“武侍乐队”三十年后：事实、神话、更多神话

When Silverhand formed Samurai, he did so as a fully-fledged artist. He knew what he wanted, and as the group’s charismatic leader, he knew how to impose his vision on the rest of the band.

The roles in the group were clearly divided. Johnny and Kerry Eurodyne were the inspired provocateurs, the continually conflicted soul of the band. Meanwhile, Henry (bass) lived in his own world, even in those rare instances when he wasn’t high out of his mind. He may never have known how good he was. Rumor had it Silverhand was sleeping with Henry to keep him in the band. Silverhand was also rumored to be sleeping with Kerry to boost the latter's morale. The truth is, Johnny was sleeping with everyone, though his heart wasn’t always in it.

Soon after Samurai’s breakup, Henry suffered a literal shock in an accident, after which he began behaving even more strangely than usual. And then, almost as if he’d been ready and waiting to jump at the chance, he hit rock bottom.

Nancy (keyboards) was the single reasonable, normal person in the group – she came to a gig, played to the best of her ability, then went home. Only thing was, her toxic, aggressive piece-of-shit husband was at home, too. He ended up tightening his grip on her enough that she left the band. Soon after, he tried to turn the screw some more, but something in Nancy snapped. She finally remembered her murky gang past, and her husband had more than enough to think about as he fell eighty floors down. After seven months spent in jail, Nancy returned to Samurai, but it wasn’t the same. In the end, she left again for good and started a new media career as Bes Isis for N54 News.

Denny, drummer and high-functioning neurotic plagued by thousands of real and imagined obsessions, was only truly herself on stage. Off stage, she spent most of her time trying to prove to herself she wasn’t as fucked up as everybody seemed to think. That’s likely why she took up with Henry – compared to him, Denny was normal indeed.

If it hadn’t been for Silverhand’s legendary hatred of managers, those slick ass-kissers who told you what to say and when, when and where you were going to play and who you had to play nice with, Samurai could have achieved much greater success. Instead, they always remained a punk alternative, icons of cool and uncompromising rebellion. One day, you can’t get into one of their gigs, the next you could walk right by a whacked-out Silverhand puking into the river. And that’s what Johnny would call true freedom, before barfing on your shoes.

Silverhand’s death was what truly launched Samurai into the realm of legend – and out of reality.