I’m currently submerged in the happiest period of my life. Everything recently – Christmas, New Years (which I normally despise), damn near every minute – went phenomenally. Most recently, Jan. 1 and 2 probably made up the best two-day period of my life. Last year was the best year of my life, and I think this year already trumped it in the first 48 hours. And yes, I am annoyingly chipper in the morning and was president of the swing choir in high school.

When I’m feeling good, I love to give gifts. But I asked myself, instead of just going out and buying something expensive for my wonderful girl or my mom or something, might I give a gift the whole world can enjoy? What one thing could I possibly give the world that would spread laughter and joy, improve the self-esteem of everybody that came in contact with it AND allow everyone to give it away all they want and only have feel better about it? No, it’s not love. It’s way, way funnier at its best and even more painful at its worst.

What’s The Quam Demo, you ask? It’s a self-made musical atrocity by this guy Brother R and I know from school, Quam (it ain’t just a U.S. occupied territory, friends). But it’s much more than that. It’s the single most potent running joke ever. I swear, it could keep Jay Leno in business for another 20 years all on its own. We’ve been consistently cracking up at the mere mention, much less listen, of The Quam Demo for creeping up on a decade. It never gets any less funny. The reason why is two-fold.

Fold one: It really, really sucks. You could put 1,000 Morrisseys in a room for 1,000 years and they couldn’t duplicate how much this demo hurts. The music and lyrics are terminally, laughably bad. It’s just one no-talent boner with 1) a guitar inexplicably tuned to sound like a kazoo, 2) a computer with the free demo version of Fruity Loops and 3) a whole lot of hilariously misguided teenage angst. It’s the perfect storm of incompetence – the musical equivalent of the Wicker Man remake.

Lyrically, Quam empties his musical bowels on such diverse topics as his oppressive mother, being suffocated by his oppressive mother, being at odds with an oppressive society that reminds him of his mother, the struggles middle class white people in all-white, non-threatening rural communities face, and his oppressive mother.

Now, for the first time ever, the lyrics of The Quam Demo have been transcribed, lovingly, for you. And I sincerely hope you appreciate it – I had to listen to it over … and over ... and over again trying to decipher the more incomprehensible parts. Some people suffer for their art. I suffer to make fun of peoples’ art.

Fold two: Quam thinks he is really, really awesome. Before you go off and say, “How can you make fun of a friend’s DIY demo in front of the entire world,” you have to understand how adding arrogance to suckiness changes the whole formula. Stick with me here.

Imagine a friend hands you a homemade demo and says something like, “Can you listen to my demo and give me some honest feedback? I know it needs a lot of work, but I think you might like some parts of it. I really trust you and know you’ll tell me what you really think.” So you listen to it and it sucks big-time. How would you handle it? If you’re like me, you’d try to be nice, point out some highlights, and try to be as constructive as possible. You definitely wouldn’t broadcast it to the world with instructions reading “Step 1: Point; Step 2: Laugh; Step 3: Share with everyone you know.”

Now, imagine that friends describes himself as “God’s chosen son” … “sent to save the world through my music,” and he hands you a demo that, well, sucks big-time. Imagine that same friend (Who, by the way, has claimed to see demons riding on top of the cars of the wicked … go ahead and have a quick laugh at the emotional problems of God’s chosen son … and by the way, what does that imply? Does that mean he thinks he’s Jesus, or that Jesus never existed and that he is truly God’s only son, or that he is Jesus’ brother and God likes him better?) proclaims he will fill the voids left by the break-ups of Alice in Chains and Stabbing Westward. Imagine that person describes his sound as “Tool with [Filter’s] Richard Patrick on vocals.” And he hands you THIS demo … wait for it, wait for it.

It’s this once-in-a-lifetime combination of cocksureness and impotence that makes The Quam Demo and its ginger kid auteur ripe for the ripping. And, in case you were wondering, The Quam Demo is only a nugget of the Quam legend. Sadly, I’m not even the best person to impart the whole story to you, as, with the exception of a month-long period when we had girlfriends who were friends, we didn’t talk much. He also has other demos, but they’ve sadly been lost – none were as hilarious as this one, though. (There was one where he techno-remixed the Mortal Kombat soundtrack – somehow, it took us months to dub this “Mortal Quambat”, which in hindsight is totally obvious – and a 16-song shitfest, which my buddy Peshak blew his nose on and bounced off the highway while we were driving to pick up a pizza.)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is where I originally shared some of my favorite Quam stories. But I read them over and felt so mean, I chopped ‘em. Right, I know, what a puss. But deep down, I like Quam, and I think it would be awesome if this demo got into the hands of a record producer who promptly signed Quam to a lucrative five-record deal. I would feel really good about that because The Quam Demo has given me so much joy, shouldn’t the man get his? Plus he’s ginger and lived in a house with all-pink interior, so hasn’t he had it hard enough?

Because the Quam story has a happy ending, you can laugh at his demo guilt-free. A few years back, Quam met some girl on the Internet and moved to wherever she lives. She comes from a rich family, so he’s vicariously rich now. He’s been to Japan even – all on her till. Plus, in an unforeseen twist, I met the girl, and if memory serves she’s reasonable to look at. Anyway, I think they’re married or going to get married. Right now, I bet he’s laughing at me, sitting here working two jobs and sharing a house with some guys, while he cruises around the Indian Ocean on a private yacht. He’s married and rich; I’m poor and not nearly as married as I’d like to be right now. But to bring it back around, here’s what I said to a friend when she indicated she was jealous of Quam falling ass-backwards onto easy street: Sure, he’s married and rich without doing a damn thing, but he’s married to someone who would marry Quam. That, friends, says it all. And I’m sure you’ll agree after hearing his demo.

(DISCLAIMER: There will be no refunds given for the next half-hour of your life, and the Tomb of Anubis will not be legally responsible for ruptured eardrums, spontaneously combusting parakeets or queer looks from on-lookers who think you like this kind of music.)

Note: I don’t know the song titles. It’s not hard to venture a guess on most of them, but Quam could be like Billy Corgan or Morrissey and give fancy song titles to songs with ordinary content. Rather than me making up funny joke titles for you, go ahead-on and make them up yourself. It’s fun!

Emptiness fills me in Tells me when to begin You annoy me inside Like a tick that pops through my life

When you gonna get from me ? When you gonna let me bleed?

You keep sucking in Take back and [your guess is as good as mine] Lies to make this candle burn Hate you when you disown

CHORUS All I have is hate for you

My life is a turn Barging into discern All the beginnings, all my ends Tell me when the biggest cup of me wins

Like snow go I feel so cold Ice down my head You make me feel so very dead

FIST NOTES: Uncompromisingly bad from the start, The Quam Demo jumps on your nuts from the first chord and does the Monkey Hustle all over them. “Emptiness fills me in,” while not inherently awful (the concept of emptiness having a filling quality can be heard on 1,000 other songs, most notably Metallica’s awesome Fade to Black), has become the demo’s shitty signature, mostly due to its dippy cadence. Though we’ll never know for sure until Quam does VH1’s “Storytellers”, this is in all likelihood the first of several songs about his mom. This is a song not even a mother could love. You, just sit back and count all the hilarious ways Quam butchers his already laughable lyrics with bad vocals.

For a fun little game, have a contest with a friend to see all the different ways you can make fun of the chorus lyric. “All I have is one red shoe.” “All I have is Fu-Manchu.” If you can beat Brother R’s “Lucy, you got some ‘splainin’ to do,” you get the prize.

It’s questionable, my sanity I’m being locked up here It’s questionable, my sanity In this padded room Think I’ll be safe in this darkened room? Think I’ll be safe from myself? You’re so cruel to me, that’s why …

I’m breaking, breaking, breaking out of you Break loose

It’s undermined what I think, what I do It’s undefined, what I try When I break loose, what do you mean? I’m not myself, I’m what I think What will you call a state of mind? It’s my life You’re so cruel to me

Chorus

Say you can’t judge a book by its cover? I beg to differ Look at myself and I know who I am But you won’t accept me I’ve never seen a person who couldn’t take the pain I’ve never seen a person who can take criticism

Chorus

FIST NOTES: Parents, see what happens when you ground your kid? He grows up to make a shitty emo song about it. Either that, or this could be a first-person potboiler about a fetus who can hear through the womb that it’s about to be aborted and screaming for the right to live in a post-modern world. But probably the first one. And by the way, if my son ever makes a demo like this, he will be severely punished.

So far, you’ve heard two songs of The Quam Demo. Think you can’t call a demo the worst piece of atonal garbage ever? I beg to differ.

People say there’s something dying inside each one of us People say there’s something that grabs a hold of your life Never be the same

I don’t want to be like that I never want to change Never want to see anyone like that I don’t want the world to change me

So what can I do? What can I do?

Chorus I do what I can Not to let myself change

So there’s so much you can say to yourself Before you say you’re wrong There’s only so much self-pity that you can handle

I don’t want to be like that Tell me a way if I start to fade Tell me a way if I get dazed

FIST NOTES: You get the feeling Quam tripped over his plugged-in guitar one night and said, “That’s it. That’s the main chord for my big power ballad.” Seriously, if your song can be played while holding a sandwich in one hand and using your penis as a pick, you should go down a level or two on Guitar Hero. I love the lyric, “There’s only so much self-pit that you can handle.” Wouldn’t it be awesome if Quam and Morrissey recorded a duet and just traded that lyric back and forth until the U.S. government commissioned the release of Varg Vikernes to come over from Norway (he’s going to escape anyway, folks), hack them both up and burn the studio down. I think that would be a great script for a Masters of Horror episode.

People closing in I can’t hold myself to this Society closing in I can’t hold myself to be this

You say hold your breath, I really can’t I need some space You say take it down, I say put it out I need space

Chorus Back off, you’re suffocating me Back off, I can’t breathe

Lifetime locked up by myself I can’t handle all these People surrounding me I’d rather be in a cage and locked away from everything By myself, all alone To no one else when I know I need some space, let me out Give me room for doubt

Chorus

You can a gun I can’t be won From you other people Now leave me be

Back off

FIST NOTES: Friends, this song is so spectacularly awful, it speaks for itself. You don’t need any smartass comments from me to relish this one. Any good reporter can tell you, you just get out of the way of some material – you can’t make it any stronger, no matter what you do. So back off.

This is your problem, among many others This is your faultline, other than mine I try to tell you what you can’t do But you’re so dense and annoying, I don’t want to

What can I say? What can I do? To make you change If you don’t want, that’s OK I just won’t hang around you Because I can’t stand your company What there is of it is so cheesy

Chorus I want to break you down

I don’t take this very light What you do every single night You make everyone run fast You don’t think you’ll ever last In the same place for more than 13 seconds

Maybe that’s because everyone despises you That and every other thing that you do

Everyone despises you And everything you’re gonna do

I want to break you down No, I won’t go around I want to break you down

FIST NOTES: Unlike everything on the demo so far, it doesn’t feel like this one is about Quam’s mom. Therefore, it’s semi-intriguing to wonder just who inspired this searing indictment from arguably the most annoying person on the planet. Whoever it is, no kettle has been called black from a blacker, moldier, more food-encrusted pot before in the history of human civilization.

Though it’s probably the most unremarkable song on The Quam Demo, you actually just listened to a highly sought-after gem. No, really. For the longest time this song was unavailable due to CD scratches. Actually, it’s been about four years since this song was available in working fashion after my then-girlfriend broke my best copy (I guess I should have listened when she told me she’d break the fucker in half if she ever heard it again – and yes, “my best copy” does imply that I’ve had and still do have multiple, unique copies of this, thank you very much). But recently this copy was excavated, and The Quam Demo is whole once more. Aren’t you just thrilled?

I grew up thinking, had a right And no one could take them away I grew older, I was wondering Why my rights were taken away

Give me some truth Don’t give me these lies I want my freedom and liberty Why am I denied?

Chorus There’s no freedom There’s no liberty There’s only oppression for you and me

We can fight for what we deserve We work and pay everyday What can you try to provide some defense? That doesn’t protect us from you That doesn’t keep us from your derogative

Chorus

FIST NOTES: Ladies and gentlemen, the single gayest chorus ever committed to tape. As laughable as this is today, just consider that it was written in a pre-911 landscape, which was even less oppressed (remember, we live in lily-white rural Iowa). Seriously, though, I’d be the first to admit that political outrage has its place in music, but Quam is perhaps the least-qualified person to rage against the machine.

Consider this: Quam received a free education from a reputable community college (where his mom works), worked at Wal-Mart and drove a Ford Taurus – and this douchebag thinks he’s qualified to hold high the torch for the downtrodden? If he (or I or anybody I know) was actually to live in a true state of oppression for a single day, he’d probably blow the ginger right off his own head with a revolver.

Of course, now that the government has actually given us a surplus of travesties to be pissed off about, I’d love to hear Quam re-do this song. Knowing him – he sucks any way the wind blows – he’s probably quite comfortable in his lofty new tax bracket and would change the lyrics to advocate tax cuts for the wealthy, keeping health care private, Reaganomics and Fred Thompson. After all, what kind of oppression is worse than having to help take care of people who will never have it as good as you no matter how hard they work?

Oh, and the beginning and end of this song feature a Skee-Lo sample, which I’m sure Quam thought was hilarious. I’ll give you a minute to catch your breath from laughing so hard. And bonus points to Quam for looping himself at the end. I don’t even think Moby would be that lame.

You know those times When you feel lost You know those times When you feel like a wall

So empty, so hopeless, full of [edited for your protection] So lousy, so many times like this If so, breathe All you need is to breathe

Chorus I’m running on empty I’ve got nowhere to go I’m running on empty Life is going so ffff…ing slow

I drug myself with causing boredom I drug myself with causing pain I can’t relate to your situation Can you relate to mine?

Doesn’t seem like I taught myself too much Doesn’t seem like a bed You can’t believe your expression Now you make a fist

I’m running on empty I’ve got nowhere to go I’m running on empty It’s so slow

I’m running on empty I’ve got nowhere to go I’m running on empty My life is so ffff…ing slow

FIST NOTES: I can totally appreciate if you don’t want to use the “fuck” word in your music, but why would you write a few of them into your song and then censor yourself? And just because I’m confused and you might be able to help, why would you be running on empty if life is too slow for you? Wouldn’t your engine be flooded or something like that? This is the most sophisticated knowledge I have of automobiles.

I never thought I’d pine for a Jackson Browne song, but there you go. But as much as it pains me to admit this, this song, while still god-awful, does seem to resemble an actual song. I don’t know how to feel about that.

So, the review was all written and the tracks were ready to go, but one question had to be answered before I could hit "Send". Who the hell am I, he of absolutely zero musical talent, to rip on someone else's demo?

Of course, using the same logic, you could argue that I have no right to criticize shitty movies because I've never made a movie before. Here's my answer to both:

In one hand, you have a little old lady, completely comatose. She never speaks, never moves and hasn't communicated or done anything without the help of machines for 30 years. She doesn't mean anything to anyone. She would probably want to die if she was awake long enough to know where she was.

In the other, you have Adolph Hitler - ambitious, articulate, passionate, great mustache. Oh, yeah, but he caused the deaths of countless innocents and injected a whole lot of misery into the world.

Who is a better person? Thank you for proving my point. By having no talent but not committing any acts of musical malice, I am more of a credit to the musical landscape than Quam - or Moby, or Toby Keith, or My Chemical Romance, or Justin Timberlake (I just found out who that is), or Matchbox 20, or ...

That, friends, makes me a superior officer in the KISS Army to all of them. Now, troops, we set our righteous sights on the Quam Demo. Gentlemen, destroy.

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