StickNick dot Com

"Can we use the basement to rehearse?"

I did what most kids do when they really really want something: When parent number one said no, I asked parent number two. In the end, I got negative, yet noncommittal, responses from both my mom and dad so I took matters into my own hands. Hey, I never heard yes or no from either of them. There was a "we'll see" in the conversations somewhere - that I do remember.

Every Saturday they both hopped in the Jeep and fucked off for most of the day. They would gallivant all over the region; driving through the countryside, getting lost on back roads, checking out stores, you name it. My brother and I used to have to go with them but, since we were older we could now stay at home if we wanted. Of course, I chose to do this (as did my brother, although what he did with his time on the weekends I honestly can't remember).

One of these Saturdays, in the early spring of 1989, I was up and at 'em early... and the parents were no sooner out of the house than a phone call was made and Doug's dad showed up in his monster car (old 70's tank style - can't remember the make) with Doug and the drums packed in there. We unloaded the kit and started setting up. Geoff showed up about half an hour after that with his bass and amp in tow.

We didn't do too much jamming that day, we mostly just fucked around, letting Doug get used to playing his kit. Just before we stopped Geoff and I busted out "Across The Waters To Destruction" and Doug played along adding a much needed beat... and it sounded pretty killer in it's infant state.

The three of us stopped around 2pm and my folks walked in the door shortly after that. What happened next was interesting.

Mom and Dad asked what was up and we took them downstairs. They didn't really freak, per say, but they weren't a hundred percent happy either.

They asked how loud it was going to be. We told them pretty loud

They asked when they thought we could "make our noise". We told them when they weren't going to be home. Mainly Saturdays.

They considered for a moment and, with a sigh, grudgingly said "yes". The only thing that sucked was that they were now home and we couldn't play any more. No matter. We headed downtown. The snow was pretty much gone (leaving behind a soupy, stinky mess of mud and garbage), it was warm (we could go out in only our jean jackets; which were adorned in studs and band logos in the form of hand drawn and "official" patches), and we now had a place to play.

And play we did.

The very next Saturday Doug and Geoff were on my front steps at ten in the morning. We went downstairs, plugged in and let 'er rip. Something interesting happened that day. We gave up on the hardcore idea and began piecing together the thirty second tunes Geoff and I had been working on into longer compositions. "Across The Waters..." used to be only an intro, a pre-verse and a quick verse. Now it had an instrumental bit after the verse and some weird ass bridge that segued into a second verse. The rest of the lyrics would come later, I was repeating what I already had, but now we had a three and a half minute song.

After "Waters" was extended we started working on another tune and began having conversations about the name of the band. Doug was of the mind that The Unholy Revelations, even in its acronym form, didn't really fit the new music we were coming up with. Back in grade 8, when we first started, it seemed cool - my lyrics were all supernatural happy crappy and such, but now my lyrics were taking on mild political tones thanks to a steady diet of Metallica, Megadeth, and hardcore.

While being at a complete loss of what we could call ourselves, I kind of figured he was right. I don't think Geoff really cared one way or the other.

We had been tossing around names for a week or so when Doug looked at us one day and said: "Dioxide ... only we spell it Die-Oxide."

It stuck. We were now Die-Oxide. With our new name we continued on tweaking "Waters" and writing the new tune (the name, of which to this day, escapes me).

On April 6 of that year, another important event in my life happened: Metallica came to Ottawa on the "Damaged Justice Tour".

This was HUGE. By this time, I was so into Metallica that I was now known at Caterbury High School as Metallica Nick. I was obsessed with the band (a trait I still have to this days when I find new music that I love) and listened to them non-stop on what was the loudest walkman in the school. One day I was sitting at my locker; "...And Justice For All" blaring out of my headphones full blast - they were hanging up on my coat hook - and I hear this voice coming from around the corner...

... this was one of my buddies, Francois, showing a new student around. Before I could even see them Francois said: "You head that music over there? Yeah? That, my friend, is the sound of Metallica Nick's walkman."

At first I was worried I wasn't going to be able to go; my folks were still all over me about the heavy music, the noise in their basement, the fact that I was now growing my hair out, and the cost of the tickets. As luck would have it, Geoffs mom was dating a guy who worked for Bass Clef Promotions (remember them Ottawa peeps?) and she managed to grab two, second row tickets to the concert. April 6 couldn't arrive soon enough.

The day of the concert I skipped school and bussed around with Geoff trying to see if we could find out what hotel the band was staying at. We failed miserably and ended up at the Ottawa Civic Center hanging out in line with all the people who had general admission tix; chanting "Me-tal-lica! Me-tal-lica! Me-tal-lica!" and acting like all 'round hooligans.

The doors finally opened and we headed in - straight to the merch table. T-shirt bought we took our seats. Geoff looked around and spotted Doug sitting way up near the top. I bounced up the stairs to to shout a loud "FUCK YEAH!" at Doug and noticed he was sitting with Dave, the original drummer of The Unholy Revelations.

"NICK?!?!" Dave shouted. "Nick?!? With HAIR! MOTHERFUCKER!"

Doug asked where we were sitting and I pointed down the stairs at Geoff who was beginning the climb up to say "hey".

"Oh, you fucking assholes," Doug groaned.

We shot the shit for a few minutes when Doug mentioned to Dave that the band was now Die-Oxide and that he was playing drums. Dave jumped all over that: "Fuck man, I want IN. Where and when! I'll bring my guitar and shit and we'll get it ON!"

We gave Dave the info and told him we'd hook up the next weekend and see what happened.

Showtime.

I won't go on in great detail about the concert except to say that Metallica blew me the fuck away. Because of that one night I now have a habit of watching live (and behind the scenes) videos every time I'm about to play live. It gives me something to reach for. By that I mean I really have no solid expectations of becoming a professional musician but watching my favorite bands rock the fuck out in front of tens of thousands of crazy ass fans gives me something to reach for playing wise. I want to be that good on stage, no matter how many people show up. If there are only three people there, I'd like at least one of them to walk away knowing I had given them my all.

I also remember that seeing Metallica on top of their game gave Doug, Geoff, myself, and now Dave the drive to dig into getting Die-Oxide up and fucking running.

Back then I did have expectations of becoming a professional musician. It was what I wanted to do. From the moment the house lights came up playing guitar in a Metal band meant more to me than anything else in the world.

Soon, however, there would be too much tension at home to make this an easy task.

... to be continued.