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by Johnny Skilsaw

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Something Bad People People want to see Something Bad Something horrifying terrible and mean Would you bring me up to speed? Cause the corn is black Your eyes are blackening and your attention’s Back in a squozen tube To rescue you from the bends To save you from your making friends People People want to see Something black And I've been reckoning about the camels back And the dog that spurs you on Is one bad dog And I've been reckoning about that bad dog Walking all over you And selling you out again Look up and cut that rope my friend Aren't you tired of hanging? Aren’t you tired to death? Aren't you tired of hanging? Being hung to death Cut the rope and come back to us Cut the rope and come down
Fat Man 02:48
Fat Man When the Fat Man comes All the music gets left for dead Oh no Big and sad and hollow The work in progress of a blossoming saint with his tuba slung around And around round-round-round Gotta roll Bigger fish to swallow Take a meeting in the conference room about popsicles and ghosts And the big words fly and the fat man has to roll Roll Gotta roll Uh Oh-Oh NO Biting down doing donuts round the other guy Roll Gotta roll (from Bram Stokers novel "Dracula") "The branch of wild rose on his coffin keep him that he not move from it and as for the stake we know already of it's peace or the cut off head that giveith rest" Copyright Jay Wasco
Death Of A Cynic And the cynic dies today A hapless victim we can't save He scoffed and sneered his life away Throwing stones and digging graves He don't know where to go And their shovels pierce the ground As he watches through a wall of stone Fences fade to rust Headstones and epitaphs fly to dust He don’t know where to go Driving him into the ground And the family gathers 'round And puts the cynic in the cold, cold ground With words he couldn't say His heart fills with sadness as they drive away Forgive forget about Forgive forget about it anyway Forgive forget about Forget about the things he couldn't say I can't forget about the things he couldn't say I can't forgive all of the things we couldn't say Driving him into the ground Copyright 2004 Wasco/Patterson
Swollen Ocean Thirteen years on the swollen ocean Longest stretch that my eyes have ever seen Epileprosy in slow motion Padded walls that are staggered at the seams Blood in the swollen ocean Blood in the swollen sea Had a dream my right hand was severed Had a dream that my daddy's grave got robbed His bones were plastic His heart was missing Fishing hard 'round the strange humor of God Blood in the swollen ocean Blood in the swollen sea coppyright 2004 Jay Wasco
Lockjaw 03:54
Lockjaw Serrated edges of her venomous sequesters wanna play All She's the one who makes me green Her hubris runs cold and dry She makes unwitting poets die She cuts the corners off the plastic bag and licks her hate away She's the one who makes me green Her melted skin and butter eyes Stumbelina's out to die Sorry She mutilates herself because she knows it's hopeless anyway Her melted skin and butter eyes She went for broke and left us dry Quick trip Drip drip Hard Fast sip Last drip Give her more Quick straw Last call ya'll Lockjaw Free fall Through the floor... More
Bottle 03:18
Bottle Eyes never too far from that bottle I'ze never too far from that bottle There's something in the water that is making all the happy campers smile, all Day There's something in the water that is making all the happy campers Sleep this mess away We slip away into oblivion And we spin and we spin Like a bubble in the wind Into the azure sky We lift our feet into oblivion And we swim and we swim On the lazy summer wind Into the azure sky Sleep it away away away away away And the moonlight shines On those who pay to see the moon And the starlight hurts my eyes Eyes never too far from that bottle I'ze never too far from that bottle There's something in the water that is making all the happy campers smile There's something in the water that is making everybody want to sleep this mess away.
All the Impossible I drift my doppelganger to her side Drifting seamlessly on off into her case All the impossiblee I turn invisible and stretch myself across the city through her door Through the entourage of swans and red herring All the impossible I see her shifting in her sleep as I come swoop down low The dreams come bubbling from her head creating figure eights of gold The door swings open, time to sober up, her husband’s home, I think I hear her baby crying Gonna have to pave my own way, back to sleep All the Impossible Copyright 2004 Jay Wasco
Midnight Dragon Midnight Dragon staggering far and wide Side to side End of the wagon ride Cutting it up into hundreds of thousands Of tiny pieces of green' pieces of red Pieces of gold Sold for a dollar fifty-nine To the fuzzy handsome couple with the swollen brains Remains will be sprinkled out the driver's side window of a speeding El Camino in the left lane Cheers Just kiss it away I fucked it up I spun out Pour the concrete in my mouth Ship me out of here There's a special reserve For autistic, Cycloptic psychotic mystics And runners up in the Special Olympics Ode to be oblivious to what you want from me now
A Cornucopia of Pain Well I woke up feeling small Beat my head against the dirt But it never seems to harm enough Smashed my fingers in the door But it always leaves me Jonesing for the kind of pain The world can spill I left my house today in search of all the sorrow I could get A cornucopia of pain A cornucopia of viciously excruciating pain So I went out with a frown Staring at the hopeless cement boxes all about. I'm so sad and fucking old Everything they said to me Never made it through the din I'm heading home tonight In search of all the horror That I could get A cornucopia of pain


Years back, for a fleeting moment I had the best Band in NYC.

No joke

Johnny Skilsaw is/was a unique NYC band most active in the mid 90s centered around music conceived on my Swiss Army Bass (more about that here www.jaysmuseum.com)

We performed at any and every NYC downtown clubs through various incarnations especially CBGB and Brownies,, riveting unsuspecting audiences with unique instrumentation, while bringing noteworthy musicianship and songwriting cloaked amidst controlled musical chaos.

The band became successful with the lineup that included Nick DiCorato (drums) and Mark Hutchins ("Octopussy") playing larger venues gaining the attention and assistance of various music luminaries such legendary record producer Jack Douglas.

We signed with Tag/Atlantic in early 96 , a dream come true.

Unfortunately, mere months after we signed the Tag imprint was discontinued due to a corporate merger leaving us in a prolonged legal limbo, a fate faced by more often than not by many artists.
Another ill fated deal went down with Wild Pitch Records in '98 for the second album "Blood Lead". Wild Pitch also folded - thus the bands two LPs were never formally released ....
....and the world moved on.

Tragically Nick Dicorato died in 1999 and Mark Hutchins later in 2016. One couldn't hope for two better guys and great musicians to be in a band with. They're completely irreplaceable both as friends and musicians. We went through virtually every dream and nightmare a band could possibly have. . I could literally write a book.

This album "Stuffed And Motorized" was recorded at various studios in and around NYC including the one I lived in and maintained. It was created admits nonstop chaos of playing scores and scores of gigs to larger and larger crowds and endless all night recording/mix sessions that didn't end until well into the next day. There wasn't a single bar in the east village that we couldn't and didn't drink for free when we weren't rehearsing or working on this record. The drama was high and cast of characters and situations surrounding us while trying to navigate or way through the music industry was extreme. I'm exhausted just sitting here thinking about it let alone trying to describe it.

I've recently gotten around to explore and field alternate versions of songs we recorded for the album that were dis-guarded back at the time in the interest of making a deadline imposed by the record label. I came across a slew of drastically better versions of tracks including "Something Bad" through to the last track "Cornucopia Of Pain" and remixed them.

I had a bitter/sweet time going through this and working on it. Every nuance bringing to vivid memory the intensity and passion Nick, Mark and I held.
I dare say our record holds up well. We put our hearts and souls into every note. I hope and wish more people get a chance to hear it.


Album flash website www.unquantized.com#!__stuffed-and-motorized
or html


released September 26, 2017

Jay Wasco- Swiss Army Bass, Vocals, Feedback. (The Swiss Army Bass: Simultaneous bass guitar and keyboards)
Nick Dicorato- Drums
Mark Huchins- The Octapussy, Percussion, drums & Backing Vocals. (The Octapussy is a home grown sample trigger device made
of destroyed drum hardware & vacuum hose)

All songs written by Jay Wasco except "I Am The Walrus" - Lennon/McCartney "Death Of A Cynic" Wasco/Patterson "Bottle" Wasco/DiCorato.
Produced, mixed & engineered by Jay and Mark.. Additional Engineering by Ray Martin. Recorded at Shelter Island Sound, Hermit Village and Excello in NYC Circa 95/96. Mastered at Sterling Sound by George Marino, assisted by Jack Douglas and Steve Addabbo. Some tracks reanimated, re-cut, re-mixed re-tweaked and Enhanced in post by JW (this LP truly is "Stuffed And Motorized") CD Cover art and design by JW. Raw sculpture photo (tray) as well as group "Dudes" shot to by Michael Halsband . Executive Producer: Ron Fierstein.

Peace and love to the memory of Nick DiCorato & Mark Hutchins


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Jay Wasco New York, New York

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