Posted in Uncategorized on April 22, 2016 by jimcolemanmusic

Back in the early 1990’s, Cop Shoot Cop were given some money to make an EPK. We made this infomercial instead. We made a companion cassette for it as well, and were getting an 800 phone number where operators could be standing by. Nothing ever happened with it. I recently found an old VHS with it on there – apologies for the quality, but it’s what is available. Enjoy.

Lone Mockingbird

Posted in nature, present day with tags , , on April 19, 2016 by jimcolemanmusic

Happy it is spring, and all things come back to life. Well, most things. Some things didn’t make it through the winter and are now decaying and providing energy to those who are still standing.

Sitting outside this past weekend, I found myself serenaded by a lone mockingbird. He went on for hours. I finally located him on top of our neighbors chimney. Now I find him out there most days, singing to the neighborhood.

Overbrook Psychiatric Hospital

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , on March 25, 2015 by jimcolemanmusic

One day while taking a ike ride with my daughter I looked up and saw what turned out to be Overbrook Hospital (aka Essex County Psychiatric Hospital). We found a way in, but I had to come back on my own as she wasn’t so keen on exploring. Here is a video of one walk down the halls. Music is from my eurorack modular setup…

Solo Modular performance @ Torn Page / Speakeasy Cinema, March 2015

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , on March 23, 2015 by jimcolemanmusic

what’s going on

Posted in Cop Shoot Cop, jim coleman with tags , , , on September 17, 2014 by jimcolemanmusic

So it has been quite a while since I have posted anything on here. I’ve just had other priorities: changing the cat litter, working, doing some remixes, working on my new album, kayaking, meditating, getting pissed off at our government, religion and large behemoth corporations.

My album is going great, sounding really good. Exciting. I had planned on finishing it by end of summer, but it’s gotten delayed. If you want to have a listen to a rough:

In the meantime, I have been producing a record by Eleanor Bostwick, also very exciting. Here’s a sample of her stuff:

And I’ve been printing some bumper stickers just to piss off the religious right:




If you are interested in any of these, let me know, and I’ll get them to you.

In other news, apparently Cop Shoot Cop is scheduled to play in the nation’s capital (that would be Washington DC) on October 23rd. Thanks to Chris X for flagging it for me. Guess we better start rehearsing. Kidding, I don’t think any of us know about this, plus I’ll be working in Las Vegas at that time.


Reincarnation of The Children…

Posted in Uncategorized on March 26, 2014 by jimcolemanmusic

Reincarnation of The Children...

The Children… return on 4/12/14. Michael Weiner on Vox, Jim COleman on modular synths, various noise and sound generators and manipulators, french horn, melodica and occasional vox, and Phil Puleo on dulcimer, kalimba, band various objects that he hits with sticks.

Also playing: Norman Westberg and Eleanor Bostwick.

Guaranteed to delight.

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , on March 26, 2014 by jimcolemanmusic



Oh my God!



I tend to get depressed

Instead of getting angry,

but I can still hate.

And so at a young age

I hate God

And I hate Religion

And I despise

All those stupid motherfuckers

Who believe

In god.

I mean,

Jesus fucking Christ

Are you kidding me?

Some fucking patsy died for my sins?


I’m  7 or 8 years old

in Virginia

It’s  a warm day

and the light filters in

to the church

as I shit on the floor.

Not one witness

To my disdain, distaste and venom.

My hatred is alive.

And I say Fuck You!

But I’m not angry.


What I sadly come to understand

Years later

Is that act of hatred,

my big statement,

my scatological venom

that I leave  steaming on the church floor

Has no effect on god

No effect on religion

No effect on  the church.

The only one affected by this shit

Is pushing the mop.

The poor janitor

who has to clean it up.

So, dude,

I apologize

on bended knee. Seriously.

I meant you no wrong.

I’d clean up your shit today

If it would make up for it…


3 years later

and my friend Jim

just doesn’t show up for school one day.

Turns out

He  just stopped living –

Ceased to exist


Died in a car wreck

The night before

Wrapped around a tree

with his brother

who was driving

and who survived

and how the hell

does he live with that?


I’m at a loss as to

how to live with it.

How to make sense of it.

Shit don’t make no sense.

There’s a big gaping whole

Where once there was my friend.


There’s no one I can talk to

Not my family

Not my friends.


I pick up the bible

And find another book of stories

That aren’t too easy to read

For an 11 year old

looking for some answers

To some big fucking questions.


But there are no answers

So I’m left at a loss

And  keep this locked inside

Until right now

And though it never makes sense

I slowly come to accept

that loss and death

are part of life,

just as life is part of death.

And it’s only in our minds

That they separate

only in our minds

do they become opposites,

staring each other down

across the void of intellect.


Looking for answers

Of a spiritual nature

And finding none,

I soon find the next best thing.

Sweet baby jesus.

I find spirites.


And so begins the fight

Of and for my life.

Because the spirits

And the powders

And the gasses

And the grasses

And the tablets

And the smoke

And the rocks

And the liquids –

They all give me relief.

They don’t give me answers.

They just make the questions go away.

They Give life meaning

And they take it away.


As more and more

people around me start dying

From these spirits

I end up feeling

That the friends

I lose along the way

are the lucky ones

because they found a way out.

And I’m still stuck

Here in this god forsaken place.

This place with no god damn answers.


Don’t get me wrong,

It’s not all doom and gloom.

Not all Sabbath, Bloody Sabbath.

I have lots of fun along the way.

Like James Brown said, I feel good.

Sometimes the light of the spirits

Fills my being.

And at times I live for the

Darkness of despair.

Because it feels so true and honest.


I find the joy

of having sex

In church

Somehow there is a special thrill

Of fornicating in the pews

Or in the choir area

Specially with Donna,

Who was brought up

A good catholic girl.


Donna has snakes at home.

2 nine foot boa constrictors

When I sleep over

in Forest Hills

I wake up in the morning

To find the 2 boas curled

Under my head.

Donna and I eat apples

For breakfast.


In the mid 90’s

I’m Snatched out of

This god forsaken place

Some would say by god

But not me

I have to call it

A family intervention.


Whatever it is,

My cycle

Of destruction stops.

Destruction of self and others


Destruction of morals and mortals

Destruction of ideals and beliefs

Destruction of history and future

My destruction of everything in my path…..stops.


And though I no longer

Shit on church floors

Or fuck like a pagan

as jesus looks on,

I still stay well clear

Of anything that hints

Of god, religion, or spirit.

I place my trust

in machines

And the smell of sweat.

I have faith

In Human toil and turmoil.

In the asphalt under my feet.


Years go by.

I become things

I never would have imagined.

And I become happy.

For a while.


But eventually I find myself

Yearning for that familiar hell

Missing the seeming truth

Of despair


My sanitized life

Seems like a ruse

A fiction

And I convince myself

that the sad truth is

I wasn’t born

To be happy.


I was born

To live life on the edge

I was born

To be on the edge

The edge of suicide.


That’s what feels true

So I open that door once again.

3 years later

while contemplating

the distance

from the Tappan Zee Bridge

to the water below

I fall apart

I fall right in to god

Right through god

Though I didn’t call it that

At the time


Fragmented in to little pieces

Like the sun glistening on the Hudson

Sobbing, shaking

I realize with a smile

I’m just a tiny fucking speck

Just Here for a second…


In five minutes

My fear departs

Fear I’ve held for a lifetime

Fear that was in my marrow

Fear that I was taught as a kid

Fear that felt so fucking real

Fear that kept me safe

It just dissolved in to smoke

And I was held


And now I know

Whatever happens

It’s okay.

When loved ones die

When I die

When the dirty bomb hits the city

When birds fall from the sky

When the tea party takes over

And when the ice melts and the seas rise

It’ll be okay.


All my plans

My designs

My desires

My wants

Don’t matter at all.


Relief. Finally some fucking relief.


I’m still allergic

To the patsy who dies for my sins,

Still allergic

To any religion that wages war

In the name of god,

Still allergic

To those saying

Thank god my god is god

Still allergic

To any religion that says

we have the right to

weapons of  mass destruction

and you don’t.

Still allergic

To the whole us vs them

Mentality of separation

That underlies all dogma.

Still allergic

To right wing right for lifers

Still allergic

To televangelists

Praying for you

To send them your money

Still allergic

To god fearing Christians

Cause fear doesn’t have a place in this.


So I find

That once again

I don’t get answers

And the questions

Have been revealed

to be unanswerable.

And honestly,

I’m relieved.




Cop Shoot Cop: Seattle Video

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , on October 12, 2013 by jimcolemanmusic

Freed from the vaults. An old video for “Seattle”, from Ask Questions Later (Cop Shoot Cop). I didn’t even know this existed! Enjoy. I promise I will write more words soon.

LAck of Security

Posted in Phylr, Uncategorized on September 26, 2013 by jimcolemanmusic
Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing.
Helen Keller

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

Posted in Uncategorized on June 26, 2013 by jimcolemanmusic

Today I am bald. This wasn’t always the case. I actually like being bald. My head feels nice and cool and smooth. But sometimes I miss the days of hair. I recently found some pictures of me back in these days:

cripple passport photo

This one was from an old passport. Surprised they let me in to any country with this. I had a number of Passport control agents tell me that my passport was too mangled. It was still valid, but the picture was cracked and falling apart. I remember getting this photo & passport hours before leaving to Japan with Cop for our first tour outside the US. I had been up for 3 days. We almost missed the plane because I was waiting for the last drop of drugs, which in those days I didn’t think twice about bringing on the plane. I think I hid it all in my sock. The problem was that when we left on tour, no matter how many drugs I brought along, I would inevitably run out within a few days. Then I would be in this dark sick place for 23 hours a day, where everything was bleak. But that 24th hour, the one when we were on stage, was brilliant. It was like sun through a magnifying glass. Playing live was like electricity. It was nice when I finally stopped my chemical romance, I found that this electricity could be tamed, controlled, and brought in to the ebb and flow of my daily life, though it was still inevitably amped up when performing.


This photo was taken in an apartment in Washington Heights. I was living up there for a while with Reid (on the left). She came out of the Haight Ashbury San Francisco post hippie heavy drug life, had gotten her shit together to some degree and was a waitress at The Whitney Museum. She drank though. A lot. She saw what I was, a functioning addict (if there really is such a thing). And she wanted to save me, I think. She ended up teaching me to drink, while I ended up getting her back in to hard drugs. It’s like gravity: it’s always easier going down than up. We both ended up getting out of that lifestyle around the same time, though we were no longer together by then, and we had different paths. I have often wondered what happened to Reid, and have reached out once or twice to try to get in touch. Always a dead end. Reid, if you are still alive and reading this, let me know.

csc option 1

This was a picture from an article in Option magazine. I was too messed up to make the scheduled photo shoot. Natz, Phil and Tod did the shoot with just the 3 of them, plus a number of photos with an old homeless career drinker from the Bowery. We all thought it was a good idea to run those photos and name him Jim. But that ultimately didn’t happen, so I had to have a separate photo shoot. I was pretty ragged and gaunt by this point. I remember the photographer talking to me about how she understood me. Never quite coming out and saying, “You are totally fucked up”, but making ongoing cloaked statements. I don’t know if she wanted to get high with me or if she wanted to save me. But I never fessed up, never got honest with her or myself.


One last big hair picture. Reid is here again. She went on a few tours with us to sell Merch. My old friend Clay is here, with an old girlfriend of his whose name I can’t recall. I think we were in Europe here, I can’t remember where. I apologize for making this my online photo gallery, but I happened to run in to these pictures and wanted to put them up here, along with their associated memories, before it all goes black.