The Causey Way
With Loving and Open Arms (Alternative Tentacles)
Chicken needed affection. She needed love. She needed to know that there was purpose in her life. She pursued all the “normal” paths: dance lessons, sleeping around, the latest fashions. Her pursuit earned her little more than a maxxed-out credit card, an intimate knowledge of STDs, and flat feet. Chicken was really hurting inside. Too bad Chicken didn’t know about The Causey Way. The Causey Way provides healing salve for the wounds of the world. The Causey Way makes you feel like you have friends when you don’t. The Causey Way is a sonic pulpit of newhardwavecore emanating from a compound in Gainesville, Florida (which is a helluva lot closer to Waco than Austin is). The Causey Way is at least five musicians, including one drumming Man … or Astroman? and a multitude of angels clad in pure white, delivering messages of salvation and/or warnings about perspiration (“I Sweat”), gossip (“Word Problems”), technocracy (“Carousel of Progress”), and shut-ins (“Bed Is Where”), among other things — things which can lead to the ultimate destruction of the soul and disenfranchisement of the human spirit — or not. The Causey Way is all about basic desire — how to recognize it, how to quench it. While their manifesto says, “We are not a cult,” they preach some damn fine life-saving dogma. So what if they are a cult? We could use more cults with hymns that go, “You so bad, you so bad like a billy goat, you so bad, you so baaaaaaad. You so per-, you so perfect like a kit-ty cat, you so purrrrrrfect … ” We could use more cults with leaders like Causey, who look like David Koresh and sing like Jello Biafra. Chicken? If you are reading this, honey, come on home; all is forgiven. There’s hope: Let us show you the Causey Way. (Saturday, Atomic Cafe, 8pm)
This article appears in March 17 • 2000.