This is the recorded history of the band Word As A Virus from 2001 to 2004. This recording includes the original demo, the basement pre-production demo of songs for the full length, and the full length record "Moments Greater Than You or I". Also the follow up Ep we'll call "The Diamond Sea Ep" (Winter sickness/Heroin/Diamond Sea) as well as the final record simply titled "Opium" which was us squeezing out every last drop before it was truly over, as our days were numbered. Opium started with the quote "Let's just write a 30 minute long song", so that's exactly what we did, like an orchestra with movements, aria's and what have you.
All these years later, looking back, none of us really knew exactly what we were doing, but we were going with our guts. We were young, broke, and practicing in a recording studio, so we were able to document our stuff ourselves for ourselves and by ourselves. We had no label, though a few came calling, and we had no producer or engineer. We had to learn how to do it for ourselves. I've always considered these recordings very punk rock in asthetic. We left it raw, simply because raw was all we were capable of producing. Our recording skills were limited and our gear was what we had at the time, being young 20 somethings with no money to our names.

Sometimes limitations can force inovation, and it definitely forced our hands to let things be what they are. Some peoples punk rock thing is fast and aggressive. Our punk rock thing was slow and depressive. Our rebellion was shifting into second gear while it seemed like the trend was going as fast as possible in the early 2000's. Most bands around town were fast grind bands with blast beats and shrieking vocals, while we were writing sadboy melodies and staring at our shoes, while hanging our heads and writing songs that pulled at our heart strings.

Things were very emotional in the Word As A Virus camp at the time. We were young, volatile human beings experiencing something that most people don't come face to face till later in life. At times, we were at each others throats, we had fights, make ups, kicking members out, getting new members, realizing it didn't fix the problem, to eventual acceptance that the sadness has a way of compounding on top of you when you focus on it in a musical way. How could we have known as 20 year old children? We were just trying to honor our friend and give him an avenue to leave a mark on this world that he was here, and he wasn't just a flash in the pan, but a legend and a legacy in his short time on this earth.

We certainly had our detractors in our time, from people at shows yelling out from the crowd "are you guys done yet?" to people just wanting to be dicks because they couldn't mosh to our stuff, but challenging the listener was always something we felt strongly about.

Terminal illness is something that takes an entire family hostage, and we were a family in a way. We made no bones about being held hostage by it, and we accepted it as something we were going to go through together till the bitter end. Shaun Luu, to his credit, was always more concerned with how everyone else was dealing then himself. He never missed a moment to playfully yell at one of us for getting sad with a "Come on dude! Don't be a jerk. I'm gonna be mad at you if you're gonna pity me!" He was an amazing soul and the bravest person I ever met. If I had been writing about my own death, it would have been cynical and self serving, probably lashing out at the hilarious unfair nature of it all, but he made it beautiful and loving for everyone involved. You couldn't help but just want to be there with him for it all.

I had a talk with a friend who no longer lives in town, but was around for most of the goings on of the band. We were reflecting on the time period and what had transpired and I eventually just said,

"We were a part of something bigger than any of us, and we weren't even sure what the hell was happening as it was happening. We had no idea what it was or what we were even doing, but it sure was beautiful."

As for me, personally, it gave me a different perspective on death and life. It developed me into a very serious person, but it also made me take music serious, with the understanding that no one is quite certain that they will wake up tomorrow to have another day so might as well make every day count and live it like there is no tomorrow, so when the moment comes where death does smile down, I can truly smile back.

I've often told people that they don't have friends like I have friends. I never felt very close to blood family, so my friends were always more family to me than anything. The members of this band were special to me because they were the similar weirdos and rejects that weren't into the same thing everyone else was into. Musicians are usually people that aren't into the status quo, but the people in this band were even too different for the usual musicians around. We were too weird for the weird, too arty for artists, and too eccentric for most eccentrics. Somehow we found each other, and we had a tribe of like-minded people for once in our lives. When you pave your own roads, you have to move tree's and dirt yourself, and it makes you get down in the dirt yourself and really feel the fruits of your labor.

This band was always a labor of love. Not just love of music but love of friendship, and acceptance of the differences we all had in those friendships. I probably wasn't the best friend one could have at that time. I was undiagnosed bipolar and it was kinda known that I was easily irritable and a loose cannon. No one ever made me feel bad about it. In all cases, I was pretty much protected and made to feel safe. I was probably introduced as the crazy one, but Luu always championed it. "I love it. You're the most negative man ever. You're the Red Baron. It's awesome." When I came to practice, fresh out of work, not speaking and in a funk, no one said anything. They just let me be in my own world, as long as I showed up and played guitar. I've rarely been exposed to that kind of love and acceptance in my life. We were a tribe to our ownselves.

Check the info next to each song, and get a little snippet of thoughts about the time and place of writing each song, as I remember it. It was a quick 4 years of adventures and hardships. We have a lot stories to tell, from label interest "the contracts are in the mail" to independently releasing our stuff because we were tired of waiting. This was definitely our punk rock days, not musically, but asthetically. It was for us, first and foremost. It takes some guts to bum out an entire room of people, not something we did lightly.

The last show we ever played was long after we had broken up and Shaun had passed away. At a benefit fest in his honor, we reconvened for one more night and played all these songs instrumentally with a single mic stand at the center of the stage surrounded by candles. It was incredibly emotional and probably the tighest set that Word As A Virus had ever played. All members, past and present, played during the show to a crowd in a big theater in Syracuse. It was a moment in time, and a closing of a chapter in our lives, and you just had to be there to experience it. I remember very clearly, playing the last note of the last song and the music fading into silence. The crowd, at first, just stood there, and I uncomfortably started packing up cause I had thought we did something wrong. The crowd let the silence hang for a few minutes as we quietly broke down our gear and finally erupted into applause. I have never had confirmation that we had moved an entire crowd of people, like that. It was something few have experienced on a stage, I imagine, and it moved me to tears. This band meant a lot to me, and these songs were not the easiest songs to play night after night. The emotions it invoked were traumatizing at times, but it's good to now let the songs speak for themselves and let those emotions go. We weren't the best band, we weren't the tightest band, but we're up there for the title of the saddest, most intense band. We were not joking, and we were a different kind of heavy, as Luke from the band All Else Failed once graced us with the quote to our friend Jesse Dano, who now drums for them. "Word As A Virus was the heaviest band I ever saw." From one of our heroes, that was quite a compliment.

Enjoy, download as you wish. Pay nothing if you have nothing to give. It's ok. Shaun would want this music to be heard. This music belongs to the world now, not just us, so the world can take it as it likes.

- James R Bailey