DEVIL'S ISLAND featuring ChiodoSupply
Welcome to this weeks edition of Devil's Island! Every week we maroon a band or artist on the island and see what they get up to, how they cope with being all alone on a small island in the middle of the ocean. It's not your average desert island and we'll see just how each person copes with the extreme conditions.
This week when we arrived at Devil's Island we find ChiodoSupply sat on the beach. The island is far from their home, so how did they end up here and how did they cope with life on Devil's Island?
Find out now...
Welcome to The Razors'e Edge and our somewhat lovely, warm desert island. Don't worry about it's name I'm sure it's not as bad as that would suggest.
You're marooned here on this island, but before you ended up shipwrecked you chose one album that you couldn't live without. Which album did you each chose and why?
Easy. I grabbed Rain Dogs by Tom Waits. It’s the kind of album that sounds like it was written on Devil’s Island. You’ve got junkyard jazz, seedy poetry, accordion dirges… it’s like a drunken sermon from the last man alive. Honestly, the seagulls are vibing.
Just behind that palm tree is a shack for each of you to stay in, with enough space for you to put up a poster on the wall of one album cover. What album cover do you each chose?
Johnny Cash’s At Folsom Prison. That cover is raw as hell. Cash mid-sweat, eyes like he knows some things. Puts me in the mood to write songs that sound like gravel and regret. Plus, it keeps the monkeys from stealing my coconuts. Respect. Am I going to have a guitar on this island?
There's also a bar on this here island. But alas each of you only get to choose one drink for the entirety of your stay. What's your tipple of choice?
One drink? Damn. Alright Michters Whisky. It’s got bite, it burns just enough to remind you you’re alive, and it pairs nicely with existential dread and grilled iguana. I know this having lived in Puerto Rico.
Your suitcases were lost when your ship sank, but you each managed to salvage one item of band merch. What’s the merch and for what band?
I saved a tattered old SNFU “open your mouth and say…” shirt from ’mid 80’s. Obviously with the sleeves cut off. Punk roots, middle fingers to the machine.
You’re sat on the island thinking “I’m stuck here on this island with my bandmates for eternity”… who would you rather have been shipwrecked with?
Honestly? None of those stinky fuckers. Maybe that’s why I am a solo artist now? I’d rather be stuck with Willie Nelson. He’d build a still out of driftwood. Dude could roll a joint from palm leaves and turn our SOS fire into a BBQ pit. Legend.
There's a walkman in your pocket, on the tape inside is the recording of the one live show that stands out for you. It could be any show, from any band, anywhere in the world. What show is on that walkman?
That tape in my pocket? Propagandhi – Live from Occupied Territory. Yeah. That’s the one. It’s not just a live show, it’s a political gut punch wrapped in breakneck riffs and razor-sharp sarcasm. It’s like getting lectured by the smartest punk at the protest. They are just rippers dropkicking your apathy into the ocean. And I need that out here. Devil’s Island messes with your head, too much sun, too few ethics. This tape keeps my spine straight and my brain lit up. Also, that show ends with them donating proceeds to activist causes. Even stranded and sunburned, I like knowing my imaginary cassette is still doing more for the world than most billionaires.
You're getting desperate, you decide the only course of action is to put a message in a bottle and hope someone finds it. Your message could be to any member of any band, but should be the most suitable for a rescue attempt. Who is it?
I’m sending my SOS to Ken Casey of the Dropkick Murphys because I know he might be the best human being in punkrock,and hes the kinda guy who’d show up in a sea plane with whiskey, snacks and a guitar.
You've been stuck here a while and food supplies are running low. There's only one thing for it... which fellow band member gets sacrificed to help the others survive?
It’s obviously the bass player. I will not be elaborating on this.
Finally, when the ship sank you each managed to save one person from the wreckage. That person is the one musician that has influenced your career the most, shaped your way of thinking and your outlook on life. Who did you save?
I dragged Greg Graffin out of the wreckage, coughing up seawater and already ranting about the Cambrian explosion. No hesitation. He’s the blueprint, man. Punk rock frontman with Bad Religion, shouting truth to power with vocabulary that made you hit the dictionary between mosh pits. But he’s also a damn biology professor, the guy literally went from punk anthems to peer-reviewed journals like it was a natural evolution. And when he started dropping those solo records, he has 3 I believe, blending Americana, folk, and bluegrass with that same sharp mind and soul? That was it. That showed me I wasn’t crazy for shifting gears myself. Greg’s proof you can age without selling out, go acoustic without going soft, and still burn just as bright, just with a banjo instead of distortion. Out here on Devil’s Island, he’s my lighthouse. And probably the only guy I trust to both teach evolution and skin a coconut with a dissertation.
