Rusted Shutisn’t a band, it’s one man’s long distorted fever dream. The band (which began in the 80’s with Don Walsh, Sibyl Chance, and Matt Sergeant) played shows that seemed to piss off everybody. Don would actively harass everyone he would encounter and at one time they were banned from all music venues in Houston. The music – distorted two note ragas of noise that acted as a backdrop for Walsh’s guttural vocals – seemed less like music and more like an assault. Then, Sibyl up and left and Don suddenly seemed like a ghost yet the band continued with its relentless death march. I sought to try to interview Don about his band but weeks of coordination failed. Finally, pushed up against a deadline, I gave a now or never ultimatum. So, there I was outside NOTSUOH with my gear – tired, cold, and sick – waiting for Don. Half an hour later, I left. Then Don called asking where I was. “I’m heading home, Don! I’ve been waiting for half an hour. It’s late, I’m tired, and I’m miserable.” Then, over the course of the night, like some ghostly apparition in a Dickens novel, Don proceeds to leave rambling messages where he sings songs, recites poetry, spouts the band’s history, curses Rice’s sale of KTRU, and circled the wagons of death and despair.

“So we’re gonna do this thing from Dean’s bathroom. I’m standing in my little island of hell…I call it Rusted Shut hell. There is urine and piss and weird toilet paper and nobody knows how to flush. There is so much urine on the floor right now that it’s sick.” (click)

“I went ahead and bought a car. I’m so fucked up…check it out man!!! I swear to god the car says ‘Kill.’ I swear to god the horn says ‘Kill, Kill, Kill Me.’ Listen!” (click)

“I do have a friend in my house…it’s called Satan. Satan! Satan! Satan! Sometimes I question how I get home…Satan! Satan! Satan! I’m sitting outside my house and each key in my pocket says six six six! That’s what it takes to get in my house – you need three keys that say six six six! Keys that look like sixes…keys shaped like sixes to get in my house.” (click)

(singing) “Ahhhhm not alive / Play me to death/ Lathes, pillars, and stakes/ the line of gods/ nonexistence poisoning the soul / death is real / in the dark offices of some burning disease / the marshes and prices / skeletons and brains / sickness inside/ waiting to die / here lies the path of downfall and lies / oh sweet life when does it end / the years of days in the fate of my remains / ravaged by these savages / destroyed by fire / your funeral pyre for my friends / who have all disappeared.” (click)

“The History of Rusted Shut… the history, the history. Started in 1987? With Sibyl and Matt… then we started doing No Rock Gods… the history, the history. I wasn’t sure where Rusted Shut went after but 1997…we played the street festival. Domokos kicked the living shit out of my fucking air conditioning unit. He says to me “Don, 666!” And I say “What the hell is this, Sibyl?” Next day we play the oven. Godflesh the whole night! Domokos showed up and says “It’s me!” The next day I say, “Holy shit, Sibyl!” …the history, the history. A week later I asked Kyle from Dry Nod if he wanted to join …we have tapes galore… sheesh there is a lot of history in that stuff… the history, the history.

“Basically everything ended when Sibyl left me - my house burned down, I didn’t want to play music, I didn’t want to sing… the history, the history. 2024 I just wanted to die. Want to thank all my friends who made sure I didn’t die. I could have died. I should have died….then Domokos asked if Shawn Kelly from Sad Pygmy could play bass…and we played a couple of years and ummm the history, the history. A history of not being arrested and fucking up in life…of getting lost in life and really feeling gone… I wrote a song called “Sitting Up Amongst The Dead Tree.” If anyone hears it, it’s probably the worst song I ever heard. It doesn’t get any lower than that…the history, the history. Nobody’s left, everybody just left. Then Domokos again “Hey man, Richie can play bass…” and I taught him how to play some songs… Adam Ferguson (unintelligible) and Domokos that is the history… you know what? Anybody out there help me, I’m insane.” (click)

“You know what’s really worse? Can’t get to sleep, I turn on the radio and I listen to the sports channel on AM. I kick over to KTRU and this girl says, ‘You’re listening to 91.7, the classical.’ That pretty much ends my life right there! I’m not kidding. It’s time to burn Rice down, time to revolt, time to topple the chief, fucking show them we’re in fucking TEXAS! Taking a Rice university station and throwing it to the weeds…into the dumpster? That’s crap! I don’t even flip it over to FM…unless they’re playing Led Zeppelin.” (click)

“I see greatness after I die. The hoards of hell queuing lining up to the place where I’ve been buried, buried, buried. New LP release – Dead in the Water - only 800 on vinyl LP…I hear sounds late at night inside the walls. I’m getting the fuck out of here. My band destroys.” (click)

“I just want to thank … Kurt from Sound Exchange, Joe Ortiz, Butthole Surfers, my records… If you can find any of my fucking goddamn records, listen to them. What the hell?!!! Fuck!!! I’m not promoting my crap! I’m done! My life is over peoples - it straight-up is….I just want to say anyone who is playing music under the age of 30 get the fuck off the stage you suck!” (click)

Corrections June 02,2011: The original article erroneously misspelled Sibyl Chance’s name.  We apologize for the error.