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Don't try this at home >> Sticking it to the Torture King by JOHNSON CUMMINS
"Of course it's a big compliment when people respond to the show like that, but what I'm doing is not about pain at all," explains the Torture King. "I put myself in a state of mind where I'm not feeling any pain. What I do is change the awareness of pain; to me, pain--it is just another sensation. Believe me, there's a lot of hesitation on my part when it comes to these techniques. It's very hard to get over the fear of these things. But I've been able to use something like self-hypnosis to change my awareness of what I'm feeling." When talking to the Torture King, who is known to people like his landlord or tax consultant as Tim Cridland, one is slightly put off by his mellow demeanour. He hardly seems like the character that pays the rent by sticking metal skewers through his larynx and biceps. When I suggest that maybe he should start billing himself as "The Serene, Mellow Nice Guy," the business manager in the Torture King rears its ugly head. "The name Torture King stems from the North American freak show and was obviously intended to draw people in behind the curtain. The name Torture King is the ticket seller. I'm really a fakir, which cultures other than North America know about quite a bit. North America is shocked by the fakir simply because the culture refuses to understand it." After watching ICM's late-night home education commercials, you may have noticed that they have forgotten to mention the career of Torture King alongside firearm repair and air conditioner maintenance, and my guidance counsellor in high school never mentioned it either. So how the hell do you know that your calling in life is to run thousands of watts of electricity through your body or bend white hot metal with your bare hands? "I grew up in a small town in Washington and they had this book in the library that showed pictures of East Indian acts with cobras and sword swallowing. I would just check it out again and again so my classmates couldn't read it." The Torture King also insists that he didn't just start off skewering himself with everything he could find in his kitchen drawer. Putting a blowtorch out on one's tongue or walking up a ladder of upturned razor-sharp swords with bare feet requires years of research before being attempted. "I have macho guys coming up to me all the time saying they can do what I do, but people have to understand that this takes complete focus and knowledge of the body. Most people who are going to just leap into something like walking across broken glass in bare feet are going to get cut and bleed. It's just common sense." The Torture King first gained his notoriety as a member of the only freakshow game in town, the Jim Rose Circus. Due to a difference in direction, the Torture King left Jim Rose in 1996 to start his own show. On his last stop in Montreal, when he was still a member of the aforementioned freak troupe, I noticed him doing his laundry beside me at my neighbourhood laundromat. As he divided his whites from his darks, I couldn't help but notice how incredibly regular he seemed. "I don't really go out of my way to tell people what I do for a living. When I cross a border and they ask me what my occupation is, I just say I'm an entertainer. My mother has never seen my act. I tell her I'm a fire-eater and we just leave it at that." At Foufounes Électriques, Thursday, May 21 with Dee Dee Dragon and Elasticman, 8pm, $8+taxes
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If you've ever witnessed the Torture King's human pincushion act, you might find that half the fun in witnessing these displays of pain is watching the audience. As the Torture King festoons himself like a voodoo doll, the only screams of agony will be coming from his fans. With the insertion of his first skewer, the more squeamish start dropping like flies. In the freakshow business, this act of cowardice is affectionately known as "the falling ovation," and the Torture King has seen even the most hardened people take "the fall."