Album by The Wipers, released 1984 on the Restless label.

This be some frantic, rockin' stuff. Ten years later this would have been a grunge classic but, as it is, it's now a venerable object of music history. These guys didn't just sing about angst, they invented it. This is one of the finest albums of the mid-1980s, when punk was dying and only a few bands like the Wipers were still flying the banner and flying it high. Your grunge record collection is incomplete without this gem.

  1. Over the Edge
  2. Doom Town
  3. So Young
  4. Messenger
  5. Romeo
  6. Now is the Time
  7. What Is
  8. No One Wants an Alien
  9. The Lonely One
  10. No Generation Gap
  11. This Time

The best tracks on this album are probably Doom Town, Over the Edge and Romeo. This is also a very good album for getting to know Greg Sage and his band.

If you add lyrics for any tracks on this album, please let me know and I'll add hard links.

A weekly radio show on 94.1 KPFA in Berkeley, said to be the longest-running freeform show in public radio. The show is every Thursday night (actually Friday morning) from midnight to 3, except for the first Thursday of every month. It was founded by Don Joyce, who still is the official license-holder and the one responsible for filling the time slot every week, but the program has become associated pretty closely with the group Negativland. Only occasional installments of OTE include all 5 members of Negativland, but the show always utilizes techniques and concepts that are important foundations of the band, like live sound collage and "receptacle programming", the unedited live phone calls which have provided a lot of the most truly unique and hilarious moments in the history of the program.

Don has been doing the show since the early 1980s, and the rest of Negativland soon discovered it and began participating. Other frequent collaborators in Over the Edge include Wobbly, Ronald Redball, and Phineas Narco. Many fans are regular callers who have developed on-air personas, and who often inject their own sound collages or music into the mix via the phone lines. Don also frequently collages recordings of previous shows and callers into new shows, so that at many times it's unclear (even to the callers) who is a live caller, who is a recorded caller, and who is a totally constructed monologue made from samples.

Don sells unedited cassette collections of the better OTE episodes, and Seeland, Negativland's label, has also released several Over the Edge CDs, which present edited thematic highlights of certain shows or series of shows, such as The Time Zones Exchange Project, JamCon 84, The Weatherman's Dumb Stupid Come-out Line, and Sex Dirt. A recent and very interesting OTE concept series is The Chopping Channel.

for more information, see

A role-playing game (the paper kind) created by master game designers Jonathan Tweet and Robin Laws, and published by Atlas Games. Over the Edge was inspired in part by the fiction of William Burroughs, particularly the Tangiers-inspired milieu of Interzone. However, Al Amarja (as the island nation detailed in Over the Edge is named) is both less unhinged than Interzone and more so.

Over the Edge is one of many games that strive to create a world in which all conceivable conspiracy theories are true simultaneously. OtE crosses Burroughs' drug-hazed exotica with, say, an offshore tech haven, and a business hub curiously misplaced in the South Seas. The stories in Over the Edge are driven by factions, like so many RPGs these days: the business types, hacker types, and voodoo pusher-magician types all form tribes and compete for control of the island of Al Amarja, the better to provide default motivations for PCs and NPCs alike and keep the story moving.

The world of Over the Edge is also the basis for the collectible card game On the Edge, which was one of the first major post-Magic offerings in the genre and, according to some, still one of the best. On the Edge was actually released several months before Over the Edge, so whether one was intended as a loss leader for the other is a real question (as is: which for which?).

I stand balanced on the edge, gravel grinding under my feet. The sharp breeze teases my hair and swirls the mist into beguiling and alluring shapes. I stare out, watching the fleeting images of castles, mountains and laughing faces form and dissolve in the tendrils of vapour as fear and anxiety gnaw at my stomach.

I shift my tense body; my feet performing a nervous shuffle yet keen to commence a walkabout. I am drawn closer to the edge as sounds drift from the fog, snippets of laughter, the crash of waves, lonely birds cry and machinery grinds out of the thick translucent mist. Curiosity draws me to the brink, the edge crumbling at my feet, stones bouncing in the swirling, seething mass. Try as I might the sights and sounds elude my control, I can not grasp their meanings.

Emotion boils out of the fog sending shudders down my spine, tangible wisps of love, hope, excitement, adventure, heartbreak and anticipation. My heart pounds in excitement, its shiny new pink scars holding out against the welter of emotions encircling it. They become overwhelming pushing me back and forth from the heights of joy to the depths of loneliness, I do not know whether to laugh or cry. My skin itches as the emotions well to the surface threatening to drown my sense of self and burst the shiny new scars.

I glance over my shoulder to where my family stands together, smiling through tears. My mother’s words drift through my mind as I smile tightly at my flesh and blood, an unseverable bond. There are many times as a parent when you wish that you had a magic wand to fix everything for your children, but unfortunately magic wands are in short supply! Hang in there! And remember that we are here for you.” The flood of emotion disappears to a trickle, relief. The fog becomes menacing, the edge crumbling away from my soles, I step back as I hear my friends whisper “We will miss you!” I should turn back, there is no other place for me!

Return to the warm embrace of friends and family, to the unconditional love of the piece of my soul I have left behind, her emerald eyes watching me reproachfully from my father's arms. Take comfort again in the solid dependability of my life, the routine and simple enjoyment of my own space. The cool wind tickles my neck as the ghosts of the past rise behind my family and friends, memories of hurt, pain and regret swirl around my confused mind. The ghosts drift forward enveloping my ties with family and friends; twisting and turning the bonds into the shape they want. The sounds from the fog become louder, beckoning me to turn offering escape from the memories and the manipulation of ghosts that hold sway over me.

My life leans heavy against my leg as my world contracts and expands, my focus pulled by the lure of the fog, the edge becomes more enticing. The mist sneaks into my chosen uniform of black through the layers searching for the hurts and regrets. The ghosts subside and the siren voices from the fog sing to my troubled heart and soul. My lungs are filled with the sweet tang of the unknown as I breathe in the creeping vapour. I draw a deep breath and leave the shadows of my past behind, wrapping my family's love around me like a coat I step over the edge and into the unknown.

Log in or registerto write something here or to contact authors.