For their 30th anniversary, The Residents collected live footage from their tours on a new 90-minute DVD. Titled Live! ...on the Outskirts, the DVD is also included in the box set Kettles of Fish on the Outskirts of Town.

Kettles of Fish does not contain any full shows, but it does feature the best existing footage from The Residents' tours. As an extra bonus, it also contains Ty's Freak Show and two numbers from the Prague musical production of Freak Show Live. As with the Icky Flix DVD, there are many Easter Eggs to find as well. In addition to the live video, the DVD contains photos, web links, and other tour-related information.

The Kettles box set also included three CDs of live material, with the first two covering the first six major tours and the third containing material from non-touring performances.

DVD

• Mole Show
  • Secret Seed
  • The Observer


• The 13th Anniversary Show
  • Cry for the Fire
  • Man's World


• Cube-E
  • From the Plains to Mexico
  • Bury Me Not


• Wormwood
  • How to Get a Head
  • Dinah and the Unclean Skin
  • Fire Fall


• Icky Flix
  • Man's World
  • Constantinople
  • One Minute Movies
  • Burn Baby Burn
  • Benny the Bouncing Bump
  • Bridegroom of Blood


• Deviations
  • Ty's Freak Show
  • Freak Show Live - Introduction
  • Freak Show Live - Herman

CD: The Mole Show '82, The 13th Anniversary Show '86, Cube E '89

• Penn Jillette's Greeting
• Marching To The Sea
• Mole Show (end of Act 1)
• Happy Home
• Rich Shupe's Intro
• Hello Skinny
• Picnic In The Jungle
• Monkey And Bunny
• Walter Westinghouse
• Intro by David Sanbourne
• Buckaroo Blues/The Stampede
• Black Barry/Engine 44/Voodoo Queen
• Shorty and Shirley

CD: Disfigured Night '97, Wormwood '99, Icky Flix '01

• Disfigured Night Intro
• Disfigured Night (excerpt 1)
• Disfigured Night (excerpt 2)
• Wormwood (opening)
• I Hate Heaven
• Hanging By His Hair
• Mr. Misery
• Judas Saves
• Old Time Religion
• Icky Flix Theme
• The Gingerbread Man
• Just For You
• Buckaroo Blues Theme

CD: One Night Stands (rare & unreleased)

• Live Intro
• American Band Story
• Forty Four
• Six More Miles
• The Party (excerpt)
• Eloise
• Numb Erone/Satisfaction/Kick A Cat
• Howard
• Loss of Innocence
• Tension Of The String
• Constantinople
• Herman, The Human Mole
• Black
• Snakey Wake (excerpt)
• Jack, The Boneless Boy
• Kamikazi Lady
• D Is For Doorknob
• Walter Westinghouse

Seeing and Not Seeing The Residents! Live!


It was February 7th, 1986, about 11pm. A group of 100, maybe 150 people were walking together in a loose collective down North Sheffield, having just left Chicago's elegant Vic Theater. The sidewalks were icy that night, so there was a good deal of slipping and sliding going on, despite the efforts everyone was taking to walk more carefully.

Soon, however, both slipping and sliding, as well as the efforts to prevent it, began to amplify, evolve, expand. Before anyone could understand exactly what was happening, footsteps grew more exaggerated, heads were bobbing, torsos were twisting, arms were waving about. In an instant, it seemed, some maniacal spirit had possessed every one of these people, young and old alike, each of whom had suddenly adopted his or her own style of insane perambulation.

They continued down the street like that, this deranged parade, regardless of the honking horns and the odd looks from alarmed pedestrians, for the next several blocks, until the crowd slowly began to disperse, each following a different path home.

Seeing a Residents show can do that to people.



As a rule, The Residents just don't do things the way other bands do -- and that's especially true of their live shows. It's simply not in their nature to plunk the band members up on stage with some instruments and play songs from their latest album. Every time they've performed live, they made sure that they were doing something different, something singular -- something quite unlike anything else the audience had ever seen. Maybe that explains why, over the past 30 years, they have only undertaken five tours, and only played a dozen-odd (very odd) one-off shows. A Residents performance is always an Event.

Although the group's history is generally traced back to the release of Santa Dog in 1972, they had already performed three live shows prior to that.

The most notorious of these was their very first, on October 18th, 1971, when The Residents invaded Audition Night at The Boarding House in San Francisco. Joined by Phillip "Snakefinger" Lithman, the fabulous Miss Peggy Honeydew, the Mysterious N. Senada, and a cellist in a wedding dress who just happened to wander in that night, they befuddled, amused, and terrified an unsuspecting audience with an unholy (and decidedly unmellow) half hour of music, chanting, hooting, poetry, and odd noises.

With N. Senada in a wide-brimmed hat, trench coat, and sunglasses, and the remaining Residents in cheerleader outfits, this very first show also marked the beginning of the group's 30 year history of only appearing in public while in disguise.

Perhaps in accordance with N. Senada's "Theory of Obscurity," The Residents' next major public performance wouldn't take place for another five years, shortly after releasing their second album, The Third Reich and Roll. Entitled "Oh Mummy! Oh Daddy! Can't You See That It's True; What The Beatles Did to Me, I Love Lucy Did to You,", the June 7th, 1976 show took place as part of an anniversary celebration for Berkley's Rather Ripped Records -- the first store to regularly stock Residents albums.

They were accompanied again that night by Snakefinger (dressed like a giant artichoke) and Peggy Honeydew -- as well as Arf and Omega, the Siamese twin tag team wrestlers, who performed a savage rendition of Santa Dog's "Kick a Cat." The band itself appeared wrapped head to toe in mummy bandages -- realizing only too late that the costumes made it nearly impossible to play their instruments with any dexterity. Still, lessons were learned, and the show went on. Along with performing "Six Things to a Cycle" and their cover of "Satisfaction," they projected both their Third Reich and Roll music video and scenes from their ongoing Vileness Fats film project.

It would be yet another six years before The Residents would perform in public again, but that next time certainly was a doozy -- and it nearly destroyed them.



The Mole Show

In 1982, 10 years after Santa Dog, The Residents felt it was time to undertake a real tour. The reasons behind the fateful decision are shrouded in some mystery, but conflicts within the band certainly had something to do with it. It's generally accepted that the members felt that touring would be a good way to get a few things out of their collective system.

The original idea was to stage an opera based on their 1979 album, Eskimo. In the end, however, they decided to create a live show out of their current project, The More Trilogy, about the conflict between the culture of Moles, forced from their underground homes by natural disaster, and the more urbane Chubs, who see the Moles as a source of cheap labor.

It was a massive project, involving huge sets, stage managers, lighting engineers, busloads of roadies, and Penn Jillette -- who was to be the show smart-mouth Creek Chorus. The Mole Show was designed to be confrontational, confusing, and angry -- a reflection of some of the things they were feeling themselves.

The Residents appeared on stage for the first time in the tuxedoed eyeball-headed outfits which would become their trademark. They performed behind a backlit gauze screen at the rear of the stage, while at the front, a group of dancers carrying flashlights and wearing Groucho glasses acted out the scenes, and the stage crew (also in Groucho glasses) shifted the several painted backdrops around for various effects. In between songs, Penn would insult the goings-on (sometimes in Esperanto) and tell long, intentionally pointless stories.

As the show progressed, it seemed to come apart at the seams. Penn grew angrier, the music more dissonant, the strobe lights harsher. Finally, and frustrated and in a flurry of obscenities, Penn was dragged off stage, only to be returned a few minutes later, gagged and handcuffed to a wheelchair. By this time the theater was filled with smoke, the strobes were flashing more intensely into the crowd, the music was howling -- and that, essentially, was how it ended, leaving a shell-shocked audience to figure out for themselves when it was time to leave. It wasn't Tommy, that's for damn sure.

The show had its desired effect. At one stop, Penn was even assaulted by an audience member while still handcuffed to the wheelchair. Unfortunately for him, the smoke was so thick that nobody in the band could tell what was happening. (Eventually, his attacker was subdued by the stage manager).

Despite critical raves for the show, the on-stage chaos was reflected off stage as well. Trouble with roadies, with promoters, with pens health, and serious economic problems turned the Mole Show into an agonizing three-your ordeal for the band. The Residents returned home angry and more frustrated than ever, vowing never, ever to undertake such folderol again.



The Thirteenth Anniversary Tour

About a year after the Mole tour ended, still reeling from the economic blow they taken, the residents received an extremely generous offer from the Japanese distributor requesting a two week stint of shows. Despite some initial hesitation, however, they stripped things down considerably, keeping it simple, not bothering themselves with busloads of roadies, unwieldy sets and large props.

Seeing as 1985 marked their 13th anniversary, The Residents created the 13th Anniversary show, and flew to Japan with Snakefinger, double-armload of stylized inflatable giraffes, and some radical reworkings of their greatest hits. It was as close to a traditional rock concert is anything they'd ever done. But of course, being residence, it was nowhere near what most people would consider a "traditional rock concert." Not with two eyeball-headed performers on keyboards, two more dancing, another illuminating the dark and stage with handheld lamps, and a lead vocalist in the garish yellow suit and giant bowtie, wearing, at least at one point, a Nixon mask with big novelty sunglasses.

Unlike the Mole Show, the music here was much smoother, much more sophisticated, and the show itself was less confrontational, but, in its own way, every bit is dark. Songs which, in their original incarnations, might've seemed funny and lighthearted were slowed down to a crawl and given a sinister edge.

The Japanese tour was a huge success. Everything clicked during the 13th anniversary show. So much so, that by the time they returned home, The Residents decided to tour the States with it.

Suddenly touring was all fun and games... Until someone lost an eye.

Early in the tour, one of the eyeball masks was stolen from The Residents' dressing room in Los Angeles. It was an unheard of violation-the eyeball heads were specifically designed, individualized, and damned expensive to boot. The theft cast a devastating pall over the rest of the dates. Yet the show went on-- the missing eyeball replaced with a giant black skull, the music grew even darker, and memorial armbands for the last hour made available at the merch table.

In one of those strange turns which have come tomorrow to The Residents' history, Mr. Skull (as he was so known) took on a life of his own, becoming the band's front, well, Resident, even after the return of the pilfered eyeball.

13th Anniversary was an extremely popular tour--their shows at New York's Ritz made them that cities third biggest draw that year (after Eric Clapton and Jerry Garcia)--and within two years (a period which, sadly, also marked the passing of Snakefinger) they were already performing portions of what would become their next major tour.



Cube-E

"Buckaroo Blues", a collection of Resified American cowboy songs, was performed both for German television as well as at the Lincoln Center before becoming Part One of Cube-E: The History of American Music in 3 E-Z Pieces.

Cube-E, which found The Residents setting out to do nothing less than tell the story of, as the subtitle suggests, American music, was a show every bit as ambitious as the Mole Show had been.

It was also a show which marked some radical changes for the band. The dancing was more elaborate for one, and the show's music was comprised entirely of new, unreleased material. Their contract also stipulated that the band would not appear in there familiar Eyeball heads and tuxedos. Instead, new full body geodesic eyeball in school costumes were billed, and seen as part of the stage show.

For the first part of the show, the group appeared in silhouette against a stylized starlit backdrop, and equally abstracted "campfire" made of traffic pylons at the center stage. The singer and two dancers were massive cowboy hats, their "eyes" taking the form of two pen lights on stalks, the singer's mouth outlined in fluorescent material. The rest of the band (without cowboy hats) looked almost insectoid in their stocking masks and pen light eyes. Much of the show would be lit exclusively with black lights, so that everything on the stage would appear in silhouette, except for various fluorescent strips.

Part two, "Black Barry," was The Residents' take on slave songs and early blues. The set ended in remarkable fashion, with a towering, cube-headed figure rising from the back of the stage as the music roared.

The decision to close their American trilogy with Elvis songs seemed an obvious one. But, again, being The Residents, they gave it a wicked twist. Instead of simply having the singer portray Elvis, they opted, in "The Baby King," to have him portray an elderly, retired Elvis impersonator, trying to explain to his grandchildren (two puppets) what all the hubbub was about.

With his face shattered into a jagged puzzle of black and white makeup and an imposing "pompadour" atop his head, the singer -- joined by some Day-Glo Vegas-style back up dancers -- growled and roared his way through a number of Elvis standards. In the end, the singer -- his body now grotesquely inflated -- dies, the first victim of the British invasion.

Far from being a rock concert, it was a widely-the lauded and respected piece of musical theater -- and as a tour Cube-E was relatively mishap-free.



Disfigured Night & Fillmore '97

For the next ten years, The Residents played the occasional one-off show, but concentrated more on other projects, like their first CD-ROMs. Then in 1997 and '98, they played a series of sold-out shows at San Francisco's Fillmore Auditorium. The Halloween shows allowed The Residents to try out both new and old material in front of a live audience again. In 1997, a set of songs from Freak Show, Bad Day on the Midway and Gingerbread Man was followed by a new piece, Disfigured Night, which had first been performed for German television.



Wormwood

Their 1998 shows were based on their latest album, Wormwood -- a collection of Bible stories you didn't hear in Sunday school (unless you went to one of those weird Sunday schools). The Fillmore Wormwood shows were elaborate affairs, which included a 20 piece gamelan orchestra and a climax which echoed "Black Barry" from Cube-E.

Touring with Wormwood in 1999, in many ways, represented both the departure and return for them. Regrettably, the gamelan orchestra was left behind, but The One-Eyed Wonders and Mr. Skull (All newly-streamlined) were back. And for the first time in a long time, The Residents were touring as a more-or-less traditional bad. Most of the music on the earlier doors have been pre-programmed. Now they had a guitarist again, and a drummer on an expanded drum kit -- together with the trademark electronic instruments. It was also the first time since the days of Miss Peggy Honeydew that a female singer assume center stage with the more familiar male voice. Female vocalists were regularly heard on their albums, but, until the 1997 Fillmore shows, they were a rarity live. The new singer brought in the scope of what The Residents were able to do live -- especially at a show like Wormwood, with so many characters and so many costume changes.

The band wore Ecclesiastical robes, and were set up around what appeared to be the interior of some brightly-colored cave. When the curtains parted, they snapped into a tight riff and, emerging like a demon from with in a plume of smoke, a black-suited Mr. Skull performed a delightfully cynical version of "There's No Business Like Show Business," before explaining to the audience (in his inimitable fashion) just what the hell was going on.

Wormwood was designed as a series of set pieces, again more theater than concert, with a male and female singers trading off as the character in question demanded. The singers were similarly attired In black body-stockings, each wearing a hook-nosed half-mask. Once more, do use the black light techniques for scene in Cube-E to illuminate the action. For each character, the singers would appear wearing a suggestion of a costume (David's penis-exposing robes, for instants) and carrying an identifying prop (a giant finger for "God Magic Finger.")

While the first act concentrated on individual minor biblical characters (ending with an unforgettable -- and rockin'! -- version of Lot's song, "Fire Fall"), act to combine the songs, many of them knew, and suites focusing on major characters -- Abraham, Moses, and King David. Mr. Skull himself closed the show as Judas, eventually being consumed by smoke to the strains of Handel's "Hallelujah Chorus."

Using the simplest of lighting tricks, costuming and smoke effects, they were able to set people on fire, dangle them from trees, and send them to hell. It was perhaps their finest show to date -- simultaneously beautiful, heartbreaking, and funny.

By the time the Wormwood tour rolled into New York's Irving Plaza for three-night stand, I had lost nearly all of my vision to a genetic disease, but that didn't matter. I still had tickets for all three shows. Seeing The Residents when you can't really see The Residents is, you figure, and interesting -- even ironic -- proposition at a few things working to my advantage, though. I had a (sighted) friend who was as much a Residents fanatic as I was. And despite the general admission madness at Irving Plaza, she was able to wrestle a 2nd-row center seats for the first show, and front row seats for the second. we were also lucky enough, that first night, to be sitting in front of the Italian nut who had arrived and a homemade Residents costume, complete with gigantic eyeball head and top hat, which he wore throughout the show.

She also knew how to direct my eyes (which tend to drift) towards the action on the stage, and could very quietly give me the gist of what was going on. Though I may not have caught all the subtleties, and I did a lot of guessing, I don't think I missed a thing. Blind or not.

When the immediately recognizable strains of Jesus Christ Superstar rumble through the PA system that first night, I felt my stomach turn over. I grinned an involuntary grin -- one which never left my face for the duration of the show. (Residents shows'll do that to you, too.)

I heard the curtains part, and could catch enough in my field of vision to realize that they were indeed up there, that this wasn't some sort of elaborate prank, and that the eyeballs were in place. I also guess that the dark figure center-stage was Mr. Skull. The music took it from there.

The black lights limited with a few things I was able to catch, but in a way that made things more interesting. I cut the flushable white glove gesturing in the darkness, or big snows, or a flutter of white robes. It was almost like seeing a group of girls perform, just a collection of decent body parts finding brief form the ectoplasm. I guess that's one way to think about The Residents, Who appear do I so rarely, and his music never really seemed to be of this Earth.

When the show was over, after that rousing (and sobering) rendition of "That Old Time Religion," I was exhausted and exhilarated and very happy to know that we'd be back there again the following two nights.

Despite the success of Wormwood, there were a few rough spots along the way. The most serious trouble arose during the performance in Athens, Greece, when a Resident was forced to leave the stage after being struck in the head by a large rock thrown by an audience member. Whether it was a comment on the subject matter, the performance, or an anti-American statement concerning the then-raging war in Bosnia is unknown.

Still, the fact that this was only the second such incident over some three decades says something, I think. Even when their shows were confrontational, controversial (as Wormwood was), or just plain cryptic, they've earned our respect.

More than respect, even -- there's an undeniable reverence among Residents fans. They don't jump around during shows, they don't sing along (except on rare occasions), there's no stage diving.

Audience members rarely even talk amongst themselves. They tend to sit still and pay attention. They are strange lot, granted -- Lord knows that Residents fans aren't just normal -- and it's not that they don't have a damn good time -- but a Residents show is a rarity, and something to be savored.



Icky Flix

Two years after the Wormwood tour, The Residents released Icky Flix -- a DVD collection of all the new video work. As they've done in the past the group rethought and reworked all of those old songs, transforming them into new songs all over again.

A tour to promote such a product could've been very simple. Get up on stage, play the new songs, even projector videos on the screen if you like. Then go get a beer, go back to the hotel, take a nap. But that just wouldn't do. The Residents wanted to play the videos, yes -- but they also want to accompany them with live music. Now, if all the music had been programmed before hand, then syncing things up would be a breeze. But when you're traveling with a full live band? Everything had to be timed perfectly with the images on the screen they wouldn't be able to see.

Still, they pulled it off.

After a Resident in classic cup I-where (always a crowd-please her) appeared at the front of the stage, displayed a remote, and clicked it at the screen getting the show underway, the lights came up to reveal the band (again and they're in sick boy black outfits with the penlight eyes) flanking the stage, playing behind backlit mesh screens.

Mr. Skull was there, and a new maniacally leering mask, as was the female singer, and her "demented Nancy Sinatra" best: long pink wig, fluorescent blue dress, yellow go-go waders and giant shades. Unless they were performing, they, too, stood behind their own screen. It was all very simple, but very effective. Mr. Skull even got to play his saxophone at one point.

At the half-way mark, there was an intermission, of sorts. But instead of the audience getting up and running for the bathroom in the bar, they stayed put, and The Residents wandered around the stage and chatted amongst themselves, one even making a call on his cell phone. After a few minutes, they returned to their places and continued playing.

Nope, you just never know what you're going to get with a Residents show.



Some people go to see their favorite bands live because they're seeking the familiar. They want to see the people who recorded their favorite songs performed the songs exactly as they remember them from the albums. Residents fans are different. They know they're not going to see the faces behind these songs, and they know they aren't going to hear their favorite songs note-for-note as they appeared on the records. They go expecting only the unexpected, knowing they aren't going to see anything they've ever seen before. And The Residents have never, ever disappointed.

Over these past 30 years The Residents have not aged. Not a day. Yet unlike most bands (for whom not aging would be a dream come true), they've continued to evolve and experiment, to strike out in new directions -- even when it comes to something as seemingly mundane and simple as "playing out."

We don't know when we'll see The Residents again, or what the heck they'll be doing. All we know is that it'll be really something. And even though I won't be able to see a damn thing, I'll be there.


-- Jim Knipfel