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With a sound as gentle as the rolling suburban Louisville hills that borne them, Lydian formed in 2002 and soon carved a niche out of the supple, tender flesh of the local music scene.
It is unknown who came up with the name Lydian, although it is suggested it was borrowed from the Latin "Lydius," which roughly translated means the mixture of feces, blood, lube and ejaculate that oozes out of the anus following a successful act of anal sex. According to Band Historian Jimmy Polivka, "It referred to both the quality of the music, and the act of listening to said music."
Displaying their contempt for their fans, and the public at large, Lydian rarely performed for an audience, instead preferring to play in Guitarist Nathan Denny's basement, stroking their collective...egos with the fact that they were in a band, and how the people just didn't, like, get them, man.
Using Mom and Dad's money in true spoiled suburban shit fashion, Lydian shat out a record, or "Compact Disc" in the parlance of the generation, that was quickly disseminated to the populace much like an aerosol form of Anthrax...or perhaps Sarin Nerve Gas, but Sarin Nerve Gas is already an Aerosol, hence the word "gas" in its name, so that's kind of redundant. Either way you're fucking dead so there's no use in splitting hairs now is there?
Anyway...the CD was awesome, and to this day the mere mention of it causes looks of disgust from the living members of the band, similar to the feeling of stepping in dog shit out in your yard...in bare feet. There's the second of contemplation, before the gravity of the situation strikes, and then...yeah, you know the look. What I'm trying to say is if you want to piss any of these assholes off, mention how much you love the music.
Lydian's laid-back college stoner band sound belied its member's hardcore drug addiction(s), random acts of horrific violence and unquenchable thirst for the most perverse and unspeakable sexual fetishes. It would be these habits, in fact, that led to the band's dissolution amid a Grand Jury investigation into the trafficking of underage Southern Indiana pygmy sex slaves with Klinefelter syndrome...and their dogs. Their Cocaine-filled dogs. Which were broken open like piñatas.
Nathan Denny is currently living under an assumed name in Thailand, where he instructs young, plump schoolchildren in the ways of the English language.
Greg Drury has made a name for himself in the world of adult cinematic entertainment. His stage name is Toledo Twister, and he can be seen nightly in the booths behind the curtain at Priscilla's of Hurstborne Parkway.
Stanley Brooks contracted the Syph from one of the Southern Indiana Pygmys with Klinefelter syndrome, and died as he lived...screaming in agony as his P-Dude rotted off. He is survived by two very hot sisters and an equally hot dog, a Terrier named Pickles.
Russell Smith traveled to New Orleans to assist with the Hurricane Katrina clean-up, in the hopes he would discover a corpse not previously collected by the authorities, for (and I quote here) "a play date." He was found by a Fox News crew in the area filming a piece on how much it sucks to be poor and black, and was hired on the spot. He is now the co-host of the successful news and commentary program "You know what? Fuck your Theory!" with Tucker Carlson.
If you read all of this...you're even more pathetic than the douchebag that wrote it.
Matthew William Jolley |
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