S2, E1: Test (Brazilian grindcore duo)

The Brazilian grindcore duo Test formed in 2010, and they’ve since released four full-length albums and an array of singles, EPs, splits, and collaborations. They have toured the world and opened for bands ranging from Napalm Death to Mr. Bungle. However, if you go searching for interviews with them in English, you are likely to come up empty-handed. Or at least I did. Thanks to the efforts of Luis Misiara (a previous guest on this podcast), we were able to arrange this somewhat unorthodox interview, in which I asked questions in English, they responded in Portuguese, and Luis translated for me. But that’s not all. Luis also helped clean up the Portuguese sections of the transcript, which were then translated into English and added to the video, with the alignment painstakingly adjusted and review by yours truly. In other words, this is a bona fide translation, labored over by *actual humans*. But this is a special occasion and a special band, so I think it was worth it, and I' hope you’ll agree. A huge thank you to Luis for making this possible. **Links** \* Test on Bandcamp \* João and Barata on Instagram \* Tomás Moreira’s incredible *Disco Normal* documentary on YouTube **Music Credits** Test, "Esquema Tático de Destruição em Massa em Nome de Jesus” Test, “Fama/Fome” **Video credits** All live footage in the video version was taken from either the *Disco Normal* documentary or other videos by Tomás Moreira. Please check him out on YouTube and/or Instagram. **Transcript** **Maybe just to start with here, I know you all have been together about 15 years, but was it the idea always to be a duo? Had you played together with each other before Test?** **João:** When I came up with the idea to form Test, it was because I used to have another band here called Are You God?, which kind of fell apart in a weird way. I was really eager to get things done, but the other guys were kind of holding me back at the time. The band broke up, and I lost the motivation to keep going, too. After almost three years of that, I felt like starting a project—mostly just to record some songs I’d been playing by myself at home. I came up with the idea of doing it with just two people because it would be easier; I was still traumatized by having too many people kind of getting in the way of the process. I was in the mindset of not wanting to make something that took so long to release, that was so overcomplicated, or that was as perfectionist as Are You God?—it was supposed to be something more laid-back. So that’s how it went; it still took me a while to reach out to Barata, who at the time was playing in about five bands. When Test started, Barata was playing—and still plays today—with D.E.R., which is a well-regarded grindcore band here in São Paulo. D.E.R. and Are You God? would play together every now and then, so I already knew him, we were already friends, and I already knew he was good. And I’d say, “Damn, Barata—I wanted someone like that,” but I didn’t want to be a hassle for him; I figured he wouldn’t even accept because of that. But then it happened, and, well, the idea wasn’t even to play a show or anything—it was to record a demo, a little EP—and then things just started happening. **Okay. And with I guess maybe some of the questions, both can answer, but is there anything else to add from Barata?** **Barata:** Hello! No, I think he said everything correctly. He didn’t lie. **Well. I’ve seen little bits of footage of shows—kind of guerrilla shows, or shows in places where bands don’t usually play the street—and I’ve heard a little bit a bit about that. But at what point did that come into the picture—doing shows outside of regular venues?** **Barata:** Our thinking was that this would be one less thing to do—going to the venue entrance—so we wouldn’t have to go out of our way to find a place to play, talk to people, and all that. That’s our idea of playing on the street, right? Like, at the venue entrance—it’s not like what’s usually done, which is setting everything up in a place from scratch, promoting it, and putting on the show. It’s about taking advantage of the audience that’s already there. So it was an idea João had from the very beginning. And the very first one we did was at an event here in São Paulo—one of the biggest cultural events in the country—called Virada Cultural. There are several stages there. Back then, it was only in the city center, but later it spread out. But then we set it up at a friend’s pet shop since we didn’t have a generator back then. We borrowed a power outlet from him and put on the show there. The next day we did our first one, which was right outside a concert venue; D.R.I. was going to play here. And the one from the day before was sort of a test run so we could see how it would go, if everything would go smoothly the next day and all that. And we took advantage of the crowd at Virada Cultural, which is a massive event—it’s total chaos in the streets. So the police didn’t even realize that what we were doing there wasn’t part of the Virada. **João:** So, just to follow up on that Virada thing—since it’s an annual event… playing on the street worked out well in subsequent editions. We started organizing it so that other bands we’re friends with could play along too, and then we ended up creating our own stage—which started out as an “unauthorized” setup—and, over time, the festival’s official curators included our stage as part of the festival. **Before watching the *Disco Normal* documentary, I thought that, “Oh, here’s this band that does shows in different places and probably is used to hearing the way their music sounds in different environments and then wanted to simulate that.” I guess I assumed that the album was recorded in a studio but there were maybe different rooms within the studio or different filters … to emulate the idea of playing in different environments. I didn’t realize that it was actually *recorded* in all those different places.** **But then the second album also has some of that quality, where the fidelity or the ambience changes from one track to the next—which is a pretty rare thing on a grindcore album. But was *Disco Normal* the first time that you all recorded like an actual album in different locations, or had you experimented with that before?** **João:** Because of those street shows, we started to realize that a lot of places also had great acoustics—like, there was one time we played down in Vale do Anhangabaú, and I felt like the drums were sounding really good under the bridge. That’s when the idea began to take shape—to one day make a recording like that, based on those street shows, to take advantage of the acoustics of those places. So it was the other way around—the idea to record the album came after the shows. And with the second album, really, like… Because as time goes by—and nowadays more than ever—I think albums all sound pretty much the same. You listen to a 40-minute album, you hear the sound, and it’s just flat. That mix, that flat mastering. Most metal albums sound flat. So that’s where the idea came from to try to mix each track differently on that second album, *Espécies*. We asked a few different people to mix them, precisely so that each track would sound unique, just like he said. **What led to the idea of actually documenting the making of *Disco Normal*? I guess the title is very ironic. But … you knew going in that it was going to be an adventure and a totally different way of making an album, and you wanted to document it? Is it that simple?** **João:** Actually, this album was recorded in the middle of the pandemic. And I was living in this city in the interior of São Paulo called Bauru. That’s when the idea came up to record the album there, to use those spaces that appear in the documentary. The idea to make the documentary didn’t come right away. The idea for the documentary came about by chance. Since we were working during the pandemic, a lot of cultural incentive programs popped up. Brands were offering support, the city government was issuing calls for proposals to record at home, and a lot of people were doing livestreams, etc. We’d submitted a proposal to Vans—the Vans shoe brand—which was supporting some bands at the time. We saw that they were providing support to record a music video or do a livestream. And I’d been accepted into a grant program—one where, after being approved, you had to raise the funds from companies. And during that conversation with Vans, someone on the inside said, “If you have another project, send it our way.” So, I don’t know, one day while trying to come up with a project, I said, “Hey, we’re going to record the album here, so let’s make a documentary about it.” So the idea came about entirely because there was an opportunity to secure sponsorship, and I had to come up with an idea during that pandemic when we were facing financial difficulties. That’s how the idea to make the documentary came about. **Barata:** There were also some of the things we do—people always said we should document them, both the tours and all the other different things we do, because people are really curious to know what it’s like, how we do it, and so on. And on this album, João’s idea was to record not only in different places, but sometimes using a different microphone and everything. And that was another thing that encouraged us to document and record this documentary. **Okay, and the filmmaker, Tomás Moreira—that’s a friend?** **Barata:** Since the band started, he’s recorded a lot of our stuff and edited it, too. He works in video editing, and he kind of got his start—one of the things that motivated him to get into this field was editing our videos and everything else, so he’s been a longtime partner of ours, and the vast majority of the videos we have were edited—and partially or entirely filmed—by him. **Okay. And then, there are different other helpers in the movie—sorry, in the documentary—but I couldn’t always tell.… With the actual recording and engineering, is that something that is primarily done by the band, or is there a designated producer/engineer outside of the band that that’s coordinating that stuff?** **Barata:** It was all up to us. João had written a script—a really basic, general outline—that we followed to some extent. But it was a very loose script. So, I don’t know, there was one day when we were all together, and Tomás and Thiago started writing lyrics together right then and there. And we wanted to capture that moment by writing song lyrics, too. People on the outside could offer their opinions, too. “What if we go film somewhere—I don’t know where?” “What if we do it this other way?” Everything was accepted, but there wasn’t anyone outside the band—no official producer—there. **João:** It’s also great that we get help from a lot of people on various projects, from visual arts to song lyrics written by others. We also have other friends who sometimes do the mixing and help with production. For this album, it was just us handling the sound. And it’s awesome when people get excited—like, when the documentary started, we actually had no idea if Vans would really go for it or not. So we always lay it out like this: “Guys, are you down to do this with us? We might not make a single real, but Vans might go for it and we might get some money.” And the people who are part of the crew, they’re always eager to help. There were also other people who helped out, like with the filming. Ailton, who’s always been a partner; he runs a record label and organizes shows here. And another guy, Kenji, who’s a videographer from Bauru—because the crew from São Paulo went to Bauru to film and stayed there for two or three days. The rest of it we did ourselves—we filmed it—with the help of Kenji, who’s a friend of ours. And in the end, we did other projects in other cities as well. **Luis:** He specifically pointed out Ailton Lucena, who owns his own label. He’s a concert promoter as well. He’s a big figure here. And he would shoot a lot of things. I personally have seen him at pretty much every extreme music show in Sao Paulo. I think he’s like the Multi-Man—there’s many Ailtons in Sao Paulo. I always see him. **So it was recorded in different cities? I don’t know the area. I could see different locations, but I didn’t know exactly….** **Barata:** The vast majority were in Bauru. But then we ended up doing it in... How many more, João? **João:** Some of the vocals were recorded in a chapel—a place I visited on a trip—which is actually an Airbnb these days, at a farm hotel. It was a coincidence: my partner won a weekend stay there, and she said, “We’re going to be staying at this chapel.” I said, “Wow, this is going to be great for the movie—I’m going to record some vocals there.” And we also recorded in Bertioga, which is the city where I’m living now; after Bauru, just before the pandemic ended, I moved to Bertioga. But there were only a few things recorded outside of Bauru. **Barata:** It was mostly just guitar and vocals, right? **Luis:** And I personally also remember Paranapiacaba, the mystical city. I think there were some recordings over there. **João:** The railroads here in Brazil have kind of gone under—they didn’t invest—and a lot of small towns in the countryside have these abandoned trains. And there are some in Bauru—so many, in fact, that when I saw those trains for the first time, I said, “Wow, let’s film here.” And when we were filming, the security guard there tried to kick us out. We said, “Just let us film here.” The guy said, “Man, you absolutely can’t show that this was here.” So we lied and said it was in Paranapiacaba—we know there are some similar trains there. **Luis:** Well, I’ve just gotten hilariously corrected by João, because on the documentary, there’s a scene recorded inside a train that shows the name Paranapiacaba. I don’t think the police is listening to this, but the fact is that it was actually recorded in Bauru. Because, just for context, here in Brazil we have like a whole mesh of railway transportation that’s been abandoned and like jettisoned by public authority. So a lot of the train stations and the trains themselves are abandoned, and they recorded some of the album in one of those abandoned trains in Bauru. João moved there and saw those trains and went, “Wow, we need to record here.” But then as soon as they set up there and did some work, security came and the guard said, “You guys need to leave here immediately.” “Let us just finish recording.” “No! No f\*\*\*\*\*g way you’re gonna show any of this.” So they lied in the documentary and said, “Oh, it’s Paranapiacaba, actually. It’s another city.” So I fell for the joke. **So they actually did record there, did they finish?** **Luis:** They did finish. **Barata:** They thought at first that we were there with that intention too, but then as soon as they took a closer look—when they saw that it was a band, that there was a camera filming and all that—they relaxed a bit, let us finish filming, and were like, “Oh, how much longer will you guys take?” We said, “I don’t know, 10 minutes,” but we ended up staying much longer, and they didn’t even come back—they just said, “No, you can wrap it up there, just don’t say it’s Bauru so it doesn’t reflect badly on us.” Break **So even though this is only about the seventh or eighth episode, one of the themes has been sort of … okay, I’ve had a guest from Norway and one from France and another one from Australia. There’s this international aspect to—not all of it is metal, but heavy music.** **But my thinking, which I think Test proves wrong, is that the idea of local places had become less important. Like, if we think about scenes from the past, like Norwegian black metal or Florida death metal or whatever, that’s something we associate with pre-internet. And nowadays, albums that I like from recent years—I mean, one of them is a Canadian band playing quote “Finnish-style” death metal. Others are one-man bands that might as well be anywhere in the world because they don’t exist as local entities. They don’t exist as a band that can play shows. That Dead & Dripping album that I shared with you \[Luis], I think it’s one guy in New Jersey.** **But on the other hand, Test is very much clearly part of the local geography—or the local geography is part of *Test*. I mean, it’s incorporated into it in a way where the place aspect *is* very central.** **And at the *same* time, I know that there was a contributor, a vocalist, from Full of Hell—not too far away from me, up here on the East Coast of the US. And so I know there’s also this international aspect.** **And … here is where I sputter—where I don’t quite have a question exactly, but … Luis, can you save me here? Like, is there something that you can bring up that might *be* a more pointed question on this theme of local versus international?** **Luis:** I guess not only is it a matter of local and international, but also a matter of inside the computer and outside the computer. Because I think this sort of ties in with João’s critique of modern metal production. And so in a way, Test, in reacting to that, I think, you guys also look for ways to really be a band outside of the computer, as much as it’s probably finalized inside a DAW and you guys produce files and release on Bandcamp. But how is it maybe to be a band that feels more organic in that sense, and present in the world? And how does the dialogue work between an organic production and going out into the world and leaving social media and not really having that much of an active presence. They have their profile on Instagram and whatever, but they’re not wasting time on building that presence instead of—they’re managing to play in Japan, in China, in Chile, and whatnot. **Barata:** I think one of the things he mentioned—that we have a… For example, he talked about that Canadian band that sounds like Norwegian black metal, right? One of the things we’ve always thought is that it’s not much different from being in a cover band when you try to imitate the sound of other bands or a certain style exactly. So we’ve always tried to steer clear of that a bit and put our own sound into it, without trying to copy. For example, one thing that’s really contributed to this in recent years is that I started playing drums in a samba school. So we started incorporating some elements of that sound into Test. We take a little bit of everything we hear and work it in, like that. And that helps us avoid sounding like something from a specific scene, a specific place, or anything like that. And I think it’s really great, too, when people say that—that we don’t sound like anything else, both in terms of the songs and the recording style. **João:** And there’s one thing that’s really cool: since we travel a lot and play a lot of different styles, we’re often taken by surprise at many shows—a band pops up out of nowhere that we didn’t even know existed, and they play a slightly different sound that ends up…not copying them, but you kind of end up being influenced a little—like, it’s noticeable sometimes—but it ends up influencing us a bit, you know, the way they do things. There are a lot of cool bands, a lot of different bands that sound unique out there these days, too. And it’s funny that it seems like record labels and that sort of thing tend to go for what’s more mainstream—what’s already established, so to speak. **Barata:** So when we see that we play with these really different bands—like João mentioned—we get influenced and we try… We think, like, “How can we do something similar to that?” But in our own way, you know? How can we take what we’ve seen here and turn it into something that’s uniquely Test? Not like copying exactly—for example—the type of pedal someone uses, taking that exact pedal with exactly the same settings and applying our sound to it. No, we try to take the idea of what they do and implement it our way. So even the things we pick up from these bands we see out there end up sounding and coming out our way. We don’t think about simply copying; we think about transforming them. **Okay. And that on that point of the drumming, I love that it’s a very minimal drum set—about the smallest drum set you’ll see from a metal-ish drummer. Six pieces. I remember seeing Cryptopsy and it was like, that thing had its own zip code. It was the hugest drum set. And certainly, being minimal in equipment helps with the mobile aspect of the band and setting up.** **But how much of your drumming background came from grindcore as opposed to other kinds of music? Because I feel like I could almost hear a jazz background at certain points, but I don’t know if that’s accurate at all.** **Barata:** It was minimal because I started out with punk rock. So, my main influence—my very first influence—was punk rock, and I still hold onto that; even though it might not seem that obvious in Test, I still have that mindset, too. And I think that, for me, having a small drum kit like that is actually even more important for…for carrying it around, right? Of course, just like he said. But also for creativity. I often have to think a lot there—when we’re writing a new song, a lot of the riffs João plays aren’t very conventional. So I have to think a lot harder to keep up with the riff, to do something different with the minimal drum kit. That way, if it had more cymbals, if it had more drums there, a double pedal, or something else, it would be easier. But I think I’d end up doing what most people end up doing in that situation, right? **João:** It looks really cool from the outside, right? It’s like, I think it’s hard even for Barata to realize, but it’s when the guy sits down at the drum set there—which has so few pieces—that people don’t expect… Anyone watching like that expects way less than what he’s actually going to play—so much so that he mentioned the example of Cryptopsy, those super drummers. The guy wants to show off a lot of technique, and they load up on parts—they pack in so much stuff that sometimes even I only notice it when I see those drum cams. So, during the show, in the song, you can’t even tell. A lot of times, though, I see people going up to talk to Barata at the end of the show and saying, “Dude, check out the sound you got out of the drums just with those fills.” Because it’s become so ingrained that a good drummer uses those massive drum kits, especially in metal and grind. And to add to that, we now have an idea for the next album that we’re trying to move forward with: there won’t be any guitars—it’ll just be drums and vocals—so we’re going to explore the drums much more, and apply effects to the drum track so the sound doesn’t stay the same, to explore even further, to really push Barata’s potential even more in the band’s next phase. **Luis:** I’d say, just to add, I think maybe Marky Ramone’s playing on the album *Loco Live* with that kind of *ta-ta-ta-ta* \[mimics lighting-fast hi-hat lines]…. **Barata:** Yeah, that’s right. **Luis:** …those kind of feats of strength that you see punk drummers do that I think sort of inspired him, but he takes way beyond—personally, in my opinion. \[…] And a revelation to me is that a possible idea for the next album is that there will be no guitar. It could be just drums and vocals—just to really explore what they can do in that sort of lineup. Which sort of took me by surprise. **Barata:** It’s just that so many people have said that what I play sounds like jazz, has a jazz-like feel to it, so I started listening to it fairly recently. And there were also metal influences, mainly from Slayer’s early albums, Igor Cavalera too, Napalm Death—those more classic bands and everything else. But Cannibal Corpse—I’ve always seen them as an influence, sort of after punk, but they were. Also nowadays—not just nowadays, but over the last 15 or 16 years with Test—it’s always been a band that I’ve thought is very free, you know? So, for example, if I listen to, I don’t know, John Bonham, and he does a fill there that I hear and think is cool, then it’s cool. Just like I said, when we listen to a band, we try to do it our own way—I apply that to the drums, too. It could be something in a samba, or in hard rock, or even in grindcore—whatever I hear or see someone doing, if I think it’s cool, I think about incorporating it into my drumming, but in my own way. I always think, damn, this is cool, how can I…bring this to Test but in my own style of playing the drums—that’s part of it too. **This is probably an off-the-wall reference, but the one that comes to mind is the Dutch drummer Han Bennink. Because one thing that he would do that’s also kind of Test-like—he had a duo with Peter Brotzman where they recorded an album where they went out into the forest and were just playing—like playing logs, doing different things that were completely out. And then in concerts, he’s known for, like, playing the wall, playing chairs. But when you really listen to him, you can tell that he’s so skilled with the basics that he could probably play a phone book and have it sound good, because it’s in his wrists.** **And that reminds me of watching Test. You can see a real drummer because of the way that their wrists move. It’s in the wrists, it’s not in the drum set.** **Barata:** You bet. **And then one other thing—toward the end of the documentary, there’s a part where João is asking this series of questions. Basically, “Why should I have to do all of these things that other people do?” Whether it’s being obsessed with social media or just, basically, you know, “Why should we have to do what everybody else does?” and questioning that. And I guess that’s probably something that’s almost like in your DNA as an artist or musician.** **But I mean, can you say something about where that tendency comes from, to question … whether it’s the way people do things in grindcore or the way people promote themselves as bands? Has that always been part of the way you’ve approached music?** **João:** Yeah, and...I think there are two things that bother me: when bands sound too much like clones of other bands. Lately, I’ve even started thinking, “Well, everyone does what they want, right?” I mean, if the guy is happy that his band sounds identical to another band, well, there’s nothing you can do about it, but it’s a little sad that this is so widely accepted—even by the people running the show, so to speak—festivals, record labels, etc., who are in charge; it seems like they don’t care. They support bands being clones of other bands that have already been successful. This has been happening more and more, and one thing that… What I really don’t like is how bands communicate outside of their music. It’s obvious that their communication is contrived. Like, a band does something and gets a lot of online views, and before you know it, everyone’s doing the same thing, communicating in the exact same way. The way they communicate is very similar, no matter the style—whether it’s pop, a Hollywood actor, a garage band that’s just starting out, or anything else—it seems like communication is changing, but everyone’s doing it exactly the same way. We’ve always been against that; I see someone doing it that way, and I just don’t feel like doing it anymore. **Watching the documentary again, I could almost come away with the idea that somebody here has an art background, went to art school. And that might be the kiss of death to admit if you’re playing grindcore or metal. So maybe we shouldn’t go there.** **But it also got me thinking about how—you know, grindcore and death metal can overlap, but in another sense, grindcore has always had this conceptual/artistic slant to it that would be more out of place in pure death metal. Whether it’s Napalm Death doing one-second songs, or, I don’t know, the way that Discordance Axis does their artwork. There’s an experimentation and “artsiness” to grindcore. I’m just curious if you could say anything about that without, you know, divulging any dark secrets, like, “I went to this art school.” Or are you largely self-taught?** **Barata:** It’s funny that when he started talking about art in grindcore, the first thing that came to mind was exactly “You Suffer” by Napalm Death, which has a second of that. And right after that, he gave that example. But I don’t think so—I mean, regarding this whole art thing, no, João never went to art school, and neither did I. But I think this art aspect has always been present, more so in grindcore than in death metal, even based on the examples he mentioned. And then there’s our scene—just like João said—we’re really lucky to have so many friends, both guys and girls, who are artists, whether they’re into video editing, filming, drawing, or all sorts of different things. So it’s a scene that’s always been a part of our lives. And here in the São Paulo scene—for several years now—it’s not as segmented as it used to be, right? So you see a lot of people who like different styles going to shows of other styles as well. And that—hanging out with these people and seeing their shows—has always influenced us a lot. And also when we realized that people from other genres liked our sound. Sometimes we’d go play at a bar, at a venue that wasn’t even a rock spot a lot of the time. And we’d be like, “Holy s\*\*t, the crowd’s going to be horrified.” But when we played, people loved it. Sometimes people from out of town liked it more than the folks who were already into the music and were there—the ones who didn’t know us. That was one of the things that made us explore and move more in that artistic direction, so to speak. Both the fact that we were always playing for different people and our environment here in São Paulo. **João:** I’ve always noticed that, too—like, that… Especially back in the ’90s, I think, the grind scene absorbed practically everything around it. It’s very different from death metal, which stayed true to that style, or any other style of metal that’s kind of standardized. There’s grind mixed in with everything. There’s even some playful grind that’s mixed with music. There’s some with jazz. I’ve always liked that. I enjoyed discovering it, especially since you guys talked a lot about Mr. Bungle, which has a bit of grind mixed in there. And what Barata mentioned also has a big influence—that we’re always interacting with other mixed artistic styles. And it was something like that—it happened gradually. Before we knew it, we were already playing in a lot of places where it’s not common for heavy bands—grind, death metal—to be, and people appreciate that. That’s one of the coolest things; I think we’ve already achieved that. That’s it—it’s about people having a sense of respect and a willingness to work with us and do things together, even if they aren’t into grind, metal, or anything like that: They think we’re doing something cool and different, and they want to be a part of it. **Okay. And this maybe is the closing question. It seems like in most of the previous episodes, there has been some mention of Mr. Bungle. And I know that it wasn’t too long ago that you played a show opening for them. Was that a special event or just another show or somewhere in between? I don’t know how much of an influence that they might have been at any point.** **João:** For me, personally, they had a huge influence. Like the stuff Trey does, the stuff Mike Patton does, like…I’m a huge fan—their number one fan, really. Fantômas was a band that also had a big influence back then. And it was really crazy, like, the connection we’ve built with Trey now—even with the hope of doing things together in the future, of him being part of…. He actually offered, like, “Oh, I want to be on your album,” stuff like that. And he’s the one who took the heat and got us accepted by the production company here in Brazil, which didn’t want to have the band open the show. So that was really awesome—knowing that the guys watched the show there, that Mike Patton saw it and liked it. I got to talk to Mike Patton for a minute, too, and I said, “Hey, why don’t you put out a demo on Ipecac? We’re just two nobodies here with no label, nothing.” We kind of built a little connection with him, but we actually got closer to Trey himself. **Barata:** That wasn’t just any concert for us; it was just like João said—he’s a huge fan of what they do and all that. For us, it was a huge event—both because of the band and because of the number of people who were there watching; the show was sold out. Even the venue itself was a milestone for us; that concert was one of the band’s defining moments. **João:** And also because of the kind of audience Mr. Bungle attracts, right? It’s an audience that’s already into craziness for its own sake. And not everyone there knew us—even though we do a lot of things here, it was still a surprise to a lot of people there. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit fatalstrategies.substack.com