God's Lunatics
God's Lunatics in corpse paint outside a strip-mall laundromat at dusk

Tulsa Norwegian Corpse Paint Rock · 1992–2000

From the frozen wastes of Tulsa.

“We are definitely from Norway.”

Provenance

Origin, per postmark
Tulsa, Oklahoma
Origin, per the band
Oslo, Norway
Filed under
Norway (Tulsa)

The archive records both. It has not been asked to choose.

Black Metal · 1992–2000

Kvlt Nonsense Records

Read the list

The Chronicles

How it was summoned

God’s Lunatics formed in Tulsa, Oklahoma in 1992 when Terry Mullins discovered a Norwegian black metal album at a record store on Cherry Street and decided that this — this — was the sound that lived inside him. He called Kevin. Kevin called Dale. Dale already had a drum kit because Dale always has a drum kit. Bobby came later. Within six weeks they had corpse paint, rehearsed in Dale’s parents’ garage, and had sent a handwritten letter to a Norwegian record label introducing themselves as being from “the frozen wastes of Tulsa, Oklahoma, where the darkness is very real.” The label did not respond. This was interpreted as respect.

From the correspondence“We wrote to Norway. They wrote back asking where Tulsa was. We took that as a sign.”— Terry Mullins, founding vocalist, 1998 interview with a zine that printed 40 copies
A two-car suburban garage at night with a drum kit, amplifiers and a four-track recorder on a card table

The garage. Spring 1994. Four Saturdays. One lawnmower, or motorcycle.

The history, in five chronicles. Numbered in Roman, as the band numbered everything they considered permanent.

Chronicle I

The Calling (1992)

Terry Mullins was seventeen when he heard it. Not the band’s name, which came later. The sound. The specific combination of tremolo guitar and blast beats and screaming that sounded like it had been recorded in a cave by someone who had given up on warmth as a concept. He bought the tape. He played it for Kevin in the Lowe’s parking lot. Kevin said it sounded like a blender full of bees. Terry said yes, exactly, that’s it.

They formed God’s Lunatics the following Tuesday. The name came from a conversation about what God might think of people who dedicated themselves entirely to darkness. Terry said God’s reaction would probably be confusion. Kevin said lunatics. Terry said yes.

Chronicle II

The Corpse Paint Question (1992–1993)

The issue of corpse paint was discussed at length. The traditional approach involved theatrical makeup purchased from specialty suppliers overseas. The Tulsa approach involved a Walgreens on Peoria Avenue and whatever was left after Halloween. The result was functionally identical. Terry maintains to this day that the brand doesn’t matter. What matters is the commitment.

The first time they appeared in full corpse paint in public was at a Braum’s ice cream location on Memorial Drive. This was not intentional. They had simply not had time to clean up before needing food. The staff was professional about it.

Chronicle III

The Norway Correspondence (1993)

Terry wrote to three Norwegian black metal labels in 1993. He described God’s Lunatics as arising from “the frozen plains of middle America, where the ancient darkness pools in the red dirt and the oil derricks pierce the sky like the spears of forgotten gods.” One label responded asking where Oklahoma was. Terry wrote back with geographic context. The label did not respond further. God’s Lunatics chose to interpret this as acknowledgment.

Kevin later pointed out that Norway has actual winters and that Tulsa’s winters, while real, are not quite the same. Terry said the darkness is internal. Kevin said fair enough.

Chronicle IV

The Kevin Situation (1998)

Kevin Stubbs left God’s Lunatics in 1998 to pursue a career in insurance. He did not make a statement. He simply stopped coming to rehearsal and, when asked, said he had a lot going on. Terry wrote a song called “The Betrayal of Kveld-Kevin” which Kevin has never heard because Kevin no longer listens to this kind of music.

The band continued as a three-piece for eight months before Bobby Patterson joined on bass. Bobby had no strong feelings about Norwegian black metal but owned a bass and was available on weekends. He has been described by all remaining members as “solid.”

Chronicle V

The End (2000)

God’s Lunatics played their final show in March 2000 at a venue in Muskogee whose name has been lost to history. Thirty-one people attended. Three of them were in corpse paint as a tribute. The band played for forty-five minutes, which was twenty minutes longer than their set, because nobody stopped them. Dale broke a drumstick on the last song. Terry kept it. Bobby said it was a good show. That was the last thing anyone said about it for several years.

Frost-covered Oklahoma prairie at dawn in January with a single oil pump jack

Northeastern Oklahoma, January. Cold. Not Norwegian cold. Cold.

The Horde

Four in the paint

Four members wore the paint. Three did not, and were present at every show regardless. Names are given as printed on the tapes, with the ones on the driver's licenses beneath.

Terry Mullins, Vocals / Screaming

Darkthane the Destroyer

a.k.a. Terry Mullins

Vocals / Screaming · Served 1992–2000

“The darkness does not care where you are from. It finds you.”

Ritual

Terry has a thing he does at the end of every performance where he stands completely still for approximately ten seconds after the last note, eyes closed, before opening them and walking offstage without acknowledging the audience. He has done this at every show including the ones where there were three people present. He calls it “the closing.” He did not give it a name until someone asked.

“Norway got there first. That does not mean they got there only.”

“Kevin leaving was a practical matter. The music was not affected.”

Present whereabouts: Assistant manager, Lowe’s Hardware, Broken Arrow. Still has the tapes.

Kevin Stubbs, Guitar

Vargkveld the Pale

a.k.a. Kevin Stubbs

Guitar · Served 1992–1998

“The music was good. I want to be clear about that. The music was genuinely good.”

Ritual

Kevin has a habit, when playing a part he finds particularly satisfying, of closing his eyes and tilting his head very slightly to the left. He does not know he does this. It is the only time in any photograph that he looks like he is exactly where he wants to be.

“I left because I did the math. The math was the math.”

“I am not embarrassed about any of it. I am also not going to bring it up.”

Present whereabouts: Sells insurance in Tulsa. Goes by Kevin again. Does not discuss this period.

Dale Hensley, Drums

Skullcrusher Nox

a.k.a. Dale Hensley

Drums · Served 1992–2000

“Terry needed a drummer. I said yes. That is the whole story.”

Ritual

Dale has a thing where, at the end of a particularly good run of blast beats, he lets the last note ring just a half beat longer than written. It is subtle. Terry noticed it after the first year and decided it was correct and left it in. Dale considers this the closest thing to a creative decision he ever made in the band.

“The blast beats on "Frozen Wastes" are technically demanding. People underestimate what that took.”

“I wore the paint. It took about twelve minutes to apply if you were efficient about it.”

Present whereabouts: Still has the drum kit. His wife has asked about it. He has not answered.

Bobby Patterson, Bass

Icewyrm

a.k.a. Bobby Patterson

Bass · Served 1998–2000

“Dale said the band needed a bass player. I had a bass. It seemed like a reasonable conclusion.”

Ritual

Bobby has a habit of nodding very slightly when a bass line is working — not to the beat, but a single slow nod at the moment it locks in. It is subtle. Dale noticed it after three rehearsals and concluded Bobby was reliable. He was right.

“I did not go into this expecting to have strong opinions about Norwegian black metal and I did not leave with strong opinions about Norwegian black metal. The bass parts were good though.”

“Terry means every word. I want to be clear about that. Every single word.”

Present whereabouts: Moved to Norman. Does not talk about the bass years. Owns a boat.

Eternal hails to

Every tape of the period ended with a thank-you list. These three were on all of them.

Randy Duggan, Venue Owner (Randy’s Rec Room / “The Pit”)

Randy Duggan

Venue Owner (Randy’s Rec Room / “The Pit”) · 1993–2000

“The PA is included. Do not break the PA.”

Ritual

Randy arrives at every show thirty minutes early, turns on the PA, checks that the basement lights work, puts a coffee can on the table by the stairs for the door money, and stands at the top of the stairs with his arms crossed. He does not go into the basement during shows. He monitors from above.

Present whereabouts: Still rents the property. The basement is now storage. He has not removed the PA system. He says he might book shows again. He will not book shows again.

Brenda Mullins, Support / Logistics / Sandwiches

Brenda Mullins (Terry's Mom)

Support / Logistics / Sandwiches · 1992–2000

“I brought sandwiches. Pimento cheese, turkey, and PB&J. The crusts are cut.”

Ritual

Brenda arrives at every show with the red Coleman cooler. She sets it near the stairs. She sits in a folding chair she brings from home — not Randy’s chairs, her own chair, because she knows it is comfortable. She does not stand during shows. She does not move. After the show, she offers sandwiches to anyone who is hungry, which is everyone, because it is midnight in a basement.

Present whereabouts: Still in Broken Arrow. Still has the demo tape on the kitchen counter. Still plays it for guests. Still fast-forwards through the screaming parts.

Darryl Hogue, Distribution (Wax Trax Records, Cherry Street)

Darryl Hogue

Distribution (Wax Trax Records, Cherry Street) · 1993–1999

“Forty-seven copies. I counted. There was nothing else to count.”

Ritual

When a customer browses the metal section — any metal section, at any store Darryl has worked at since — he waits exactly ninety seconds before approaching. This is the optimal time. Sooner feels pushy. Later means they might leave without guidance. Ninety seconds. He has timed this.

Present whereabouts: Still has the unsold copies in a box labeled “GOD’S LUNATICS — TULSA DISTRIBUTION.” The box has moved apartments three times. Darryl has never considered discarding it.

Discography

Kvlt Nonsense Records

Mail-Order List No. 7

Winter 1999 · Supersedes all previous lists · Prices on request

Three releases. All of them out of print, one of them never in print. Catalog numbers are the label's. Quantities are the archive's.

Cat. no.TitleFormatStatus
KNR-001From the Frozen Wastes of Tulsa199447-minute cassette. Recorded in Dale’s garage. Dale’s aunt Carol audible on track 4.Notes & track listing →Cassette · 47 min · four-track, garage47 made · 31 distributed · 16 boxed in Broken Arrow
KNR-002The Ancient Ones Know Our Name (They Don't)1996CD-R release. 12 copies distributed. 9 confirmed still in existence.Notes & track listing →CD-R · hand-numbered12 distributed · 9 confirmed extant
KNR-003Oklahoma Is Actually Cold in January1999Final album. Kevin is not on this one. Terry played his parts. You can’t tell.Notes & track listing →Hard drive · one burned CDNever distributed · Do not send money

Trade list

Loose recordings. Trade only. Send a blank tape and return postage. The label does not dub over anything it did not record.

  1. T-01From the Frozen Wastes of TulsaTrade
  2. T-02Corpse Paint at Walgreens (Extended Version)Trade
  3. T-03The Betrayal of Kveld-KevinTrade
  4. T-04Oklahoma Is Actually Cold in JanuaryTrade
  5. T-05Route 666 (Is Just Route 66 With Extra Commitment)Trade

How to order

  • Send well-hidden cash. Two sheets of paper minimum.
  • No checks. No money orders drawn on banks outside Tulsa County.
  • Stamps with glue will be returned with your order.
  • Allow six to eight weeks. Allow longer in January.
  • Orders received during tornado season ship when the sirens stop.
  • All letters answered. The label does not respond to questions about where Tulsa is.
47cassettes made, 1994
31distributed
12CD-Rs, 1996
9still confirmed
1burned CD. It still plays.
A narrow record store aisle with cassette racks and a hand-lettered divider card
Cherry Street. Filed under Norway. Parenthetical Tulsa.
A cardboard box of cassettes in plastic cases on a kitchen counter
Tulsa distribution. The box has moved three times. It has not been opened for discard.

Live Rituals

Field reports

Six incidents, 1992–1998. Each entry is complete as filed. Where a report is short, it is because nothing else happened.

  1. 1992No. 01

    The Walgreens Run

    Walgreens, Peoria Avenue, Tulsa, Oklahoma

    God’s Lunatics sourced their corpse paint from a Walgreens on Peoria Avenue after a twenty-five-minute consultation with a seventeen-year-old named Brandon whose mother did community theater.

    Full report

    Three weeks after forming, God’s Lunatics needed corpse paint for their first show. Terry had researched the traditional approach — theatrical makeup from specialty suppliers — and discovered the lead time was six weeks and the cost was significant. The show was in four days. Dale said there was a Walgreens on Peoria. They went at nine in the evening, Terry and Dale, still in their regular clothes, and stood in the Halloween aisle for approximately twenty-five minutes debating the merits of various white face paint formulations. A store employee asked if they needed help. Terry said yes and explained, in some detail, what they were trying to achieve. The employee, a seventeen-year-old named Brandon, recommended the cream-based theatrical white as more stable under stage lighting. Terry asked how Brandon knew this. Brandon said his mom did community theater. Terry bought four of them. He has repurchased the same product every year since, even after the band ended, because he found it correct.

  2. 1993No. 02

    The Norway Letter

    Terry Mullins' bedroom, Broken Arrow, Oklahoma

    Terry wrote to Norway. They sent a form letter asking where Oklahoma was. He wrote back with geographic context. They did not write again. He considered this acknowledgment.

    Full report

    In January 1993, Terry wrote three letters to Norwegian black metal record labels introducing God’s Lunatics. The letters were written by hand on notebook paper and described the band as arising from “the frozen plains of middle America, where the ancient darkness pools in the red dirt and the oil derricks pierce the sky like the spears of forgotten gods.” He included a cassette tape with four songs recorded in Dale’s parents’ garage. One label responded. The response was a form letter asking for the band’s location for their database. Terry wrote back with geographic context: Tulsa, Oklahoma, USA, population approximately 400,000, located in the northeastern quadrant of the state, significant oil industry heritage, winters cold but not Norwegian cold, darkness plentiful. The label did not write back. Terry interpreted this as acknowledgment. He has maintained this interpretation.

  3. 1993No. 03

    The Braum's Incident

    Braum's Ice Cream, Memorial Drive, Tulsa, Oklahoma

    God’s Lunatics ate at a Braum’s in full corpse paint after a show. A child asked Terry if he was a skeleton. He said no, he was a musician. This satisfied the child.

    Full report

    Following their third show, in full corpse paint, God’s Lunatics stopped at a Braum’s ice cream restaurant on Memorial Drive because Dale wanted a cheeseburger and they had not eaten since noon. They went in. They ordered. They sat down. They ate. The staff was professional throughout. One family with young children moved to a different section. An elderly man at the counter looked at them for approximately forty-five seconds and then returned to his coffee. A child of about six approached the table and asked Terry if he was a skeleton. Terry said no, he was a musician. The child said oh and went back to his parents. This is the complete record of the Braum’s incident. It has been described by Dale as “just getting a burger” and by Terry as “a test the world did not know it was administering.”

  4. 1995No. 04

    The Church Basement Show

    First Lutheran Church Fellowship Hall, Tulsa, Oklahoma

    God’s Lunatics performed black metal in a church fellowship hall by accident. Two congregation members who did not get the rescheduling notice stayed for the full set. One wrote to Terry afterward. He kept the letter.

    Full report

    The Church Basement Show was not supposed to be a church. It was supposed to be a community center. The booking, handled by a person named Greg who knew Dale from the auto parts store, involved a miscommunication about the venue that was not discovered until load-in, at which point they were already there, already in corpse paint, already carrying equipment through a door that had a cross above it. The fellowship hall had a large wooden cross mounted on the wall behind what would become the stage. Terry looked at the cross for a long time. Then he set up the microphone. The show went on. Fourteen people attended. Two of them were there for a church meeting that had been rescheduled and had not received the notice. Those two people stayed for the full set. One of them later wrote to Terry to say the music was very loud but the commitment was apparent. Terry kept the letter.

  5. 1995No. 05

    The Arby's Parking Lot Show

    Arby's parking lot, Enid, Oklahoma

    When their Enid venue cancelled day-of, God’s Lunatics played five songs in an Arby’s parking lot from the bed of Dale’s truck. The Arby’s employee told them to keep it down and later said they were pretty good.

    Full report

    The Enid show fell through at 4pm on the day of the show, when the venue called Dale to say there had been a scheduling conflict and they were very sorry. The band was already two hours into the drive. They arrived in Enid anyway, because turning around felt wrong, and parked in an Arby’s parking lot to discuss options. Terry got out of the car. He looked at the parking lot. He said they should play. Kevin said play where. Terry pointed at the bed of Dale’s truck. Dale considered this for approximately three seconds and said the tailgate would hold the kick drum if they bungee it. They set up. They played four songs. Eleven people watched, all of whom happened to be in the parking lot for unrelated reasons. Two of them stayed for all four songs. An Arby’s employee came out and asked them to keep it down. Dale turned down his kick drum trigger. They played a fifth song. The employee came back out. They packed up. The employee said they were actually pretty good. Terry said thank you and meant it, which surprised the employee.

  6. 1998No. 06

    The Kevin Announcement

    Dale's garage, Tulsa, Oklahoma

    Kevin left the band at a Tuesday rehearsal to pursue insurance. He said it clearly and packed his cables neatly. Terry stood in the garage for a while afterward. Dale covered the drum kit.

    Full report

    On a Tuesday evening in April 1998, Kevin Stubbs arrived at rehearsal, set up his guitar as usual, played through the first song as usual, and then, after the song ended, said that he was leaving the band to pursue a career in insurance. He said this the same way he said everything — clearly, without drama, as a fact that had been determined and was now being communicated. There was a silence of approximately fifteen seconds during which Terry did not move. Dale said okay. Kevin unplugged his guitar. Terry said he did not understand. Kevin said he knew. Terry said that was not the same as an explanation. Kevin said he knew that too. Kevin packed his cables very neatly, as he always did, and left. Terry stood in the garage for a while after. Dale started covering the drum kit. They did not rehearse further that evening.

A church fellowship hall with folding chairs, a wooden cross on the wall and a band in face paint setting up
The fellowship hall, 1995. Fourteen in attendance. Two by mistake. Both stayed.
A band in face paint playing from the bed of a pickup truck in a fast-food parking lot at dusk
Enid, 1995. The tailgate held the kick drum. It was bungeed.

Kvlt Nonsense Records presents

The Frozen Plains of Oklahoma Tour

1995

  • Tulsa, OKThe Venue on Cherry Street
  • Broken Arrow, OKDale's Parents' Garage (Final Show Here)
  • Oklahoma City, OKSome Guy's Basement
  • Bartlesville, OKA Building
  • Enid, OKThe Parking Lot Behind Arby's (Unplanned)
  • Muskogee, OKA Place That Has Since Closed
  • Wichita, KSWe Drove Too Far (Still Played)

Admission: whatever you have

All ages · Bring a chair if you need a chair · No refunds

The darkness was real. The corpse paint was Walgreens.

Live

The one tour

Seven dates. Six in Oklahoma. One in Kansas, which was not planned. The band played it regardless.

Admission terms confirmed by the local paper, October 1995.

As printed on the back of the flyer“We wrote to Norway. They asked where Oklahoma was.”

Press

Clippings

Two clippings. One from a quarterly that drove in from Kansas City. One from the local paper, which did not have to drive.

Midlands Metal Quarterly · Spring 1996

God’s Lunatics: “The Darkness Does Not Have a Zip Code”

Tulsa's most committed black metal act speaks to the MMQ about Norway, Oklahoma, and the correct application of corpse paint

“The darkness does not have a zip code. It exists wherever it exists.”
Read the whole clipping

By Staff Correspondent

We meet Terry Mullins in a Subway restaurant on 71st Street in Tulsa, Oklahoma, which he has chosen because it is near his apartment and has adequate parking. He is not in corpse paint. He is wearing a black t-shirt and jeans and drinking a large Diet Coke. He looks like a person who has thought about things.

God’s Lunatics released their second album, “The Ancient Ones Know Our Name (They Don’t),” last fall on CD-R in an edition of twelve copies. We have a copy. We drove here from Kansas City.

MMQ: You’re from Tulsa. Black metal is associated with Norway. Does that ever feel like a contradiction?

TERRY: No.

MMQ: Can you expand on that?

TERRY: The darkness does not have a zip code. It exists wherever it exists. In my experience it exists in Tulsa. This is not a contradiction. This is geography.

MMQ: The album title — “The Ancient Ones Know Our Name (They Don’t)” — the parenthetical seems like it might be undermining the premise.

TERRY: It is being precise. We do not know if the ancient ones know our name. The parenthetical acknowledges this honestly. I find dishonesty in a song title to be a worse problem than ambiguity.

MMQ: Did you really write to Norwegian labels?

TERRY: Three of them. One responded.

MMQ: What did they say?

TERRY: They asked where Oklahoma was. For their database.

MMQ: What did you say?

TERRY: I told them. In some detail. They did not write back.

MMQ: Do you consider that a rejection?

TERRY: I consider it a correspondence that concluded. That is different from a rejection.

MMQ: Kevin left the band last year.

TERRY: He left to pursue insurance.

MMQ: How do you feel about that?

TERRY: I do not understand it. I have said that I understand it. I do not understand it.

MMQ: What’s next for God’s Lunatics?

TERRY: We are working on a third album. Dale’s aunt Carol may contribute again. We have not asked her yet.

He finishes his Diet Coke. He thanks us for coming to Tulsa. He means it. He always means it.

Tulsa World · October 1995

LOCAL SCENE: Various acts play the community circuit

God's Lunatics perform at what turned out to be a church

“He appeared to notice and care about very little beyond the next note.”
Read the whole clipping

By Contributed

God’s Lunatics, a local black metal outfit operating out of the northeast part of the city, performed Friday evening at a venue that turned out to be a church fellowship hall. This was, according to the bass player who declined to give his name, not entirely intentional.

The band — four young men in black and white face paint — played for approximately forty minutes to an audience of fourteen, two of whom appeared to be there by mistake. The music was loud and technically accomplished, with particularly strong drumming from the stocky member in the back who appeared to be enjoying himself considerably.

The vocalist, a tall young man with long black hair, performed with a commitment that this reviewer found notable regardless of one’s position on the genre. He did not appear to notice or care that there was a wooden cross on the wall behind him. He appeared to notice and care about very little beyond the next note.

The two apparent accidentally attendees stayed for the full set. One of them was observed to nod slowly during the fifth song.

God’s Lunatics are playing the Cherry Street venue on the 14th. Admission is, according to a flyer, “whatever you have.”

The long documents

Four accounts held in full. Open any of them. They are long because the band was thorough.

Doc. IHow God’s Lunatics Came to Exist: A Complete Account

The precise moment God’s Lunatics came into existence is known, which is unusual for bands and possibly for anything. It was a Thursday afternoon in October 1992, at a record store on Cherry Street in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Terry Mullins was working his shift when a customer returned a cassette tape, said it was too loud, and asked for store credit. Terry’s manager said to put it in the return bin. Terry put it in the return bin and then, ten minutes later, took it to the back and listened to it on his Walkman.

The tape was a Norwegian black metal album. Terry had heard music he liked before. He had not heard music that felt, as he would later describe it, like it had been made for a specific place inside him that he did not know existed until the music found it. He listened to the whole side in the back of the store. Then he flipped it and listened to the other side. Then he bought it with his employee discount.

He called Dale that evening. Dale and Terry had been friends since tenth grade, connected by the fact that both of them were in the school band — Terry on clarinet, which he quit; Dale on percussion, which he did not. Terry played him a portion of the tape over the phone, holding the receiver next to the speaker. Dale said it was interesting. Terry said he wanted to start a band. Dale said okay. Terry said it needed to be this kind of band. Dale said what kind. Terry explained. Dale said he would need to hear more of it to be sure he could do the drums. Terry said he would bring the tape tomorrow. He did. Dale listened. Dale said yes.

Kevin was recruited three days later. He and Terry had been in the same English class in eleventh grade and Terry knew he played guitar. Kevin listened to the tape in full, asked several clarifying questions about the tremolo picking technique, and said he could probably do it with practice. He practiced. He could do it.

The name came from a conversation in Dale’s parents’ garage in November 1992. Terry had a list of possible names on a piece of notebook paper. The list included seventeen options. Dale and Kevin went through them. Kevin said most of them were fine but none of them were right. Terry said what was right. Kevin said he did not know but he would know when he heard it. Terry said what about God’s Lunatics, from a phrase he had read in a book about medieval religious movements. Kevin said that was it. Dale said it was good. They did not discuss it further. It has not been changed since.

Doc. IIThe Tulsa Darkness: God’s Lunatics and the Geography of Commitment

A common question about God’s Lunatics is why. Why Tulsa. Why black metal. Why go to this specific effort in this specific place. Terry Mullins has been asked this question in two interviews and has answered it the same way both times: the darkness does not have a zip code.

This is not a deflection. It is his actual answer and his actual belief. He has elaborated on it when pressed. The elaboration goes approximately like this: the music addresses something that exists in the world. That thing — the darkness, he calls it, not metaphorically but as a descriptor of a specific quality he believes he can identify — is not located in Scandinavia. It is located wherever it is located. In his experience, it is located in Tulsa. He does not find this strange.

Doc. IIIThe Recording of “From the Frozen Wastes of Tulsa”: A Production History

The first album was recorded in Dale’s parents’ garage over four consecutive Saturday afternoons in the spring of 1994. The recording equipment was a four-track cassette recorder borrowed from a friend of Kevin’s, two microphones that Kevin owned, and the band’s regular instruments. The garage was not soundproofed. You can hear, on track three, what is almost certainly a lawnmower in the middle distance. Nobody has ever been able to confirm this definitively because it could also be a motorcycle. Terry says motorcycle. Dale says lawnmower. Kevin, who no longer listens to the album, has not weighed in.

Track four, “Corpse Paint at Walgreens (Extended Version),” features a keyboard part that was not planned. Dale’s aunt Carol was visiting that afternoon and asked what they were doing. Terry explained. Aunt Carol, who played piano at her church and had a music theory background from community college, asked if she could listen. She listened to the first two tracks. She said the songs had good structure but needed more in the mid-range. Terry said the mid-range was intentionally cold. She said she understood but she thought it could be both cold and have more mid-range. She sat down at the keyboard they used for occasional drone effects and played something. It was exactly right. Terry asked if she would do it for track four. She said she supposed she could. She did one take. That is the take on the album.

Aunt Carol was told the album would be distributed as a cassette to regional music stores and interested parties. Forty-seven cassettes were produced. Thirty-one were distributed. The remaining sixteen are in a box in Terry’s apartment in Broken Arrow.

Doc. IVWhat Remained: The Legacy of God’s Lunatics

God’s Lunatics played their last show in March 2000 in Muskogee, Oklahoma. Thirty-one people attended. The band played for forty-five minutes, which was fifteen minutes longer than scheduled. Nobody stopped them. Dale broke a drumstick on the last song. Terry kept it. Bobby said it was a good show. Those were the last words anyone said about it for several years.

The question of legacy is interesting for a band that operated entirely within a regional circuit, released three recordings with a combined original distribution of fewer than a hundred copies, and never played outside of Oklahoma except for one show in Wichita that they drove to by accident.

The legacy is this: they meant it. Every person who saw God’s Lunatics perform came away with the same impression, regardless of their opinion of the music. These people believed what they were doing. Terry Mullins stood in a church fellowship hall in Tulsa, Oklahoma, in 1995, with a cross on the wall behind him and fourteen people in folding chairs in front of him, and screamed about darkness, and he meant every word. That is rarer than it sounds.

The recordings exist. Thirty-one cassettes of the first album, somewhere in the world. Nine confirmed copies of the second CD-R. The third album was never physically distributed — it exists on a hard drive in Terry’s apartment and on one burned CD that Dale has in his garage. Dale has confirmed the CD still plays.

Kevin sells insurance. Dale fixes cars. Bobby manages distribution. Terry works at Lowe’s. The darkness endures, in a storage unit in Broken Arrow, on a hard drive, on nine CD-Rs, and in the memory of the thirty-one people who saw the last show in Muskogee.

Terry still has the microphone.

Correspondence

Letters to the P.O. box

Letters received at the label's P.O. box. Printed as received. Ratings are the correspondents' own.

Broken Arrow, OK

I saw them at Dale’s parents’ garage. It was cold. Not Norwegian cold. But cold. They played for two hours. Nobody asked them to stop.

— Randall F.

Rating: 5 / 5

Tulsa, OK

Terry screamed so hard he knocked his own corpse paint crooked. He fixed it mid-song without missing a word. Professional.

— A Person Who Was There

Rating: 5 / 5

Tulsa, OK

Dale’s aunt Carol’s keyboard part on track four is honestly the best part of the album. She does not know this.

— Anonymous

Rating: 4 / 5

Oklahoma City, OK

I bought their cassette at a show in 1994. I still have it. It still plays. The darkness endures.

— Mike T.

Rating: 5 / 5

Tulsa, OK

Kevin leaving was a real loss. His insurance rates are also quite competitive. He is doing well.

— A Friend of Kevin's

Rating: 3 / 5

The Inner Circle

Join the Sideband Label list for recordings, shirts, and anything the archive recovers from the boxes in Broken Arrow. Correspondence is answered. Postage is not required.

Join the circleShirts & tapes

The label will not ask where you are from.

Shirt, front

The darkness endures. So does Tulsa.