An Ode on Casey Chaos
I spent much of my formative years meandering around Pop’s Nightclub and Concert Venue in Sauget, IL.
Pop’s claim to fame is that it never closes: 24/7 x 365. I read recently that it had to shut its doors during early COVID; it was the first time it stopped operations in decades. Pop’s is unique because it’s technically on the Illinois side of East St. Louis, surrounded by gentleman’s clubs and truck stops. It is a wasteland of idling 18-wheelers, speedfreaks, strippers, and a 24-hour-a-day music venue nestled in the center.
Once, as a teen in Pop’s parking lot, my childhood friend Eric bet John Dolmayan from System of a Down that he could throw an icepack into a trashcan 50 feet away. If he made it, he would receive SOAD tickets for a lifetime. Eric sunk the shot, but John never followed through on the tickets.
In 2001, I met Casey Chaos at Pop’s, and it changed the course of everything for me. I spotted him in his leathers at an Amen show and handed him my band, The Kinison’s demo, Our First Failure. He graciously took the CD, thanked us for coming, then walked off in his Herman Munster clodhoppers.
Half an hour later, Casey found me in the crowd, grabbed me by the shirt, and dragged the whole band onto Amen’s bus to talk. In those 30 minutes, he had already listened to the demo and thought we had the potential to be special.
He later gave us a shoutout during the show: “You see these guys right here? They’re in a local punk band, the future of punk rock. They’re called Kinison!”
That night did more than connect us with Casey—we met our future manager and made friends I still have today. Casey initially thought Ross Robinson should produce our album but ultimately decided it was best to produce us himself.
Casey somehow hustled free studio time at Sound City in LA, where we recorded I Hate Black Sabbath. That title came from Bub, our guitarist, and Josh Homme (QOTSA) conversing about the roots of heavy music. Josh said, “You wouldn’t be playing this type of music if it weren’t for Black Sabbath.”
Bub replied, “I hate Black Sabbath.”
Casey heard it and immediately decided that's what we were naming the record.
That evening, Josh also gave us a dissertation on Corona beer. “Mexico’s finest cerveza,” he arrogantly remarked. What did we know? We were three malnourished Midwesterners who read Howard Zinn and Adbusters, listened to At the Drive-In, and lived on a steady diet of Bud Light longnecks and Xanax.
While tracking IHBS, we stayed at Casey’s flop house in Van Nuys and had flown in from Southeastern, IL. Late one night, we were partying heavily on his front porch, and he swung the door open to chastise me, “You’re the singer, you can’t party like the rest of the band. You need to rest and save your voice. You have to sing tomorrow. Go to bed!”
I made my way to the guestroom with the lifesize coffin and endless framed tour posters, slunk my way into my sleeping bag, and missed home.
We were without a drummer during the recording of IHBS, which was a recurring theme before Mikey Rivera joined later. I was handling the drum duties and wasn’t particularly cutting it—at least not up to Casey’s standards.
Casey made a phone call and enlisted Shannon Larkin to help out. We played Shannon a version of the song with me behind the kit, and after hearing it once, he licked the track in two takes. We all stood in amazement, except for Casey, who was only quietly amazed as he was used to Shannon’s elite playing.
Kerrang! tasked Casey with composing a compilation of music he enjoyed. He was kind enough to feature us with an “exclusive & unreleased” song from the IHBS sessions alongside Refused, Poison The Well, Turbonegro, Amen, and more.
The comical part about being on this release was that we were still living with our parents at the time, and I was a busboy at a country club, filing my taxes using H&R Block’s Rapid Refund option to fund drumsticks.
The IHBS demo generated label buzz, but we were still between drummers, so we hired one from a local Christian band in Terre Haute, IN to do industry showcases at SIR in Hollywood. The drummer couldn’t keep time, which frustrated Casey to the degree that he would tell him, “Play this one for Jesus.”
During the rehearsals, the drummer was failing so miserably that Casey threatened to fire him and tell the A&R at the labels that he had broken his arm during a skateboarding accident. Casey wanted to hire Roy Mayorga as a fill-in and even stashed the poor drummer at the Holiday Inn down the street, keeping him hidden while we game-planned.
We opted to stick with the Christian drummer for the showcases, which were embarassing cattle calls, and the A&R reps were unimpressed.
After the band moved to CA, Casey produced our EP Mortgage is Bank in Simi Valley at a shithole called Chickencoop Studios with engineer, Matt Chidgey.
The title, Mortgage is Bank, came from a light-hearted argument between Bub and myself regarding what our friend Aaron did for work.
I claimed, “He works in mortgage, asshole!”
Bub replied, “Mortgage is bank!”
Casey exclaimed, “That’s the name of the album!”
I took Klonopin and heavily boozed it up during that session and was forcibly removed from the studio after flooding the bathroom and a bit of the tracking area. Casey just laughed.
Matt quit the session several times due to my antics, but Casey always convinced him to continue.
Mortgage is Bank was eventually released on Fearless Records.
After cutting off my long hair and getting a Romulan-style ‘do, Casey referred to me as "Emo Jones” for a week. He loved giving us shit, but he also introduced us to films like American Movie and Gummo and told us we wouldn’t like the White Stripes because “they’re not punk enough for you.” I recall that he hated the band Hot Hot Heat after the keyboardist became the lead vocalist. “You guys still like this shit? They suck now.”
He even influced some of my idiolect. To this day, I still say, “Give me a shout” when asking for someone to call me, a pattern I picked up from him.
I had a bad case of the flu in 2002 at the Troubador in West Hollywood, so I drank two 8 oz bottles of Robitussin before the show. While on stage, I flew off the handlebars and verbally went after a security guard and was barred from the venue for a decade. It was such a bad scene that our management nearly dropped us right there in the back alley after the show, but Casey came around the corner with a large grin and his leather KISS bag on his shoulder and said, “Why is everyone so upset? That was fucking awesome! Great show!”
Casey was a mentor to many of us and while writing this, I kept remembering how many times he made me laugh.
After Casey passed, his friend and photographer/director, Dean Karr listed photos of his extensive t-shirt collection. I was fortunate to reacquire a customized Kinison shirt that we gave to him in 2002, which he had hand-sewn a heart into.
Casey Chaos 1965-2024
Photo Credit:
Live photo courtesy of Casey Chaos, that’s me holding my chin in the jean jacket, right above Casey’s crotch
Studio photo courtesy of George Campos, taken during the Mortgage is Bank sessions at Chickencoop Studios (left to right: Matt Chidgey, me, Casey Chaos, AJ Faller)
Group photo courtesy of me, taken during the I Hate Black Sabbath sessions outside of Sound City Studios (left to right: Todd Wirey, Shannon Larkin, me, Brian Wirey, Paul Fig, Sonny Mayo, Casey Chaos, AJ Faller, Tumor)