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The Messy Divorce of Waiting For God
An exclusive interview with former lead singer
Daemon Cadman
by Geoff Baumgartner
Waiting For God were a terrific female fronted industrial band from Canada.
Their first release, Quarter Inch Thick , was influential for many industrial
bands, especially ones with female vocalists. Their second release,
Desipramine , showed even more maturity, promise, and progression. I
became a huge fan. So, one day I decided to get in touch with lead singer
Daemon Cadman to ask her and her bandmates Martin Myers and Greg Price
for an interview.
When I reached her, I was shocked to discover that the band had broken
up.
Desipramine hadn't been out in the U.S. for long, but as it turns out they
had
broken up some time ago. Apparently the break-up was a less than pleasant
experience for Daemon, who as it turns out is one of the sweetest, most
modest, and bravest women I've ever had the pleasure of speaking to. As
it
turns out that her bandmate, Myers, wasn't such a nice guy. I had only
one
question for her at this point: "What happened?" The following is her account
of the things she went through. It was a painful subject for her, which
she had
not yet spoken about. I am honored that she told me the story that follows.
On a happier note, she is now in England collaborating with Jonathan Sharp
of New Mind, for his popular side-project Hexedene. They are recording
a song
for a Good-Bye Tribute to the soon to be defunct Re-Constriction Records.
Hexedene is currently without a vocalist. Is Daemon going to end up the
new
front-woman of Hexedene? I sure hope so. Anyhow, here is her story. Just
for
the record there was never any romantic involvement between Daemon
Cadman and Martin Myers.
"What happened? Start at the beginning? Of course I will, as there isn't
any
other way to begin. Unless we are going for a non-linear, David Lynch deal
on
paper...
"I met Martin Myers in January of 1993, just before my 20th birthday. He
was looking to start a project, of some sort, and a mutual acquaintance
introduced the two of us. I had been playing around with the punk thing
for
awhile, but I was always intrigued by electronic music. Even today, I don't
listen to electronic or industrial music too much, but I love to perform
it. Some
may criticize me for it, but I have my reasons. As I said, though, Martin
was
just starting to learn/play a sequencer, and he handed me two very rough
songs. I took it and two days later I handed them back to him with full
vocals
that I recorded in my basement with a four track. That was the beginning
of the
working relationship.
"So, now I finally had a project to work on, and normally, that would have
been enough to make my life happy. In this case, though, my personal life
was
in ruins. In Oct of '92, my 16-year old brother, Jesse, was walking home
one
evening when he was attacked, beaten, stabbed, and left for dead on the
side
of the road, just a few blocks away from our home. The motive for the murder?
According to the people responsible, they 'didn't like the way he looked.'
"I can't go into great detail about how my brother's death affected me
because 1) it would take an incredible amount of time to address even half
of
the stories that stemmed from it, and 2) I'm not sure I will ever be able
to fully
articulate what I went through and how much I hurt. Let's just say I was
absolutely devastated.
"So there I am, everything I had known seemed to be gone, and everything
that was there, was upside down. In walks Martin Myers. He is over 6 feet
tall
and he uses his height. He speaks very matter-of-factly, he looks you in
the
eye, and he can, at times, be very intimidating. He is very convincing,
a control
freak, and he talks tough. If I met someone like that today, I wouldn't
give them
the time of day. Back then, it seemed perfect for me. He could do all the
talking, and tell me what to do, and I will not make any decisions for
myself,
take direction, be quiet, and focus all my energy into not crying every
second
of the day. Isn't that a healthy start to a partnership?
"We agreed to be 50/50 partners, and use other musicians live. We
'borrowed' the name Waiting For God from an episode of Red Dwarf . I had
to
fight and tooth and nail to keep that band name, as Martin wanted to get
rid of
it. Funny, years go by and now he can't part with the name...
"So we started writing, he would be in charge of the music and I would
have
complete control over the lyrics and vocals. We never worked in the same
room together, as he would hand me a tape and then I would do my part.
We
never had any idea as to what the outcome would be until we actually would
go into a studio and record the vocals. The first album, which was originally
released independently and self-titled in Canada, and then later re-released
as
Quarter Inch Thick , was worked on by myself, Martin, and Tom Ferris from
Moev. Tom did all the production and was responsible for a huge amount
of the
music. Contrary to what he has said, Martin was never a member of Moev.
Tom Ferris is the only reason why there is any 'link' between Moev and
Waiting For God.
"Obviously, because I was still in emotional turmoil, the lyrical content
of the
first album was very focused on my brother. What else could I possibly
write
about at that time? The Government? Religion? Do you really think I was
able
to get outside of my own head at that time? I was desperately searching
for a
way to fix myself and to try to come to some understanding, and in the
process, maybe find a little peace.
"People have asked me if it was therapeutic to sing my songs. I honestly
can't say it was, at least not in those days. I would be sick to my stomach
before I would go on-stage, at times I did throw up. I would stand there,
center
stage and feel incredible terror because I felt so vulnerable and naked.
A few
times, I remember those shows vividly, I lost it on-stage. I cried, I'll
admit it,
though I don't think that the majority of the audience could tell. Sometimes
the
tears would just start, and actually take me by surprise. On a few occasions,
I
completely broke down when I walked offstage, though I would always run
off
somewhere to try to be alone when I did, because I was embarrassed over
the
fact that I couldn't control my emotions. I probably wasn't a very fun
person to
be around in those days, and for some sick reason, I feel like I owe some
people an apology for that.
"Years went by, and we played live shows and received modest recognition.
We toured the U.S. west coast with Numb, and did several other out of town
shows. All this time, Martin was handling the business and I was starting
to
get emotionally stronger. But a curious thing happened, and it took me
a long
time to realize exactly what it was. People started to become interested
in
what I did and they wanted to speak with me because I always kept a very
low
profile.
"Just last year, I ran into a guy that was a singer for a band that WFG
frequently performed with, and we had a nice chat about things. He informed
me that he (and a lot of others apparently) always thought I was so
mysterious. He said people in the 'scene' occasionally would wonder if
Daemon actually existed in the real world, as no one ever saw me besides
the
times I was on-stage. I found that quite entertaining and at the same time,
I
could understand why people would think that.
"Part of the reason I garnered a certain amount of attention is purely
because it's part of a lead singer's job description. Whether, I wanted
it or not,
or whether I even deserved it, has nothing to do with it. Having said that,
I
found that Martin was becoming increasingly hostile towards me. He would
do
interviews and other related events without letting me know, but that stuff
doesn't really trouble me. However, what bothers me to this day is the
personal, emotional, and mental manipulation that was used on me.
Remember that at the time he met me I wasn't in a good state. I had
absolutely no courage and the strength I did possess was focussed on just
making it through another day. I did what I was told, kept quiet, and never
questioned him.
"Well, slowly, over time, I was able to start fully functioning in this
world, and
in essence, coming out of my cocoon. [I'm] not sure if I can say I'm any
sort of
butterfly, but we'll stick with that description. I started gaining a little
bit [of]
confidence, and the fact that people were accepting me as a performer made
me feel good. Martin didn't have as much control over me any more, and
that's
when things started to get nasty.
"It would start by him criticizing my image. 'Daemon, you should really
consider wearing or changing this...' or 'Daemon, maybe you should start
working out at the gym and then you could lose a bit of weight and you
would
feel better about yourself.' He would always follow that up with a quick,
'I'm not
saying you're fat or anything.' My favorite one was, 'Well, let's face
it Dae,
you're not beautiful... I mean, you're not ugly, but you're definitely
not a
model...' Those statements, maybe don't read like horrible insults, and
maybe
they are accurate, but when you hear stuff like that for years, you start
to
believe that who you are just isn't good enough. Tapping into my own
insecurities was a way of him keeping me in line. Making sure that I never
started feeling too good about myself was a wonderful technique to prevent
me
from questioning anything he did.
"In the beginning of '96, we had new songs, and we were set to leave on
our
first cross-Canada tour. Around that time, a very close friend of mine
committed suicide, and though now I am quite resilient when it comes to
any
sort of a trauma, I was plagued with more questions that only someone who
leads a paradoxical life, like I seem to do, would have to face. Suicide
vs.
homicide... I actually had to leave after a show in Seattle, while my band
stayed there, to get home for the funeral. I wrote the song "Untitled"
for my
friend, and then we went out on the road.
"The first Canadian tour was hard for me. I was the only female with six
guys, and so that can be a little lonely, as there are certain times when
I really
felt isolated. Of course, I have a different style of communicating, and
that,
coupled with the fact that I don't indulge in the 'party and drugs' lifestyle,
meant
that I was left on my own for a good majority of that time. In regards
to drugs,
all I have to say is that I don't think my personality can handle it. I
have the gut
instinct that tells me if I were to try a drug that gave me even 5 minutes
of
absolute peace, where I don't contemplate my role in this world and I lose
my
compassion for others for even a moment, you may as well begin to make
plans for my funeral. It may sound melodramatic, but I know what kind of
person I am. I tend to be extreme with my emotions. At times, I am a
contradiction, but I either love or hate. I'm working at becoming indifferent,
but
so far I haven't succeeded.
"One major moment on that tour that I will never forget was when we were
all
sitting down for dinner after sound check, and Martin made some comment
to
me about how I should lighten up. It was all to do with my not participating
in
drug use and the like. I said something about my not wanting to be like
him,
and then he yelled at me that I had better watch my ego. I almost backed
down from him, because I sensed that I was going to really get hurt on
this
one, but I said, 'At least I don't stumble around like an idiot, nod off,
and then
puke on myself.' His response? 'At least I don't fucking cry like a little
baby
when I'm on stage...'
"The whole table was dead quiet, and I couldn't even respond. I looked
around at the rest of the guys, and none of them would return my gaze.
They
just stared at their food, and I have to admit that Martin himself looked
as
though he had realized he had hit a new low. I could be giving him too
much
credit again...
"In the summer, we recorded Desipramine , and I had a real mental
breakthrough. First off, I wrote "Positive I.D.," which is written directly
to the
person who killed my brother. That seemed to be the song that knocked down
the wall, enabling me to start writing about other things that I felt strongly
about. At that time, I was feeling pretty strong, and stopped beating myself
up
over things. I started having a lot more fun in my life, if not in WFG.
I wrote the
song "Inefficient Machine," which is a brutally honest and accurate description
of how I see myself. Who sets the standards of what is beautiful? Where
do I
fit in? It's one of the few songs I have written where I am the only subject.
I put
all the focus into questioning and explaining myself. If you think you
can
understand that song, then you may at least have a chance of understanding
me. I always got into a very strange mood when I would perform that song.
"To show you how little Martin cared about my lyrics (which is fine), I
took
shots at him in a few songs. One line, 'I will take the credit, when you
throw
the blame,' is written directly to him. 'One day we will be exposed...'
Other
people noticed, especially the way I delivered the lines live, but I don't
think he
ever did.
"We went on our second (and final, as it turns out) Canadian tour in the
fall
of '96. I had a lot more fun, because I allowed myself my freedom. My image
changed a bit, as I decided to kind of make fun of my own image that I
had
created. I called it the bad T-shirt tour, because I would buy hideous
shirts as
long as they were under $4. Chris Peterson was our sound man for that tour,
and I got along with him famously. I don't think he will ever know how
much I
appreciated him being there, and in some ways, I think I will always feel
like I
owe him. I won't get into all the details, but let's just say he was the
only
person who ever really stood up to Martin, and in a roundabout way, he
stood
up for me. He also was the only one to acknowledge the fact that I wasn't
in a
very good situation.
"On our way home, after countless dramas, I realized that Vancouver, the
final stop on the tour, was probably going to be my last show with WFG.
It
was just a feeling I had, but I refused to think about it. I didn't want
to accept
the fact that the hostility between Martin and I [was] irreparable. We
played
the show, and it went well. There was a really good crowd, and so I still
look
back on that night with fondness (at least in regards to the audience).
"There was a guy from a bigger record label at the show. Apparently, he
had
flown up from L.A. to see us, and I guess he didn't like me, at least that's
what
Martin said. Over the next few days, I was accused of 'throwing the show'
and
ruining our chances of getting the deal on purpose. To be honest, I didn't
want
the deal, but I would never 'throw' a show. Martin told me that the guy
(who
shall remain nameless, because I don't know for sure if he said all that
Martin
claims he did) said I didn't have 'star' quality. That I wasn't good looking
enough and that I was very boring. Martin said he suggested that because
I
was a good singer (the record guy at least gave me that much) that maybe
I
could do the vocals in the studio, but have someone else perform live,
in my
place. At that point, I offered to quit the band so they could find someone
else
who would do a better job. Martin said we would talk about it later.
"Time passed, we agreed that the band would be on hiatus so we could
figure out what we were going to do. When someone would approach me, I
would say the band is taking a break. Then I started hearing rumours that
I had
quit the band. I would tell people that was untrue, and they looked confused.
Whenever someone would say something about that, I would call up Martin
and ask him what was going on. He always said he didn't know why that was
being said. Once again, I said to him that if he didn't have any faith
in me as
the singer, then I would gladly walk away from everything now. He said,
and
this is a direct quote, 'Please don't do that, Daemon.' We agreed to stay
together.
"I knew I should have walked away from the situation years before all of
this
happened, but I was scared. I was scared that I didn't have anything outside
of
the band. More importantly, I wasn't able to give up my songs, my lyrics.
I still
can't really describe how possessive I am about them. I felt like I would
just be
handing them over to someone else, and I couldn't do it. Those songs are
my
babies, and so I stayed in a bad marriage for them.
"I heard more and more rumours surrounding myself, and I met with Martin
around March '97, over coffee. I questioned him about an ad for the MusicWest
conference that I saw, that had WFG listed. He told me that he and Greg
(our
drummer and main songwriter on Desipramine ) were doing a
techno/instrumental set under the name WFG. I told him that I thought it
didn't
make much sense to do that with the album being released later on that
year.
Why don't we just play as a band and promote the album. He said he wasn't
sure as to what he wanted to do. I asked him if there was something I should
know? He responded, 'No.'
"I went to the 'instrumental' show. Imagine my surprise when another woman
walks out on-stage and starts singing my songs. I watched the entire thing,
not knowing if I should have been crying, laughing, or extremely violent.
I tried
my very best to just observe, and I made damn sure that I didn't move from
my
chair, because I knew if I did, I was going to snap, and that I was going
to be
escorted out of the club in handcuffs. I always refer to that night as
viewing the
body, referring to the idea that someone can tell you that something is
dead
but you don't truly see it until you view the body.
"I haven't seen or spoken to Martin Myers since.
"They played a total of two shows without me, after which everyone walked
out on Martin. In 2 shows they went from 300+ people on a Tuesday night
(the
last show I played with them) to playing on a Friday night in a huge club...for
30 people. Do the math. We'll see if he tries to stage another 'comeback.'
"There are countless things to talk about that occurred after that point,
like
finding out about all the deception. Discovering the things that he had
told
people over the years about me. He stole money from a lot of people, including
me. He took credit for a vast majority of work that wasn't his own, and
has
consistently lied about his involvement in other people's careers. There
are a
lot of people, who even though they can not back up my account about how
I
came to be out of the band, they can fully support my statement that Martin
Myers is a con artist, a liar, a thief, a mean and malicious waste of valuable
space on this planet. I wouldn't lose a moment's sleep upon hearing of
his
demise. The only comfort I have is knowing that he is worse off than any
of us
in that he can't escape from himself.
"I accept responsibility for allowing myself to be mistreated. I stayed
around
and put up with negativity not realizing the psychological toll it was
taking on
me. I accept the fact that I made mistakes and that I was a coward. I look
back on everything and it makes sense. I got caught up in playing a role
and
not having to deal with him anymore is the best thing to have happened
to me.
I was not half the performer in WFG that I feel I could be now, because
I was
always being judged by someone on-stage who should have always been on
my side to begin with. I have forgiven myself. As for Martin? He will say
he
hasn't done anyone wrong, least of all me. He truly believes his own lies
and
will never admit to anything. Some things just can't be forgiven."