical Condition's three-chord pop punk to Gangsta Bitch Barbie's rapcore will be represented.

That Upsidedown Cross will be there is equal parts shit luck and fate.

"Basically Lloyd [Plumstead, MAFIO's chief architect] came down to the rehearsal space and said he'd buy us free drinks [if we came to a meeting], so that's why we went down," says Cross guitarist Dirty Ed. "When we got down there, we found cool bands and a cool agenda, and we've been there for every meeting. One band can only do so much, but 20 or 30 bands working together is more power to us."

Upsidedown Cross are easily MAFIO's most unsettling act, if for no other reason than most people miss the obvious tongue-in-cheek aspect to all that devil loving (how anyone could get their undies in a twist over lyrics like "Kill for Satan/Why are you waitin'" is almost as absurd as the sentiment itself). But the band even have other MAFIO members walking on eggshells. Because the city's Parks Commission has ruled that it will pull the plug on the show for anything interpreted (by city officials who vowed to monitor the show) as vulgar -- some bands sheepishly have suggested the Cross not be allowed on the bill.

The commission's threat is an edict that could conceivably affect not only MAFIO's showcase this weekend, but also September's annual Locobazooka Festival (which last year drew an audience of more than 10,000; this year, headliners include Primus and Type O Negative) and any potential future shows on city-owned land.

"Profanity was a major concern. Everything must be in good taste," says Plumstead. In meeting with the Parks Commission, deputy commissioner Rob Antonelli told MAFIO representatives that there would be one warning and one warning only before the show was forced to close. The commission also requested that the PA system be equipped with a kill switch, and Plumstead is required to carry a cell phone so he'll be in direct contact with the city throughout the day-long Shrewsbury Street event.

"If they received complaints from the citizens they would ask us -- actually, they would tell us -- to shut down," relates MAFIO board member Alan Gomes, whose son Matt plays in the pop/punk trio Critical Condition, whose upcoming disc is titled, appropriately enough, Censorship Sucks. Says the younger Gomes of the city's stance, "I plan to stick with it, but with reservation. I don't like limitations because it takes away from how you can express yourself."

How the city came to willfully suggest it may steamroll the US Constitution in favor of good, clean fun is actually little more than the result of last year's Locobazooka, which met head on with city Councilor Tim Cooney's golf game. While on the links near the all-day Green Hill Park festival, Cooney heard a band of questionable moral turpitude apparently infringe (several sources say a musician screamed "shit" while on stage) upon his right to putt in peace. When Loco's promoter Dan Hartwell later returned to City Hall to present Worcester with its cut (since the festival's inception, Hartwell has donated funds to benefit the city's pools and zoo), Cooney went unceremoniously bonkers. Fortunately for Hartwell, Councilor Stacey Luster made quick work of Cooney by dropping the word "censorship."

"I made a big stink, but it was pretty vulgar," says Cooney of the Back Nine Incident. "If it's in a confined area in a building [that] is one thing, but neighborhoods shouldn't be subjected to it."

Though Cooney acknowledges there were no neighborhood complaints the day of the show, after his chamber-floor outburst, "other people [brought the foul language] up to me . . . mostly golfers.

"I think [the Parks Commission] has curtailed [Hartwell] and sent him a message that it's up to him to control his performers. You can still have your entertainment, but not at other people's expense. I'm not against people enjoying themselves, but the offendee has certain rights, too. They're on taxpayer's property."

As in the people's land. And that's the Big Oops that makes the potential shutdown by the city ripe for a lawsuit should it decide to act on the threat. While their intent may be noble in theory, it isn't within the city's rights to curtail what is only morally objectionable language. As comedian Lenny Bruce ultimately proved (in what cost him his livelihood, and finally his life) one man's profanity is another man's descriptive; and filthy is in the eye of the beholder. Not in 35 years (since Bruce's obscenity convictions were overturned by the US Supreme Court) has an entertainer been convicted of obscenity.

"The problem is one, what is profanity? The second issue is who decides what profanity is? The third problem is there is no legal definition of profanity, so there is no reasonable enforcement for standards," says American Civil Liberties Union Worcester chapter director Ronal Madnick. "What's profanity to a police officer may not be profane to someone else."

While members of MAFIO agree to stay within the perimeters of the Parks Commission's request -- Hartwell too reports that this year's Locobazooka line-up is also falling into line -- it's only for fear that failure to comply could lead to more serious consequences than simply shutting down a show. There is an undercurrent that future promotions could run into considerable resistance when it comes time to grant the necessary permits.

"I've checked into the legality of it," says Hartwell. "[Legal action] would blow up Locobazooka, and then there wouldn't be a concert. And that would be too bad because it took years [to get to this level], and the city deserves a good show."

The city's attempt to shield our ears is ultimately naïve. Call it the eroding of the value system, blame it on Jerry Springer, point the finger at Hollywood -- but, frankly, the language in question no longer carries the weight it once did on the shock-o-meter. Unfortunate to face for some, but it's a fact. As Madnick readily adds, "A lot of people use the F-word in normal speech! It's not that shocking anymore. People can roll up the window of the car, or run quickly by. [As for pulling the plug], I don't know if they can do that."

Which brings us back to Upsidedown Cross. Having spent a career blasting their toes off in the name of putting on a great show, they realize all eyes are on them. MAFIO is holding its breath, Hartwell is a little nervous, and the Parks Commission waits to see what it will do if, in fact, it's confronted with on-stage obscenity. Though the Cross's music rarely contains classic profanity, it is chock full of what is considered blasphemous rhetoric. And no show is complete unless crucifixes are hurled into the crowd, religious icons smashed, and Satan gets his proper. How this next performance will all play out is anyone's guess.

"Actually we talked to the city to find out what we can and can't do without getting arrested, and we don't want to get shut down. We won't be smashing Mother Marys, we'll be smashing blue `ghosts,'" says Cheez with a smile. "[Even MAFIO] is afraid we'll do something totally fucked-up. Dan Hartwell said if it doesn't go right, we're gonna wreck outdoor shows. But it will still be interesting -- mayhem, destruction, and the ballsy-est Cross show to be seen yet . . . without swearing."

On the MAFIO stage

10 a.m. Billy D Boys

10:30 a.m. Revolving Radio Userr

11 a.m. Deliverence

11:30 a.m. Metroliners

Noon Intercore

12:30 p.m. Mingo/Billy Pain

1 p.m. Headrental

1:30 p.m. TBA

2 p.m. Red Mercury

2:30 p.m. Good Question

3 p.m. Skulltobbogan

3:30 p.m. Dimwit

4 p.m. Critical Condition

4:30 p.m. Eastcide

5 p.m. Emily

5:30 p.m. Fallen

6 p.m. Within

6:30 p.m. 5 Year Sentence

7 p.m. Phenol

7:30 p.m. Gangsta Bitch Barbie

8 p.m. 7th Rail Crew

8:30 p.m. Upsidedown Cross