- "Friday Night at the Death Club" 08.01.01
Friday Night At
The Death Club #10
All right, Im sending out an APB to anyone in the San Francisco area who plays, or knows someone who plays the drums and wants to be in the new line up of DETOX POLICE. More importantly though, KILL THE HIPPIES is on their first tour West of the Mississippi. Please go out and support them if they roll through your town. Heres the schedule:
(All Dates are in
And with that listed, lets get on with it.
Get on with what? Well, I guess the continuous hurling of our lives through space and time. The world moves under our feet as, like a record, we spin around the fucking sun. And we barely notice except for taking note of when its time to go to bed and to get out of bed. Why do we do all of this? We dont know. Sure, theories abound, but Im not one of those booky people. I really cant base my life and happiness on any book, albeit it Jibran, Dostoevsky, God, Rollins, or any of that (or those), shit(s). I am a human being. Human beings are selfish. Human beings dont listen. Yes- I am human. I just need to figure it out or not, and listen to my friends and stuff. Like I said, I am selfish and self absorbed. I think my friends know me better than dead people do, so there! As my Dad always said, "You are your friends." Fine, then Im my friends. Theyre a reflection of me too then, and that cant be all bad sweet cheeks. Fuck it- Im a human animal, and you people all think too much, or too little. Things dont get done by thinking, they get done by doing (things).
So now its time to hurt. People- I hurt people. Its because I hurt. Thats on the selfish side of town. Why? Cause they dont listen to rappers- people dont keep it real. Theyre assholes, people are. They make me cry. If I was alone, fighting wildcats and sinning, psychotic wild dogs on this globe, I wouldnt hate. I would live, then. I would survive. Thats what some human beings have in them that I find to be their greatest attribute- when it comes down to just you and me, theres no more you- sorry. Thats the fucking eye of the tiger. My best friends have the eye of the tiger. I really dont lately- Ive become a big city, what can these people do for me if I can only find a way to break into their hot set, sissy. Thats over. Our generation here in the United States doesnt have to survive very much. That statement will draw a lot of flak from people at me, but most people Ive met in such situations picked drugs over regular life, and not the other way around. I quit doing drugs and drinking for a week recently just to make sure I could- I can. Im not soft. Ive dedicated my life to this mic of steel. Dont feel sorry for me.
So now we get to punk rock. God, I fucking love punk rock. A lot of people like to use it for their own purposes, and then they use garage rock when that fits, or this, new wave, metal, mod, that and the other. I dont do that. I love punk rock. End of story. Perfect night for me- a quick (sic) talk with the Shark (aka Power Animal Polar Bear Shaun Riverboat Surfing By Night CPL. Motherfucker, the Viking), tons of beer, and all night Pack. Sorry- thats my life. Replace Pack with Pagans- fine. Replace your judgments with what you fucking do thats dirty, wild, beer soaked, and threatening to destroy or kill itself trying. Thats me. Thats my life. Im not bragging- Its half embarrassing. I cant even get in with skins or bristles punks or whatever- they hate me. I hate Special Duties. I dont wear leather jackets unless its really cold. But I never wear shorts. That aint punk rock.
Maybe punk rock isnt always the freshest head of lettuce. Maybe sometimes, thats your own fault. I dont like the underground being the new residing place for rock and blues and dreck. Please, will you people make it back into a mind-fucked trash net for me to latch onto when I fall in my darkest hours? Please. Or at least just make it aggressive again, at least. Im--- living in the 80s.
Class One Head Cases.
Class one attitude. Outside Had to go to work-- frenzy. The apocalypse of toxic waste nightmares crushes the life out of talk and walk and concrete and pavement streets. I looked up into the sun and stared hard and long until I began seeing spots. Suddenly, a ripple a pain shot through my head, all of my thoughts melted and began pouring out of my ear onto my jean jacket, then the ground. A dog wearing a sweater and a beret sauntered up to me, and began lapping up my brain off of the sidewalk. I shoed it away, kneeled down, and began trying to lick up some of the goo myselfI didnt want to be stupid. All my brainpower though soaked into my lower portions. Suddenly, all I could think about was pizza, beer, and masturbation. As I looked at the dog, I realized that he had just stolen all of my good ideas. Still wearing the beret, he took off down an alley.
Sprinting with all I had, I chased the mutt. The dog stopped running. I walked up to it.
"You have some pretty tasty thoughts," the dog said.
"Whats your name?" I asked.
The dog explained that his name was Larry, and that he was sorry- he thought Id dropped food. Now though, he was cursed with the thoughts that constantly plagued me. I on the other hand felt free in my ignorance. I still had some thoughts though, as Id shoved a chunk of an UGLY KID JOE flyer in my ear to stop the flow of brain from the right ear orifice. So we talked for a while. Larry told me all about myselfstuff I didnt know anymore. I was shocked to learn how complicated I made things for myself in the past. I suggested we go get pizza and beer, so we did, and then went back to my pad. Larry played a bunch of my records for memy favorites. I now had a new appreciation for them. Larry seemed to really like them too, and we stayed up all night drinking and smoking cigarettes.
I woke up the next morning. Was it all a dream? But sure enough, there was Larry running up my long d. bill talking to his bitches. It was ok with me though. Larry taught me a lot that previous night, and continued to teach me. We now wear matching berets and have switched to cigars. We ended up catching that UGLY KID JOE reunion show, too. It wasnt very good. Meeting him was great. We now make tons of money from donations running an amnesty for Gary Busey web site. Gary Busey is totally fucking awesome.
Turntable Of Despair- The High Decibel Killers.
Ten columns into my stint here at Blank Generation, I still like to end with a quote from Lemmy Kilmeister. A lot of people might not understand what it is--- its not a joke.
The year was 1975. A child was being born- me. Another point of interest, was the firing of one Mr. Lemmy (Why doncha lemme a fiver) Kilmeister from the psychedelic band HAWKWIND. Rumor is that they left him in Canada. Lemmy decides to start a band called BASTARD, by design, the loudest, rudest, lewdest, crudest band ever. Lemmy on bass, Larry Wallace on guitar, and Lucus Fox on drums. By the end of the year, Phil "Filthy Animal" Taylor was in the drum seat. "Fast" Eddie Clarke was then added, and during a "scrutinizing" audition, Larry Wallace was then gone- not enough heart I suspect. By 1977, the self titled LP was finished.
So now you have "Fast" Eddie and "Filthy," but then it always comes back to Lemmy. I feel that a better name for MOTORHEAD wouldve been MOTHERFUCKER. Take the music. Until that time, no one played the bass like Lemmy. I play the bass. Thats why. Lemmy plays the bass like a guitar. He plays it louder than everything else. He plays it like a motherfucker. He plays it through a Marshall stack. He plays it to kill you. He plays it to save his life. But maybe hes playing it to save all of our lives. Do you ever wonder why he still plays it? Well, hanging out with bikers, drinking whiskey, doing coke, and writing songs like "Ace Of Spades" and "Iron Fist" doesnt come with a retirement plan. Actually, it does- death.
Vocally, Lemmy sounds like a real motherfucker, that growling, gnarled, horse belt of passion- "Thats the way I like it baby I dont wanna live forever!" If thats not a "fuck you" to everyone, what is? Hes gonna live out his curse on this planet the way he wants, but he doesnt want to have to deal with you fucks any longer than necessary. If you dont believe it, check out his mic stand when he plays. Its seven feet in the air- he can only look down at all of you. Thats nothing else but Rock and Roll. Lemmy is a motherfucking Rock and Roller. Look at him.
Physically, Lemmy looks like a motherfucker. Who else could make a fashion statement out of giant moles? No one- just Lemmy. Jean jackets, iron crosses, and tit bar t-shirts. Do you ever wonder if that bullet belt, forever around his waist, is filled with live ammunition? I do. I bet it is. Did you ever look into his eyes? Hes gone. Rock and Roll.
And thats what MOTORHEAD means to me. MOTORHEAD isnt a punk rock band, and theyre not a thrash metal band or whatever else- theyre a Rock and Roll band. MOTORHEAD smokes cigarettes. MOTERHEAD does speed, and MOTORHEAD drinks whisky all day long. And it doesnt kill them. You know why? Because they dont care if it does or not. When they die, they will only be Killed By Death. White Line Fever!
So here it is. Its my pleasure to tell you about this 7". This is an officially licensed (From Skydog) version of the "Leavin Here"/ "White Line Fever" 7", complete with heavy cardboard jacket and silver on black MOTORHEAD poster for your living room, kitchen, boudoir. MOTORHEAD/ ENGLAND--- get one.
But what do we have here? Mr. Kenny has a few more records for all you fucks this month, and hopefully Ill have my new radio show done pretty soon and then you can hear some stuff off of them. This aint gonna be too long though- this time.
Golden Zombies "The
24 Kilate Sound" 10"
"Breaking The Curse" CD
Street" LP/ Pagans "Pink Album" LP
V/A "Viva La
Vinyl Vol. #4" LP
Rod Stewart "1964-
Putting out a bunch of new records, getting ill, listening to NERVOUS GENDER, and I am done- until next time. Keep your eyes peeled for Shaun Abnoxious, Joe "Frenchy" Domino and my new label On/On Switch. Our first release is slated for September. Drum rollTHE PIRANHAS 12" and 7" will now be available on CD. Keep on the look out for the new Rocknroll Blitzkrieg PIRANHAS 7" too, which is everything but officially out. On/On Switch has a bunch more on the plate after that-- in an effort to inject aggressiveness and psychotic dynamics back into punk rock, we will be spending the next year searching out bands outside of the loop that are disgusting, different, and willing to play tons of shows all over the place. Get in touch. Email me if you need a mailing addressthe PO box will be ready Friday. Like Dr. King said we shall overcome.
© blankgeneration.com 2003