Questions - a new(ish) series where we ask some people we know and admire a few questions.

Our mysterious favourite new friend, the lead singer of Beef Boys, is strangely a proponent of vernacular and esoteric language. The best musicians are. 


Name: Germ Sperman (pronounced Garem Spare-man)

Occupation: Punk.

Location: Peterborough, On Canada.

Astrological sign: Aries/ Torus [sic] cusp  (4/20).

Official URL(s): and

Favourite flower: Asters.

Favourite sports team: Not the Pittsburg Penguins.

Most overwhelming personality trait: Decisiveness. Personally I am overwhelmed by simple decisions and not simple decisions.

Last person you spoke to: Emily.

What you ate for breakfast: Cookies.

What's your favourite scent? Not Pot (4 20 unfriendly).

What inanimate object can you not live without? RocknRoll guitar.

How would you define what you do for a living? Endless Bummer/ Endless Summer/ TV. I brew beer to get money. We do Beef Boys RocknRoll to lose money, I watch TV to build my muscles back, like Adorno said. I brew beer. I have some money. I lose money to draw and make t-shirts with the Beef Boys. I lose money to make records with the Beef Boys. We put a nice little Sub&Pop and Dental Records logo on those records as a symbol for the money we lose. I watch TV and get muscles. I use muscle to get money. I use muscles and money to become a Beef Boys. We RocknRoll Beef Boys. I use the last muscle to turn on TV and watch a shark documentary.

Favourite artistic material: Tracing paper.

Ultimate, untimely dreams: Releasing a Beef Boys slab of LP wax.

What don't you do? Get excited. Have fun.

Where do you find artistic inspiration? Thinking. Inside. Outside. Ramones. Velvet Underground. Art. Homo Americanus, The Radiant Child, American Masters PBS, Richard Prince, flower children, surfers, atomic blasts, desperation, failure.

What is your current artistic obsession? Tracing.

Do you collect anything? Art work by Brian Rideout.

What is your current phone background? Jabba the Hutt in a wig.

Idea of great misery: Losing my wig or my book about wigs.

How do you wish to die? Covered in blood on a boat. Tethered to a crane on a boat. I’m somewhere off the coast of California. It’s between the months of August and October. I’m slowly lowered and dipped repeatedly, crowning the slick of chum, in the ocean. A Great White Shark bites me in half. I survive. Elon Musk turns me into a cyborg. I am his only friend. He patches me into his free net-neutral moon Internet. Sophie the AI robot goes AWOL like Skynet. I travel back in time. A man has sex with Sarah Connor. Their sex lust drives them into madness. They try to kill me. They kill me. I die.  John Connor is born in the past. I am born in the future. I travel back in time. I am back. Skynet sends a man to kill John Connor. I am the only one who can protect John Connor. I kill the Skynet man. I stop Skynet from ever being created. I am melted like a witch in molten steel so my technology from the future cannot be used to advance technologies from the past to create another timeline in which Skynet will rise.

What tabs are open on your browser right now? Gmail, Judge Judy, Nirvanna the band the show, and Netflix and not Pornhub.

Link to an image you feel most accurately represents you: 

Raymond Pettibon  Untitled (Are your motives pure?)..., 1987

Raymond Pettibon Untitled (Are your motives pure?)..., 1987