You Decide by Colin O’Sullivan

Lee, drummer

The band, as you may well know, was called Encomium, we thought the moniker optimistic, and the first EP, which you may not know as it sold very few copies, was called We Are Of Course Being Facetious. People called us pretentious from the offset, saying we were pale imitations of the Smashing Pumpkins, but Walter expected all that, was prepared to hear a lot of rubbish and thought he knew how to handle the press, handle our image and overcome all obstacles. We were all educated, not some low-life junkies you’d meet in a toilet somewhere shooting up while trying to learn three chords. We were bright, innovative and talented, I don’t mind saying it. Walter said we didn’t need a manager at the time, thought we could handle it all ourselves. That was maybe a mistake. We were bright, like I said, full of ambition, but you can only juggle so much. We had no idea what would happen, what could go wrong, accidents happen. There were people ready and willing to take us on and push us forward, but Walter had his own ideas and wanted to burn bright, for a short time and then explode, though we never knew if that explosion meant propulsion into the big time, or just go splat all over the walls. Well, you know which way it went for us, unfortunately.

Rick, guitar

I knew Walter since we were in kindergarten, so yeah, I suppose I knew him better than anyone. And no, he never went in for that satanic stuff as a kid, I mean sure he read a few Clive Barker books, but that was as far as it went. We all read those kinds of books then, it was de riguer for a while, Alister Crowley too, that kind of vibe. Not that we were Goths, nothing like that, just you know, it’s cool for kids to like the dark stuff. When we started to play were just kids really, early twenties, ready for a good time.

Lee

Walter hid a lot of stuff from Rick. So Rick didn’t know all that was going on. Walter and he were too close, like brothers; it would hurt Rick to know what was going on, what was really going on. The press weren’t so far off the mark with the satanic stuff as it happened. And no, no I don’t want to go into it right now. But yeah, the press doesn’t always need to be castigated in this country; sometimes they aren’t far off the mark.

Jimmy, bass

I did coke, sure. We all did. Walter and I had problems with it for a time sure, yeah. But when I first got into doing lines with Fred (Parkz, vocalist with Pantophobia) I went down the path alone, to say that I pushed Walter into anything was ridiculous. You all saw him, saw him on TV and in magazines, did Walter ever look unsure of himself, ever look like he would be cajoled into anything? If he wanted something he’d take it, didn’t need any pushing. He was cocksure, sure, yeah.

I knew him from Art school. We have the same rock story as any other band, Pulp, R.E.M, or any other that met in art school, started playing in dad’s basement, got a few school gigs, cut a record, and tried to make it big. Of course R.E.M. and those did make it big, obviously, we went bust, but you can’t blame it all on Walter, if he wanted out…well, he made his own decisions like I said.

Sarah, girlfriend, author of “A Debunking of the Myths surrounding Walter Tear”

It all started to go wrong after the first album, Ersatz, hit the shelves. Walter had become something of a cult figure, the weird antics and so on appealed to young nihilistic people. Kids even started to change their names to be like him; soon there were Alfreds and Georges around, kids calling themselves Fred Burn or Albert Stain, or Stan Stab to have a name just like Walt. They wanted a first old-man name, and a violent/provocative last. Max Maim. Geoff Grate. No one knew whether to pronounce his name “tear” as in the liquid that falls from your eyes, or “tear” as in what you do to a piece of paper, or record contract, he liked to keep his audience guessing, and in interviews, when asked, he’d say “you decide.” He said that all the time. If a journo asked, about a forthcoming album (The Bereft, never finished) he’d just say that: “you decide.” It was that kind of insouciant, languid approach that he favored and won him respect. And all of us had the vocabulary too, we knew how to put journos in a spin, we were all educated, so what happened, what happened and what went …what caused outrage or bewilderment, and I know some say that it was orchestrated and that Walter knew what he was doing right up to the end, well…others say he didn’t mean to go that far and that it was an accident, that he never meant it. What do I think? You decide.

You know of course that they even started to print those words on T-shirts and thousands of kids would show up to gigs wearing those words on their chests, an ocean of you decides all over the place. Just another gimmick, or message? You…

Rick

It was an accident. Whatever that bitch tells you is a lie. It was an accident. She was wrong for him from the beginning. It was all an accident. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was all her idea. She’s got a book out now you know.

Lee

That day started out like any other. We had a gig that night and TV cameras were going to be rolling there. Jimmy was high but what else was new and fuck him if he thinks he’s gonna see any more of the royalties. It was a birthday bash for some record company exec or something and we were to play along with a few other bands. We were not that high on the list, but not that low either, middling, so much of our story could be summed up in that word, middling.

Sarah

Walter had seemed nervous before the gig, even at the soundcheck he sounded a bit off. But no one took any notice, knew that when it came to it he’d be on fire on stage as he always was, gyrating like he did, whisking the crowd into a frenzy.

Lee

We were the fourth band to go on, or maybe third. I can’t remember – it’s been a while. The kids were there, what ones were let in to this private bash, T-shirts with you decide everywhere. As a joke Walt said he was gonna wear a T-shirt saying I decide, that he was like an author, a storyteller not giving away the ending, like one of those books you had as a kid that had several endings and you got to choose which way you wanted to go, which page you wanted to turn to, but he didn’t wear it, he wore the same black T as the kids, you decide, you decide.

Sarah

The kids started to chant it: youdecideyoudecideyoudecide! And that’s when it happened.

Rick

It was no accident.

Lee

We were two, no, three songs into the set when it happened.

Colin O’Sullivan is an Irish writer living in Japan. His collection of short stories, Anhedonia, and his short novel for teenagers, Majo, are available from Rain Publishing, Canada.