Cloth: Oh no problem Bianca, who doesn't like to talk about themselves ha ha!

Cloth:there's time for shyness, sure.

Cloth: I was born in the maternity ward of The Clinton Correctional Facility For Women on Christmas Day 1970 in Hunterdon County, New Jersey. After they took me away from my teen age mother and branded me I was given to a family of itinerant tinkers. They trained me to sing and dance for pennies outside of bars, which prepared me emotionally and physically for life in a band.

Cloth: I can't think of any other experience that would.

Cloth: no, no. I just followed him around for a time. I doubt he ever remembered my name but he got me backstage once or twice which i think is probably the story you're referring to as i've seen it floating around in various forms. I'd tell it again but thinking about that evening it's not the salacious details that spring to mind. What I remember most about that evening so many years later (and indeed find it hard to recall the second woman's name-Amy maybe?) is one of Jay's encores he played alone on the piano. I'd never heard the song before or since and it was really just a slow blues vamp, describing heart ache and unfaithfulness. It was New Year's Eve and Jay had been playing with breaks for over 4 hours. He was clearly tired and the tempo faltered. The older black ladies dressed in sunday best on the side of the stage who I assumed were wives or girlfriends of the band members looked concerned and held their hands to their face or breast. Jay hit one last chord on the piano closed his eyes sighed and sang "you can go straight to hell" so sadly. The lights went out and he went backstage. It was 3 in the morning of a brand new year.

Cloth: Well Bianc, it was in Barcelona from a friend of a friend named Colinda who seemed to know way too much about me. I glanced disapprovingly at the girls in my band, who talk. "Jack," Colinda said to me, The sun was coming up. "You should give it up Jack. You should conquer this urge of yours to control. It can only lead to damage and destruction. It can lead only to decay."

everyone moved away to fight over sleeping arrangements. I stared at the sea and we held hands for a while.

Cloth: oh yes, it was just a friendly gesture. She could tell i was having a rough tour.

Cloth: That's a good one. It was: "So you took this job, rude boy, because they don't do urine testing, yeah?" This came from a jamaican fella I was working with on a movie set who asked me if i wanted to smoke pot with him after i said I didn't smoke pot but enjoyed just about every other drug, none of which he had. i hung out with him as he smoked and lectured that the drugs i like are bad for me because they are synthetic while ganga is natural. It was a little boring but he was way less annoying than most actors and those film shoots last at least half a day with nothing to do but stand around.

Cloth: oh, i'd rather not talk about that if you don't mind Bianca. It's just a job.

Cloth: oh, It is hard not to read the reviews but always a terrible idea. I mean if believe the good ones then you have to give the bad ones credence. Still of course i give in sometimes. I thought Mark Leyner had a point when he wrote in The Jersey Journal about a month ago ". . . Although World/Inferno claim to abide by a stern idealistic protocol, this gang when viewed from a certain perspective can seem like harebrained cartoon characters lurching haphazardly from one debacle to another motivated as much by mischievousness and perversity as anything resembling intent or design."

Like he should talk. oh well.

Cloth: You're right Bianca.

Cloth: [pause] um, "Bankrobber, fly me to the moon."

Cloth: a few weeks ago while I was being morbid over smokestacks during a drive through Poland. They turned out to be nuclear cooling stacks. right again but in a very different way, both depressing.

Cloth: Well, I'm sure I've had a lot of cringe worthy moments I've chosen not to remember- whole relationships! But the one that always gets me is i met a guy in a bar one late night who said his name was 'Justice' and i thought oh man this is not going to end well. I was talking to a girl who was trying to convince herself that having an affair was ok and i thought man this is not going to end well. The bartender offered to buy us all shots and i thought oh what the hell. Justice stared at us and shook his head. I didn't get his point at the time but eventually Justice got me. It took a couple years anyway.

Cloth: i've already said too much.

Cloth: i try and stay absolutely still until it is time to get back in the van.

Cloth: no, i actually find it quite rewarding.

Cloth: Oh, I enjoy the simple pleasures in Life; sharing a warm bed on cold night, hospital grade morphine analogue stolen from a co-worker's desk, cloudy days, a pint of vodka and orange juice with one quarter club soda on ice with a twist of lime for breakfast, a good book one can't put down and is small enough to take on the subway, the week of well deserved rest after a long tour before i have to get back to work again. just like anybody. Oh and cocktail onions! it always makes me happy when a bar has cocktail onions. I've even donated a jar to one of my Locals occasionally ( i have two). Turns out later the bartender took them home and made an omelet with them, c'est la vie.

Cloth: yes, the next time i went to that bar and asked for a Gibson ,which is a martini with cocktail onions instead of olives by the way-

Cloth: Oh sorry, well the next time i asked for one the bartender described the omelet. The onions, peppers, ham and brie cheese.

Cloth: does right? but i'll never know. I think she was gloating. If you haven't, you should really be sure to check out conversationswithbianca.com