Chapter 5: Fatso Forgotso Bout a Guy Named Spittrœst

Chapter 5Fatso Forgotso Bout a Guy Named Spittrœst

They lined up at the mouth of a rundown auto shop turned recording studio in Hawaiian gardens to record their first album. The place, formerly Chela’s Tires, became Nazipuncher Recordings. Ironic, considering the owner Spittrœst later turned out to be a nazi and a furry. After waiting for about an hour, they finally got their turn.
“Can’t,” said the man.
“Watchu mean ‘can’t’,” asked Justino, “we’re paying you money for this!”
“I already have another band on this label by the name of the Shitbirds. Decent hardcore outfit, making me quite a bit.”
“Ain’t you supposed to be a punk dude?”
“I run a business. Now get lost.”
“Alright, Mister… Spitroast, is it?”, weighed in Crowley, “how about we simply change the name of our band?”
“Shit,” interrupted Chuy, “how ‘bout the Scumbirds?”
“Chuy shut the fu–”
“Deal,” said Spittrœst.
The band stepped into the recording studio and spent the better part of half an hour setting up their equipment and searching for decent tones.
“No no, more mid— too much, too much boss,” said Justino as he continued riffing to test his guitar tone.
Chuy plucked his new bass and fiddled with the settings on his amp, unsatisfied with the clarity of the tone. ”Ey you got any cabs bigger than this?”
”Cab size won’t improve the clarity, drop the gain and add more treble,” said Spittrœst through the PA.
”Hammond coming through good?”
”Perfect, Crowley. Drums, are we good?”
Marcos looked up from his kit and supplied a simple nod.
”Alright, let’s get this show on the road. ‘Bienvenidos’, take one.”
The band got through the song with no issue, managing to nail it in one take. Same with the second song, “Call of the Desert” (which, to anyone with an ear, sounded an awful lot like Alice In Chains’ “All Secrets Known”.) Not even on the third song, “Perturbado Mascado”, did the band struggle—despite the song’s usage of off beat rhythms inspired by Soda Stereo’s “Cuando Pase El Temblor”.
”Guys, what’s the problem? You’ve had no trouble tracking these songs before, what’s up?”
”Fuckin’—Chuy, quit rushin’!”
”I’m rushin’? Hell nah dawg, you’re rushin’!”
”I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but… can we get the bassist a click track?”
”Normally you give the drummer a click.”
”Do I look like I need a click?”
Indeed Marcos had no need for a click track. If there was anyone in that room truly locked into the work of recording this album, it was him. Not a single missed fill—or if there was a miss, he had managed to adapt well. Jazz lessons with Professor Toro at UCLA had paid off indeed.
”Man, y’all suck. Fuckin, bass havin’ to use the click. Who ever heard of that, huh?”
“Chuy, just use the damn click and let’s get this over with.”
”Fine.”
Chuy was handed a set of headphones which he promptly put on. With a one measure count in, the band began their fifth take of “Song for the Deaf” by Queens of the Stone Age. At last, they got it.
The rest of the album went off with few or no issues. “Rollin’ Block”, “Better better Green”, and “Argonautica” were the band’s most obviously Kyuss-influenced tracks, while the song “Mi Cangrejo” was notably more influenced by the Cramps—featuring Crowley on fuzz guitar and Justino on a more twangy surf-style guitar. The final two songs, “This song title is too long” and “Raton de Gay” earned the band the permanent ire of Spittrœst and ensured they would never be working with the man ever again. The first one was a joke song making fun of hardcore, and the second was another joke metal song making fun of reggaeton. The base of it was a beat created by Chuy under his producer name “P4PI MON3DA”. The opening is perhaps the stuff of legend.
First is a drum buildup to “PAPI MONEDA ON DA BEAT!” Followed by the stock sound of a child giggling.
”JNKY4RD on da mic, let’s get it.”
This might be the only example of Justino rapping, and by God what a hilarious example of it. Although the song was no doubt a joke, it was still proof of concept for the existence of meme rap and meme regueton—something that would only somewhat come into existence a whole fourteen years later.
After being ushered out of the studio by Spittrœst with their equipment and masters in hand, the band felt exhilarated. They had just recorded a full-length one hour album. The cover for it was designed by Justino himself on a napkin stained red by a spilt cup of jamaica.

They named the album The Scumbirds. Justino went home that day feeling proud of himself. He dropped a flash drive containing the album onto Laura’s desk in her study upstairs and left a note asking for her feedback. He went looking for Olivia, hoping to get her feedback too. He found her in the backyard, ghost-dancing to Death in June. Certainly an odd choice of music. He decided not to disturb her and instead decided to watch her sway with grace in a large, bell-shaped black dress. She had an ankh painted on her forehead, her face painted white. It looked like a ritual, almost.