The distance between L.A. and Vancouver, BC is meaningless, for Nivek Ogre and cEvin Key are separated by not mere miles but a chasm of grief, anger and pain. The two remaining members of what was THE most influential industrial band are still coming to terms with the demise of Skinny Puppy and the death of band mate Dwayne Rudolf Goettel. The two are not speaking, at least not to eachother, but neither can stop speaking about Dwayne, the past, the record that brought Puppy to it's knees, and the slights, hurts, and bewilderment of just how this came to pass.

Today, the two are like the traumatized survivors of a seriously dysfunctional relationship-desperate to start new lives, but not yet reaching closure with their old destructive patterns. And in the reality, the dysfunction was part and parcel of Puppy; the volatile relationship between the members was, in a way, the band's core.

"The essence of Skinny Puppy was that it was a triangle," Ogre explains. "There was always two people polarized against one, to a certain degree." The result was like an abusive marriage; both parties suffered, but neither could walk away, each trapped withing a relationship of despair.

It didn't start out that way. In 1983, cEvin saw Puppy's future clearly. "I wanted to do nothing that was designed for AM radio" That was a reaction against former band Images in Vogue, a New Romantic group. Ogre was friends with another Vogue member, even though he never imagined himself a singer, he'd been writing poetry for years.

cEvin already had the band's premise-life as seen through a dog's eyes. One self-released tape later, Puppy were signed to Nettwerk. They were joined by Vogue fan Whillhelm Shroeder (aka FLA's Bill Leeb), who had a similiar interest in the more experimental side of electro-music. But things began to go wrong very quickly. The recording of Bites was overshadowed by a number of deaths in cEvin's family, while Ogre struggled to translate his poetry into lyric writing. Puppy's first tour went well enough, exept for Bill, who suffered injury and illness. But as Ogre says, "Bill was never really there anyway. When we played live, he had to be turned off, because he'd just go off and play his own thing."

Bill made clear he wouldn't tour their next record; thus entered Dwayne, whose band, water, had previously opened for Puppy. Tensions had already begun eating away at the group, but Bill's departure smoothed over the cracks.

And Dwayne's arrival opened up new Puppy vistas that are hinted at on Mind: The Perpetual Intercourse. Ogre recollects, "Here's this person coming in who's classically trained, learning techniques that Skinny Puppy are using and adding a twist to it. I think the biggest growth came after Mind."

The Mind tour went off with none of the technical hitches that plagued Puppy's first tour. By this time, their performances were already firmly centered in performance art. The whole point of this tour was to created confusion, and lower the percieved boundaries between the audience and band. It worked.

And perhaps that's what gave the band the self-confidence to produce Cleanse Fold and Manipulate. cEvin, the technician, comments that this was the time of Puppy's move from analogue to MIDI. It is worth noting that they were one of the pioneers in this field, although in these early days, they were syncing together analogue and midi. For Ogre, it was the beginning of "looking at other issues besides my own internal problems." And thus the start of Puppy taking strong stands on the state of the world, something that became integral to the band.

The Ain't it Dead yet tour would also cement Puppy's reputation as a live act. This was the first tour where the group would use the ominous superstructers that eventually filled their stage shows. Puppets, sillhouettes, and, for the grand finale, an exploding baby carriage, all made an appearance in the course of the set, leaving startled fans absolutely overwhelmed.