In the Beginning, There Was Puke

And it was colored purple.

The independent record label known as Purple Puke Music (PPM) was born in East Flushing. East Flushing as in New York, not Missouri (or any other state blessed with such a colorful town name as “Flushing”). The town of East Flushing is located in the borough of Queens, which is one five areas that make up the glorious vista known as New York City.

East Flushing is — or rather, was, seeing how most of the people mentioned on this site who are from East Flushing have since moved on — the stampin’ grounds of many a member of the PPM team. It was here that society molded our heroes of sonics — the bars and cars and playground parks; the drive-thrus and mini-malls and round-the-clock convenience stores; grammar schools, high schools, and colleges; basements and b-ball courts and cracks in the pavement. Plenty of bullshit and plenty of beauty.

In terms of the latter: Although there are times when you feel as if the airport is right next door, we can be thankful for the distinct lack of movie theaters featuring midnight screenings of The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

As for the former: The No. 7 train. Enough said.

Now back to kickin’ the historical shit...

The label has a roster of acts to its credit that includes Abattoir Buggery, Pudtug, and the seminal art-rock punk act, Föetal Demise. And it was this last band that jump-started the PPM saga.

In the same way that Christopher Guest, Michael McKean, and Harry Shearer achieved moderate success with the fictional band Spinal Tap, so too did we expect to amuse ourselves — and anyone else willing to listen — with our own bogus musical group, at first called Fetal Demise (for more on that, see the F.d. entry).

But then something weird happened, for the joke turned into somewhat of a hobby. The three of us — Ed, Ian, and Chris — started writing lyrics — lyrics that were meant to capture our collective imaginations and/or gross-out one another, but they would soon turn into something much more than the fulfillment of some scatological joke.

As for the label’s actual name, it is believed that someone once made the observation that he had never seen, nor expelled, purple-coloured vomit, aka puke. The leap to naming an independent music label after such an observation was a short one, and obvious to boot (ha ha, no pun intended).

From there, rough demos were cut, instruments were bought or borrowed, and music started to seep out of our fingers.

Interest in the hobby waned for some, burned for others, and lured some folks toward the commotion. Regardless, the passion still burns to create music.

And now, here you are to hear it. Please let us know what you think.