The Taikonauts “Mysteriis Alienis Mundi”

TaikonautsIt seems like I hear about a new French surf music band every two weeks these days! The TAIKONAUTS don’t dress as cosmonauts or sci-fi creatures, they chose the classy black and white Reservoir Dogs look instead, but just like most other bands in the style, they use vintage movie samples and probably worship Dick Dale every day before breakfast.
The TAIKONAUTS are not a new band though, they released their first album “Surf Music From Outer Space” 3 years ago, and offer us 14 new instrumental songs that should be able to make you dance all night long, because as good as it is, surf rock is live music before all. The CD comes out in a nice retro/50s sci-fi looking digipack , and the vinyl version probably looks even better!
Track titles such as “S.S. Conspiracy”, “UFO Stomp”, “Fatal Radiation Overdose” or “Mexico Deluxe” should be enough to make you check The TAIKONAUTS out… If you like traditional surf music spiced with modern energy, then you need to get “Mysteriis Alienis Mundi.”/Laurent C.

Squarecrow “B Sides”

coverThis band from San Diego can do magic tricks: They will take you back to the late 90s/early 00s without staying glued to the past. 6 punk rock songs full of guitar melodies/vocal harmonies in a HOT WATER MUSIC/JAWBREAKER way, and choruses made for singalongs (“Dysania”, “Via Cadore.”)
While SQUARECROW sometimes seem to flirt with pop punk/skate punk (“Wayside” -reminding of the great BOSS MARTIANS-, “Colored Red”), you’ll also hear some cool and surprising sunny 60s/mariachi influences in “Barbra” as well as some rockabilly ones in “3 Weeks” that add a lot to the band’s identity.
This is a bit weird that SQUARECROW isn’t more famous, and touring the world right now. Just listen to these songs, and you’ll probably come to the same conclusion./Laurent C.

Manic Street Preachers “Rewind The Film”


(-review by Geordie Pleathur)

“I have two rules in life – to hell with it, whatever it is, and get your work done. You have to know how to accept rejection and reject acceptance.”
(-Ray Bradbury)

“I’ve never understood why CONservatives despise the idle poor, but worship the idle rich.”
(-Peter Crowley)

“The hardest job I ever had in this country was being a homeless person with no money. ”
(-A. Razor)

“Yesterday’s weirdness is tomorrow’s reason why.”
(-Hunter S. Thompson)

“The Tea Party is low hanging fruit—Sarah Palin, Ted Cruz, Michelle Bachman were all literally invented by the Empire as persons for the “left” to loathe and ridicule as Obama and Hillary serve these purposes for the “right.” Can we focus on the root and quit hacking at all these branches? The only reason I ever mention any of these people is to point out the hypocrisy and fraud of the Empire.”
(-Cindy Sheehan)

“We are not good at anything else anymore… can’t build a decent car or a television, can’t give good education to the kids or health care to the old, but we can bomb the shit of out any country…”
(- George Carlin)

“First the terrorism-industrial complex assured Americans that they were only spying on foreigners, not U.S. citizens…Then they assured us that they were only spying on phone calls, not electronic communications. Then they assured us that they were not spying on American journalists. And now both [major political] parties and the Obama administration have assured us that they will not detain journalists, citizens and activists. Well, they detained journalist Chris Hedges without a lawyer, they detained journalist Laura Poitras without due process and if allowed to stand, this law will permit the military to target activists, journalists and citizens in an unprecedented assault on freedom in America.”
(-Carl Mayer)

“Rebels have always been a small minority of the young, even in the 1960s. A lot of the men were in college to escape the draft and being sent to Vietnam. People did turn out for occasional large peace marches, but in between most of the organizing was done by a small number of people, while the rest of the young focused on getting their degrees and qualifying (they thought) for the middle class. Which does not rebel because it’s too comfortable. And because they don’t know anything, including the college graduates.”
(-Lynn Porter)

“What you do speaks so loud that I cannot hear what you say.”
(-Ralph Waldo Emerson)

“There is not even a lone voice of dissent straining to be heard over the chest-thumping, war drum-banging, and jingoist palaver within the self-referential bubblescape of the U.S. corporate media. Nor, it seems, is there a member of the political class, who is endowed with any political power or clout, who even holds a scintilla of deference regarding the will of the people — the vast majority of… whom stand overwhelmingly opposed to U.S. military involvement in the Syrian civil war.

Yet: The machinery of empire trundles towards war, as the media truckles to authoritarian power on bended knee and promulgates a 24/7 propaganda campaign in its behalf. Why is this so? The populace of empire sups on the blood of the colonized, thus empire’s operatives feel zero need to garner our consensus regarding how empire is sustained. They believe that they have the public’s implicit support, so there exists no need for consultation; we have granted the elites the power to wage war by the plebiscite of our appetites, by our feelings of entitlement insofar as maintaining our way of life.

The nation’s elite, unlike the toxically innocent general public, possess the ruthlessness to be frank with themselves: They know that the soil of empire is fertilized by blood, its gaudy, bloated mansion is constructed upon a mountain of corpses. But they will never publicly admit to such a thing; no one will who is allowed to be part of the mainstream dialog would dare to venture such an utterance. To even ever such a thought would be cause for instant and permanent banishment.”
(-Phil Rockstroh)

“School is the advertising agency which makes you believe that you need the society as it is.”
(-Ivan Illich)

“What sphinx of cement and aluminum bashed open
their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?
Moloch! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the
stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men
weeping in the parks!
Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the
loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy
judger of men!
Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the
crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of
sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgment!
Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!
Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose
blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers
are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo!
Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!
Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows!
Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long
streets like endless Jehovahs! Moloch whose factories
dream and croak in the fog! Moloch whose
smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!
Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch
whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch
whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch
whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen!
Moloch whose name is the Mind!
Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream
Angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in
Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!
Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom
I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch
who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy!
Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch!
Light streaming out of the sky!
Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisible suburbs!
skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic
industries! spectral nations! invincible mad
houses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs…”
( –Excerpt from Howl, Allen Ginsberg )


“Feeling a bit of cognitive dissonance today between twerking, Miley Cirus’ pathologically-desperate-MSM-fuelled-need-for-attention, Chelsea Manning, Syria, chemical weapons, and a nation that has seriously lost its moral high ground between Iraq, secret rendition, torture, GTMO, and the NDAA. I feel stretched to extremes inside, and a little bit hollow. It’s hard to be sane, while living in an insane time. I just want to remind myself, and others, that it’s ok if you feel rather odd today. Or regularly.”
(-Tangerine Bolen)

“A whistleblower who exposed US war crimes just got sentenced to more jail time than murderers, slave dealers, and people who sell nuclear weapons to terrorists.”
(-Abby Martin)

“I don’t even know what American liberalism is anymore in the era of Obama. I don’t know what set of principles and beliefs they’re adhering to when you see so many liberals on a network like MSNBC lashing into people like Edward Snowden and defending the NSA. I don’t understand what liberalism is when they’re defending endless drone warfare. It really seems to me like Obama has dragged liberalism along with him and dragged it into this kind of abyss where it’s become hollow.”
(-Max Blumenthal)

“I was a top student in college. They feed the egos of such people until their sense of identity depends on being smart and they equate smart with being able to regurgitate official academic explanations of everything, for the ‘benefit’ of the ‘un-educated’, of course. Advanced indoctrination is a difficult handicap to overcome. It’s basically the ‘teacher’s pet’ syndrome internalized and carried beyond the school walls– easy to see past if you’re not the one– difficult to get over if you are.”
(-Martin Truther)

“The sentencing phase of Manning’s trial revealed that contrary to the claims of pundits and politicians, Manning had no blood on his hands — the Departments of Defense and State were unable to tie his releases to the deaths of any U.S. informants…”
(-The Young Turks host, Cenk Uygur)

“A man searching for paradise lost can seem a fool to those who never sought the other world.”
( Jim Morrison)

“The blood-sodden Neo-Con agenda trundles forth, with Syria in the crosshairs, and Iraq and Libya reeling in the kind of tumult and terror required for the imperial plundering of a nation’s resources by ruthless, foreign interlopers.

Empire’s nasty, little secret: Denied of the militarist-enabled stealing of resources,… the U.S. empire would collapse within weeks. This is why it is essential that the minds of the rabble (that would be you and I) on the homefront remain colonized. A collective sociopathic mode of mind must be maintained. The knowledge that the structure that sustains what is termed our lifestyle is, in reality, a deathstyle that could cause members of the general population to have a bit of difficulty swallowing their hormone-bloated, antibiotic-ridden slabs of animal flesh at family outings at their local Applebees. First, as a starting course: What is required swallow whole the lies of empire.

For example, crackbrained casuistry, such as the following: Those will be humanitarian bombs tearing to shreds the bodies of Syrians when the U.S. Military makes its move on the nation. Sure thing, bestowing humanitarian values are the abiding concern of the leadership of imperial powers. The people of Iraq would simply love to testify as to the beneficence of the forces that invaded and occupied their nation. Strange isn’t it, that no one, possessing power and influence, in the U.S. seems interested in soliciting their opinion on the matter?”
(-Phil Rockstroh)


IMG_5565_ALEX_LAKE_0America has no visible artists like the Manic Street Preachers, perhaps they could have had some, before the media consolidation, but now, all our would be gutter-poets, prophets and whistle blowers are wearing hairnets and sandwich artist golf shirts and trying not to get fired from Subway and Arbys. Our entire controlled media is corrupt. Industry has captured the regulatory agencies. The medical establishment might as well be the mafia and no one wants to face it until it’s there own grandma who dies because of naked malpractice, otherwise suffering some bad side effects (the ones everybody now knows from, for example). University campuses harbor torturers and war criminals like John Yoo and David Patraeus and war machine recruiters have invaded our gutted public elementary schools.
Congressional approval rating was only 6% in June. Psychologists tell us that about 6% of the population are sociopaths, while war profiteer-owned big-media claims that 9% of Americans are pro war in Syria/Iran/Etc., so you gotta figure in that six percent, plus another three percent probably comprised of private mercenary families, military brass, weapons building families and big-oil shareholders, but my gut says even that 9% statistic is high. Nobody wants America to spill more blood in the middle east for G.E., B.P., Exxon, Halliburton, Raytheon, and Lockheed Martin, but the orders have already come down from the chain of command, from high above Obama.
Besides the willfully and diligently uninformed, soy chai tea latte sipping, Prius drivers who believe you affect positive change by wearing shoes shaped like your toes, juicing, and sitting on pink pillows, oh so many of us understand we now live in a full fledged, clampdown, Beyond Orwell, Beyond Kafka, fascist surveillance, war horny, police state; where graffiti artists can be tasered to death over the price of a coat of paint. For writing the letter “r”. Thugs will laugh and high-five over his body fully certain that the cop union will protect their jobs while rightwing state radio does a number on the victim’s good name.
Cops use military grade chemical weapons on peaceful demonstrators and get paid forty thousand dollars for the stress of the negative publicity. Secret agents search every cavity, it’s stop and frisk, non-stop. Everyone is demoralized, except for those in dedicated flight from reality; or these eager blue-gloved and badged participants of state violence—the steroid drunken tough guys who use pain compliance holds on waifish, peaceful protesters, fire-fighters and seniors, who are assembling in public spaces and standing up for their pensions; and public schools, standing up for THEIR right to organize, standing up for the right to know what’s in their food, but the chairs are on the table for democracy. Dennis Kucinich tried to impeach the Bush administration, so they gerrymandered him out of office. Dr. Cornel West has said that justice allows suffering to speak. Ever since the Bush gang’s corporate coup de tat and the Murdoch media-grabs, loudmouthed liberals like the Dixie Chicks or Sean Penn are relentlessly pummeled by the Ann Coulter whores for war, while belligerent blowhards for fascism and state violence are reWARded with cushy jobs in bullshit broadcasting. Rich people treat the rest of us like objects.
Female academics can still speak sometimes, as long as they keep to the approved script of gun control, gay marriage and abortion, but otherwise, the lower classes are kept away from the microphones, and expected to stay quiet in our little boxes, or face the wrath of the Pinkerton brutes. The middle-class has been trained by their universities and cable brainwashing subscriptions to identify with tyrants and slave owners and blame the poor for the crimes of the rich. Only property is sacred. In Columbia SC, homelessness is illegal. In Raleigh NC, it is now illegal to feed the poor. Diane Feinstein wants to narrowly define a journalist as a paid flack for war-state propaganda. She also wants to make it a crime to say anything critical about the NSA spying. Teacher’s salaries are tied to standardized testing in over-crowded class-rooms, while oligarchs install overpaid administrators to slash funding for public schools, lay-off employees, and scapegoat educators. This push to privatize is a fully bipartisan effort on behalf of the plutocrats who shape our destinies-the Koch brothers and AIPAC. Bill Gates, the Heritage Foundation, CFR, and Rahm Emanual. The Walton family and the shadowy ALEC business group, who writes the nation’s laws. Rahm Emanual closed sixty schools in minority neighborhoods and is building gigantic sports stadiums and prisons, and sic’ing his uniformed goons on students and teachers, exactly like Koch whore, Scott Walker, in Wisconsin. He gives raises to cop brass willing to oppress their community. We live in a society that allows one man to make fifteen million dollars A DAY while a low-income mother gets $4.50 for food, and much of Congress and many of your own misinformed friends wants to slash the $4.50.


With more and more of our most vulnerable and powerless citizens being typecast, slandered, demonized and disenfranchised, with the bully culture mass-media, lack of jobs, foreclosures, cuts to food-stamps nation wide, the bulldozing of community recreation centers, the greed of all the juicer-crazy, ex liberal, yoga mat homeowners who refuse to rent to low income families on government assistance, the planned absence of affordable housing in a post-Nafta, deindustrialized war economy, with frequent police attacks on Food Not Bombs and other charities who nurture, feed, and advocate, on behalf of our meekest populations, people are feeling the fear.
The drone lobbies are instructing the corporate media not to use the word drone. Talk-radio trains the enforcer class to talk tough, and indiscriminately “intimidate and dominate”(Viper team TSA motto) like the Nuge and Bill O’Reilly. The Pentagon is staffed by war machine lobbyists and Raytehon lawyers, who keep gifting local law enforcement with these gigantic tanks and Lrad weapons of war that all have “Rescue” painted on the side! Even ex punks spew hateful venom at the vulnerable populations while sucking up to fascists and white collar criminals. As a pal of mine says, if you want to do a lot of cocaine, you have to wear very expensive, pin-striped clothing and own a fine time-piece, because only poor kids with small amounts go to jail. But the criminal class in office have promised their private prison shareholders with manufacturing contracts a fresh wave of “new offenders”. Cops are registering croc-wearing college dude partiers who urinate outside of crowded festival porta potties as sex offenders at Burning Man.
I warned you ten years ago they would come also for the middle class. We’re seeing hundreds of armored vehicles being moved around the so-called homeland. Rabid enforcer class bureaucrats and frothing monsters call for violence against advocates and activists for the poor and still call themselves “Christians”. Uniformed hard-ons will mace and taser anyone, indiscriminately at most anytime, but generally, if you look rich, or drive a newer vehicle, they give you a wider berth. The rich can drink in the streets at sidewalk cafes and craftbeer stocked coolers at summertime softball games in the parks and at their drunk-driving, tailgate parties, and out-of-town vendor, summertime wristband public-intox orgies. A poor person with an unapproved beverage in a brown bag on a hot day, gets twelve cops responding to the scene to mace and cuff him for open container and always the bogus resisting arrest. Local office professionals see no problem with this. Ten thousand raging football fans drunk and shirtless, screaming, fistfighting? They call that All-American. A couple of dreadlock hippies sharing a joint under a tree? The police state calls that criminal, a justification for a beatdown and arrest. Honor students asking war pigs like Kerry and Patraeus uncomfortable questions on university campuses? Tasers, beatdowns. Punk rockers questioning classist bigotry spewed by rightwing punks? Avalanche of hate mail from fame worshipping fanboys hoping for a backstage coke and stroke with their idol. If you live long enough you may discover your blessings become a burden if your “Got Mine, Jack” Donald Trump programming prevents you from sharing them. It takes a lifetime for some privileged folks to figure it out. Who needs love when you have enough high-quality, legal, white people prescription drugs? Who needs friends, when you can hire employees and interview personal assistants? Who needs mercurial bands when you can manufacture underage beta slaves to lip synch to slutty techno excrement? Who needs Republicans when you have Obama and Biden, Clinton, and Kerry?


While the NDAA indefinite detention prez and the AIPAC lobby drags the nation to always more dirty wars based on lies, most Americans are STILL all a chatter over Hannah Montanna’s tongue wagging, fly catching performance; or Justin Timberlake’s klieg lit mediocrity. Where were you when N SYNC replaced the Replacements? Glen Ford calls Obama “the dreamer with the kill list” because he gives a vague, feel good Bill Clinton speech about Martin Luther King Jr., one day, then bombs brown children, the next. The powers that be, who force us to live like we do, are banging drums for more wars, based on dubious and quite possibly manufactured threats. The ocean is a radioactive soup from the Tepco spill that’s still being covered up by the media. B.P. destroyed the gulf and the government sent in mercenaries to hide the damage. Nobody has any disposable income anymore and the few who do are climbing the evil pyramid, claws first.
They poisoned the food and water supply. These “smart-readers” they’re installing in our apartments are dangerous, but the oligarchs obviously mostly fear YOU SMART READERS, the NSA follows your every move. Meanwhile, most of the cable dizzy and hate-radio programmed people are still sleeping. “Shhhhhhhh….Los Angeles is sleeping….”: Hello Disaster sang that line in the 90’s, and it still rings pretty true, as all our best writers, screenwriters, songwriters, and truth-tellers have gotten either shut-out by the Big Machine, or sidetracked by wanting to rub shoulders with bikinis and cigars. I know you know some of the TV people, who just spew non stop Bill O’Reilly talking points and outdated-for-decades bullshit platitudes about how free America is, and all the shining opportunity that awaits us all, if we’ll just take out a mountain sized college loan, and piss in a cup, and jump on George Jetson’s 9-5 treadmill. Don’t you wish you could mute the programmed TV people? The “People” magazine and “Entertainment Weekly” subscribers? It’s only the peace makers and unions and whistle blowers and victims of fracking and Corexit who have been silenced. The really heinous part about growing up in the empire of lies is that most times, no actual black clad adjustment bureau government agency needs to neutralize a critical thinker, the conformist parakeets of the bourgeoisie will do that, just instinctively. They really are Agent Smiths. That’s what all those so-called reality shows are about. Boot camp conditioning, shaven heads, cult brainwashing, weeding out the weird. They promise the khaki class all the privileges of membership. You can be a celebrity DJ for a day. The biggest hot tub, a wraparound sundeck, the V.I.P. pass, CABLE! Maybe that inside job Alex Jones dude is a blowhard, but he’s right about a domestic propaganda war. We’re now seeing anti-war activists accounts suddenly suspended on the Fascist-Crack surveillance grid, as the so-called social networks are being used as effective tools for consciousness raising and peace activism by the waking masses. Homeless people are being vilified and criminalized, even as low wage workers stand up for a living wage in the slave-class retail and food service industries. Nowadays, those heartless robots who yell “get a job” out of their speeding cars are clearly willfully oblivious to the fact that homeless people are competing for minimum wage jobs with college grads, retired people, and former home-owners.
The people that scapegoat the poor, these haves who have no compassion, who brag about their own achievements, while slandering those less fortunate, are sadly everywhere. Sometimes it seems the women are even worse, hissing that third hand Rush Limbaugh shit. Bukowski said a free soul is rare but you know it because you feel very good around those people, most of us adults are so scarred from abuse and baffled by ratrace bullshit, we can’t even tell a friend from a foe, anymore. Roseanne Barre, Rosie O’Donnal, Charlie Sheen are all blacklisted for questioning 9/11 and the Patriot Act. Phil Donahue, Keith Olberman, Cenk from the Young Turks, Dan Rather, they’re all banned from the mainstream airwaves.
How long until they retire Letterman for speaking the truth about the hideous perils of FRACKING? Everyone who still has cable, or reads those shitty corporate rock mags tell me about all the horrible music of today and I can’t believe they think I’m ever gonna like Kanye West. Last bands I liked begrudgingly at all were shit like, oh…Towers Of London, Red Star Rebels, These Animal Men, Tsar, that kind of thing. Forgotten gangs. Boys From Nowhere and Forgotten Rebels, Throbbing Purple. Rock anthems to lost causes and honest punk rock rebel songs. Mostly, I still listen to vintage trash like Mink Deville and Jim Carroll-gutter soul. Some country. Kristofferson and Hank The Third. Jello Biafra & The Guantanamo School Of Medicine. You ever drive around, wondering who these people are, who still own all those big houses? Some are doctors, lawyers, pharma reps, stock brokers, computer wankers, heirs, bean counters, yes-men, accountants, but many others are just snitches, corrections officers, goon squads and agents of organized violence. These people are not to be respected, these roughmen who shoot you in bed. The enforcer class don’t even know they are slaves to the pharaohs.
Others still have Hope & Change stickers on their cars even as Obama and Kerry and Clinton hang around Henry Kissinger planning more coups, more regime changes, more wars. Why are they sharing all our e-mails and phone calls with a foreign government? Really, pause for a second and consider that.


RewindTheFilmI know they are all probably a bit older than me, but the Manic Street Preachers were all my generation really had, aside from Sinead O’Connor, New Model Army, and rap, in the way of provocative, intelligent, socially conscious music. When I first got the “New Art Riot” vinyl, I was like ho-hum. Preachy politics and stenciled shirts, the American suburbs were already teeming with lamesass Clash wannabe boy bands who were heavy on the Murray’s pomade and skint on ideas, or any messages beyond, you know, we like to dress cool. I fell in love with them when I first laid my ears on the “Stay Beautiful” e.p. They had a really fabulous pop feel like Gen X, almost; smart lyrics, but I was still unconvinced about the guy with the Freddy Mercury pipes singing the guy who couldn’t play but gave all the interviews’ lyrics.
They were dreamy pinup boys for kids who missed Sputnik, but also a bit like Cheap Trick, two models and two Regular Joes, all with a Marxist bent, teaching the more erudite and scholarly outcasts of the world about history and literature and persuasively convincing Smiths fans that Guns N Roses and Public Enemy were important. “R.P. McMurphy”, “Motown Junk”, “Motorcycle Emptiness”, “Little Baby Nothing”, “Condemned To Rocknroll”…the Manics started peeling off hits like a stockbroker at a stripclub, they made it look so easy, gave courage to my goth gang who were all taking our own early stabs at songwriting, now we had a reason and I’m still waiting. They were warning us about the banks, the warmongers, the media-fed consumer-zombies while the rest of the world was still in their fecking shiny, happy ska phase. Next, came “Generation Terrorists”, Richie’s slashed arm, and an American tour that failed to ignite the enthusiasm of the “alternative” festival attending, Fox tv discovering population.
The Manic Street Preachers became more experimental after their landmark debut full length, that was too literate for macho sports fans and too rockin’ for college radio Lemonheads dweebs. I’d have to say, they were probably the last band who really influenced my own little clique of heartbroken punk rock losers. This time of year, I always find myself missing those early days, when we wrote our first hits in grimy basements, our hearts seemed to beat in time with that long lost Gabba Gabba Hey spirit I always lament the death of, of former possibilities, faded loves and tarnished dreams. Hiraeth is a homesickness for the home that never was, but damn well should have been. Choose your poison to get to paradise lost.

“Playing all the records
Praying that they’ll never stop

There is too much heartbreak
In the nothing of the now
I want to see it all
Never going to let you down”

…We continued to follow them, as we got older and ruined our lives with pills, bad wives and cursin’, usually identifying with their melodic testimony and defiant upstart objections. Dumbfuck Murkans still don’t know what to make of a Welsh rockgroup who sings something like, “and If I can shoot rabbits, then I can shoot fascists”.
Richey went missing, some of my gang died, some of us fell apart and spent a decade and a half trying to pick up the shattered, missing pieces of our former selves. Early on, our own personal fortunes seemed to rise and fall with Bradfield and company, but whereas they gained entry to epic recording studios and the big media, we splintered off into various factions, and watched in horror, as most everything the Manics, and the Clash before them, warned us might happen, happened.
Now, some of us are getting older, facing death, still asking questions, and the Manic Street Preachers continue to grow and ache along with us. We are often reminded that the past is past, how we had our window of opportunity and blew it, and now we should shutup and die quietly, but some of us remain haunted, just like the Manic Street Preachers.
They are always able to convey these difficult to articulate, hard truths about life, love, pain, other people’s pain, war, exploitation, and alienation in songs like “Sorrow 16”, “Spectators Of Suicide”, “From Despair To Where”, “Everything Must Go”, “Kevin Carter”, “If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be Next”, “Let Robeson Sing”, “Show Me The Wonder, “Nostalgic Pushead”, “You Stole The Sun From My Heart”, “Design For Life”, “So Why So Sad” and the new title track, “Rewind The Film” that similarly longs for those fleeting precious moments when we still had friends, we laughed ourselves stupid until the dawn’s early light, rocknroll seemed possible, and we were dumb enough to actually try it. “Rewind The Film” is a heavy, challenging, tough album for some of us fatally flawed lost souls to absorb in autumn, in the midst of our annual depression, where we involuntarily find ourselves tediously still wringing our arthritic hands about a long loathed youth we can not alter, nor revisit, and an ill-starred destiny we can not escape, as we watch on, in sheer horror, as our loved ones are fucked over by their doctors, lawyers, and insurance companies; as the last shreds of democracy and human rights are trampled in the name of glorious winners take all greed-head fascism, genocidal depopulation, and unprecedented income inequality. We see a nation where a little less than half of the population are still enraged by the mere idea of a half black Commander In Chief, while the majority are content to overlook his broken oath to defend the Constitution to prove that they somehow AREN’T racist, that they are down with the hip-hop yo, that they are “post racial”, while Black America is still under the heavy boot of the private prison profiteers and the bogus drug war.
Only nowadays, white poor people, and their family pets, are also being shot everyday, by an insanely militarized 5-0, for no reason. We feel a burning awareness that we have a finite amount of time left, and more dead comrades than living ones, and the leaves crunching beneath our duct taped Creepers only serve to remind us of how we were always alone and that shining moment when we were still part of an optimistic gang of seemingly like-minded rebels was just a smoke ring, a soap bubble, yesterday’s buzz.
Some will call “Rewind The Film” a departure, but attentive longtime listeners will instantly recognize the maudlin mellowness as this once angry young band has always been extremely versatile, and much more nuanced than the familiar Beatles Meets Queen big U.K. radio hits. It’s the voice of weary experience, stamina and fatigue, of grief and longing, compassion, regret, bitterness, defeat and perseverance, and genuinely earnest concern for the generation to come. Maybe James Dean is comfortably ensconced in some posh studio on the beach somewhere but this is one old punk who still has it, he still gets it, he’s not afraid to remember: “It’s the longest running joke in history to kill the working classes in the name of liberty.” Just goes to show that even the losers really do get lucky…sometimes. “Not in MY time, but in our sons and daughter’s times, if you get the feelin’, call…and you got a room.”

Press shots by Alex Lake.


studies showing that power increases the likelihood of hypocrisy here, that wealth increases the likelihood of reduced empathy here, and finally that conservatives are more likely to make up facts to justify their beliefs here

Rinse and repeat until the corporatocracy burns to the ground.

Alex Mitchell “The Strange Case Of The Flying Meatballs” Book

(-Book Review by Pepsi Sheen)

AlMitchellSome will tell you….a lot of things. Mostly, a lot of booieshite, they learned to parrot from their peer-group, all propaganda numb products of our sadly militarized schools, or from television. Me, I only like comparing notes with people who have some skin in the game, who’ve lived out loud, who’ve been full contact participants in this mad dash to the top of the hill, who’ve sailed well beyond the equator, who’ve lost everything and asked themselves rigorous questions, the crazy brave hearted actual first-person experience havers, who’ve raised a wolf and buried a parent.

Everybody else is just another bargain-bin Simon Cowell, and their opinions usually have less value, immobilized spectators, chickenshit Monday morning quarterbacks and cowardly slaves waiting around for orders from the man. Al Mitchell was a harcore punk rock bellowing, pharmaceutical Evil Knievel in the seventies; a top draft pick rockstar in the sleaze-metal eighties as cosmic crooner for Circus Of Power; NYC Agent Orange rat exterminator in the nineties–he built sets for Hollywood, taught other rock stars about Zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance, and formed a string of Credence Clearwater Revival influenced psychedelic biker bands like Fat Nancy and Plastic Gator Machine; and in the 00’s he’s been writing books, caring for his late pop, an extroverted Scotsman with Alzheimer’s, and fronting the outergalactic savior machine-Captain Zapped, licensed members of the Green Lantern Corps., who slay lizard people with guitars and harmonicas, in his spare time.

You can find him in Topanga Canyon, whistling while he works, or maybe even at the funky juke-joint with Captain Zapped if you need healing, but in the meantime, you gotta buy his books: “Life Is A Phanton K Mart Horse Starting Up In The Middle Of The Night”, “Working Class Superstar Redux”, and “The Strange Case Of The Flying Meatballs”, because he’s the absolute best rocknroll raconteur since Rollins, Roth, and Mindwarp. Really. Just order them all at once. …and be on the lookout for “Space Age Blues”, the hot new release by Captain Zapped. All the jetboys and jetgirls are dancin’ to the leaked single, “Brand New Revolution”, it’s gonna be the jam all winter.

Telenovelas “I Am The Destroyer”

Telenovelas_coverThere’s not much information about TELENOVELAS online yet. This new band from Finland was formed by members of CRYSTAL EXTASY/HUNDRED MILLION MARTIANS, and released this 9 song album on Plastic Passion records.
Opening in a very “Gimme Shelter” way with “Existence On/Off”, this album is not your typical rock’n’roll record, it’s sci-fi rock, almost mystical. It all sounds very 70s, with bits of space rock at times (“Countless Dimensions To Visit and Send Postcards From”, “Intergalactic Debauchery At The Red Light District Of The Moon”, you got to love these song titles!) and poppy BEATLES influences (“Queen Of The Moths”…)
Sometimes evoking FAITH NO MORE (“Spacetrain”), TELENOVELAS can also be dreamy (“Nuevo Paraiso Sundown”, “Dreaming In The Great Blizzard”) and still rock in style mixing MONSTER MAGNET melodies to LED ZEPPELIN atmospheres in “Traveler Has Arrived” for instance. As you probably have guessed by now, this is not an easy album to classify because of its various influences and different psyche-wave-pop-70s-rock moods, but after all, this comes from a country that brought us WALTARI!
“I Am The Destroyer” is quite a good surprise, an album to listen to if you need a little relaxing, laid back change./Laurent C.

Damn Dice “Wild ‘N’ Ready” EP

DamnDiceIs there a new new wave of British heavy metal? This definitely sounds like it could be part of it… DAMN DICE (from London) seem to be well aware of it since they are telling you to “Bang Your Head” (not a QUIET RIOT cover) from the start while the guitars are riffin’ hard and the double bass drum is rumbling. Of course, high-pitched vocals and epic guitar solos can be found all over these 6 songs, which should make more than a few metal heads around happy.
80s hard rock influences are obvious on this EP (“Heart On The Run”,”Wild Into The Night”…), some melodies and backing vocals remind me of Welsh glam metal heroes TIGERTAILZ and Alex’s vocals sometimes sound like Kevin Steele (ROXX GANG), but despite this and their looks, the whole thing definitely sounds more heavy metal (in a CRASH DIET/BLACKRAIN way)  than sleaze/glam rock’n’roll. At times, it just sounds like DOKKEN on speed!
I can’t promise that I’d bang my head to this for more than 6 songs, but they do their job right./Laurent C.

Cramped !


Collective book
Co-editor: Kizmiaz Records & Super Loto Editions

Cramped ! is an illustrated anthology of the many bootleg recordings of the American band The Cramps who made their indelible mark on the history of rock and roll over a period of four decades since their inception at the end of the 1970’s.

The book can be read as a a fan book, on one hand offering an exhaustive list of bootleg recordings of the band (including albums, singles, flexes, picture discs, box sets and even postcards), but also involving the participation of illustrators and comic book authors who have been inspired by the bands output over the years.

The book itself comes in the form of a 45 vinyl and is accompanied by an album including covers of some “Cramps” classics by four bands equally inspired by this legendary group. The collection also includes a “Cramps” family tree, detailing the thirty or so musicians who have passed through their ranks.
Cramped ! then is not only by the fans for the fans but also essential item for all lovers of authentic rock and roll.

With the contribution of Winshluss (cover), Moolinex, Imius, Syd Dolby, Nicolas Moog & Matthias Lehmann, Pakito Bolino, Mattt Konture, Oudin Ojjo & Janus Ojjo, Vincent Wagnair, Bingo, Laure Del Pino & Olivier Josso, Romain Marsault (family tree).

Music by Birds Are Alive, Brat Farrar, King Automatic, Magnetix.

buy @

Cold Blue Rebels “Love Of The Undead”

– By Geordie Pleathur

“The PATRIOT Act was a dagger in the heart, really, of even the concept of a democratic government that is free, equal and just.”

(-Hunter S. Thompson)

“We’re living in a place–the United States– in which one of our goals as not just progressives but as human beings is to dismantle this system of illegal kidnappings, torture, interrogation without attorneys, utter lawlessness”
(-Michael Ratner)

“Let’s call prisons exactly what they are: an extension of slavery.”
(- Robert Hillary King)

“We’re sending the poor of this country to kill the poor of those Muslim countries. This is trading blood for oil. This is genocide. And to most of the world, we are the terrorists. In these times, remaining silent on our responsibility to the world and its future is criminal. And in light of our complicity in the supreme crimes against humanity in Iraq and Afghanistan, and ongoing violations of the U.N. Charter in International Law, how dare any American criticize the actions of legitimate resistance to illegal occupation.

Our so-called enemies in Afghanistan, Iraq, Palestine, our other colonies around the world, and our inner cities here at home, are struggling against the oppressive hand of empire, demanding respect for their humanity. They are labeled insurgents or terrorists for resisting rape and pillage by the white establishment, but they are our brothers and sisters in the struggle for justice. The civilians at the other end of our weapons don’t have a choice, but American soldiers have choices. And while there may have been some doubt 5 years ago, today we know the truth. Our soldiers don’t sacrifice for duty-honor-country, they sacrifice for Kellogg Brown & Root.”
(-Dahlia Wasfi)
OLD JOKE: An Oxford professor meets a former student on the street. He asks what he’s been up to lately. The student tells him he’s working on a doctoral thesis about the survival of the class system in the United States. The professor expresses surprise. “I didn’t think there was a class system in the United States,” he says. “Nobody does,” the student replies. “That’s how it survives.”

“Why does the U.S. national political class perpetually appear ridiculous to the point of derangement e.g., Republican grandstanding and Democratic capitulations and betrayals?

Jimmy Carter: ‘[The US] has no functioning democracy.’

The Republican leadership knows this. Therefore, the challenge that they face is to please their true constituents, Big Money Interests, yet still create the illusion that they serve their base, same modus operandi as the Democratic leadership. The trick is to create a great deal of diversion with contrived controversies and demagogic fears…A sort of carnival House of Horrors set-up; it is all done with political props and puppet work…aahh scary, scary — the Republicans are going to defund Obamacare and institute a Faith Healing Mandate…aahh scary, scary — the Democrats are going to force socialism on Disney World.

Meanwhile, the One Percenter oligarchs snicker at the rank and file partisans who are taken in by the silly, shoddy stagecraft of this sham republic.”
(-Phil Rockstroh)

“For the recognition of private property has really harmed Individualism, and obscured it, by confusing a man with what he possesses. It has led Individualism entirely astray. It has made gain not growth its aim. So that man thought that the important thing was to have, and did not know that the important thing is to be. The true perfection of man lies, not in what man has, but in what man is.”
(-Oscar Wilde)

“We now live in a nation where doctors destroy health, lawyers destroy justice, universities destroy knowledge, governments destroy freedom, the press destroys information, religion destroys morals, and our banks destroy the economy.”
(—Chris Hedges)

“Obama is a grifter. He posed as a progressive, when, all along, his agenda was to serve the elitist greedheads of the corporate/bankster state and the ruthless operatives of U.S. militarist imperium.

Ergo, Obama evinces the remorseless, ruthless nature of all too many who are attracted to power and bestowed with privilege.

On the other hand, what is one to make of the mode of mind of the power-bereft Obots and Democratic partisan types who act as his apologist? Are they fearful of the sorrow, angst, and soul-sickness that arrives when one comes to the realization that one has been duped?

Upon being betrayed the very ground beneath one’s feet seems to liquify. One’s moorings are lost. One wanders in a wilderness of regret and recrimination.

To avoid the discomfort, a bubble-enclosed mindset arises, comprised of all the cognitive dissonance, casuistry, and brittle pride of the denial ridden. Withal: There is, in evidence, a toxic innocence in the Obot mindset that morphs into a belligerent ignorance when confronted.

Yes, they should be plied with compassion, as, all the while, one continues to pummel them with reality.

Setting the broken bones of the hope-hobbled can be an agonizing process for all concerned.”

(-Phil Rockstroh)

“Of all the preposterous assumptions of humanity over humanity, nothing exceeds most of the criticisms made on the habits of the poor by the well-housed, well-warmed, and well-fed.”
(- Herman Melville)

“Anybody who thinks the US attacks other countries in order to help the people living there is completely and utterly delusional. The US government doesn’t give a fuck about it’s own people, many of whom are living in poverty while just a few control the majority of the wealth… so what makes you think they would care about people living overseas?
A small amount of people have been saying they agree with the possibility of a US military strike in Syria. Perhaps intervention in some way is needed, but do you really want the US – a country that is known for beginning wars based off of lies, and committing atrocities during these “wars” – to get in the middle of this with a military strike? There has already been enough suffering and death in Syria… I do not wish for them to now have to deal with another government who looks to wage war and kill for their own benefit.”

(-Jenna Pope)

“We’re talking in cliché’s, betray yourself for money/Having is more than being, now/Nobody’s sorry…”

(Subway Sect)

“The people in Washington just can’t stand the idea that someone, somewhere might be having a normal, happy life without getting bombed to death in drone attack or shunted off to some black site where the CIA can rip out their fingernails or beat them black and blue. That’s what this whole global war on terror-thing is all about. It’s about sticking your big fat nose in other people’s business 24-7. Some people just get a kick out of that. Why? Because they’re obnoxious people, that’s why. Like the drunk who shows up at your dinner party and slops red wine all over the rug. That’s the US in a nutshell, a first-rate pain-in-the-ass.

Everyone knows this is true, even the flag wavers. They know we shouldn’t be in Afghanistan or Iraq or Somalia or Yemen or wherever. We just go to be annoying, because that’s who we are, The Irritating States of America.”
(-Mike Whitney)

“True radicals don’t treat people with derision and contempt. They don’t bully those with whom they disagree, or reflexively assume, as a mantle, a moral or intellectual superiority that arises out of their ideology. In fact, true radicals constantly question ideology, constantly challenge themselves first and foremost …and choose to go on deeper and deeper quests, no matter the material or social cost. True radicals don’t necessarily “sound” radical, they are radical in that they constantly attempt to dissolve walls, and to discover deeper, universal truths – truths that offer little earthly or social reward.

True radicals break with society where society is broken and unbending, but then they keep going, if they can. For to break with society is to become an outcast. It is to be rejected by most people and by all tribes. That, or to face adulation and constant projection, of the sort that is flattering only to those who still subscribe to transitory rewards.

True radicals face being outcasts, discarded by their peers, rejected in power circles (that would otherwise greatly respect their intellect or sheer gumption), and misunderstood by the masses. They often face a life of monetary hardship.

True radicals are hard to find, by this definition. And perhaps in truth, people are true radicals by degrees. For to continually choose to dissolve walls and walk on the margins is to be passively or actively rejected by one’s family or peers, when every single human being has need of connectedness. It is to walk the hardest walk of all, that of shattering, and re-shattering all illusions, that of diving ever deeper into love. And for people who are radical by default, people who love life and this planet so, so much, that our mass madness is daily excruciating, so much that they’ve no choice but to leap off of some sort of cliff – to risk all, to tell harder, greater truths, well, that leap can become a daily exercise in diving through bitterness.

I think so many promising people, people of truly great mind, heart, and spirit take such a leap, and find there is far too little providing air under their wings. The leap is long, lonely, and for some increasingly hollow, despite its initial richness (and despite the knowledge that it is not, indeed, the truly hollow thing). Courage brings too few rewards, and perhaps too much loss. (“Truth has no friends”, a fellow said once, “only suicides”).

And in order to remain truly radical, and perhaps even, to keep one’s sanity after making that leap, one must have the courage and the wherewithal to keep diving, ever, ever more. Beyond anything we could have dreamed, everything we ever feared, beyond all loss and all hope, to something we cannot yet know or name. People have done this. We have called them divine. We have called them mystics. And we tend to silence them, or to forget them, to turn our backs on awareness of the sacred. We turn our backs, in our distractedness, our fears or pettiness, on flight itself. The kind of flight that dives, and wings, and soars and defies time and bodies, and gravity.

One cannot know when one takes a leap off the metaphorical cliff if one will fall, fly, or die. Some fly. Many fall. Some die. But there is much grace to be found in the simple act of trying, no matter our defeats. (And great loss wishes to say to me, “are you telling me the truth?” And on my still days, even in its dying, my body forms a resounding “yes”).

I wish for air under the unfurled wings of each one of us. Air, and love, and courage, and hope, to keep diving, and winging, beyond our darkened skies, beyond any dawning.”

(-Tangerine Bolen)

“The false mythos, promulgated by the vast, culture-wide, propaganda apparatus of the privileged classes of the U.S., that people possessed of pluck and who are graced with superior talents rise to the top of the hierarchy of vampires of the corporate/
capitalist state has been debunked by psychological study after psychological study that reveal the only trait that those who excel in the corporate/capitalist state possess in abundance is being born into privilege and having psychopathic tendencies.

In reality, most all upward mobility in the U.S. has been engendered by the socialist programs of the Progressive Era and New Deal; programs that ended or were crippled at the advent of the age of Reaganism, a trend that continues to the present.

Regardless of these facts, capitalist hagiographers and their downscale dupes still promulgate the canard that the U.S. is “the land of opportunity.”

Sure thing: If you consider donating your blood to a blood bank owned and operated by vampires an opportunity.”
(-Phil Rockstroh)

“This is just a further example of media culture dictating, devaluing, and debasing society at large by celebrating self consumed celebrities, who in turn are abnormally built up into more than the sum of their parts, as media culture only honors the most sycophantic mind set to create the illusion of a reality it longs to infect the population with, creating a monetized subspecies enslaved to complete control.”
(-Superlegend Frankie Delmane on Kanye West)


Hey, I know all about getting old, and tired. I’m exhausted everyday, all the time, 75 lbs. overweight, can’t dance through an entire three minute song on the boombox anymore, I’m damaged goods, like all the slacker-era video-game nerds and lazy, suburban, butter-gulping, remote control oriented housewives who watch the food channel all day, that I used to so scornfully ridicule, and I understand, fully, how no one wants to see ME on-stage, drunk and shirtless, anymore, since I got soft in my middle-age, after the fall, when all the hip jobs were parceled out to the management classer’s relatives and girlfriends and all the lingering punk rockers merged with more affluent forces and the underground consolidated itself, like the corporate monopolies of the nineties, until there was no place for third-string dinosaurs like me except out here in the pasture. So I’ve been out here in the wet grass munching weeds all day with the other crabby old goats. There was nothing else to do. But speaking of old gray mares who ain’t what they used to be, I saw this video of two rocknroll heroes joining forces to cover a seminal bruising ass-kicker of a song, and the vocalist had his glasses on and a stool, and was hunched over squinting, while singing from a lyric sheet, ON-STAGE, looked more like a sociology professor reading “Howl” to the pop-culture studies class, than a rocknroll front-man, and I just thought, “WHY BOTHER”? Honestly, your garden variety tenured corduroy jacket with elbow patches wearing, liberal professor hitting on the freshman girls with old dead guy’s beat poetry, probably summons more gusto. Where is the wild abandon? We can’t all be yoga toned athletes like Iggy or Mike Monroe, but we notice how many of our former fringe-dwelling favorites are phoning in high-dollar, half hearted, nostalgia circuit appearances and wonder if they would perhaps be better off sending impersonators out on the road like Warhol, and Kiss, if they can’t even be arsed to remember the effin’ words, or make any frail stab at moving on stage. Some bands are selling V.I.P. packages, where you can finance their plastic surgery enhanced wive’s bon-bon habits and movie star lifestyle at $300 a pop. Ha. When I was a kid, the bands brought me in past the dickhead college boy bouncers, through the backdoor, and freely shared their green room booze, and let me watch sound check and posed for a dozen pictures while my delinquent pals fumbled foolishy with the old school cameras and flash bulbs…all just because they appreciated that we were their fans. Thanks, my friends. Made life-long supporters out of us, didn’t they? Taking a cue from Michael Monroe and David Lee Roth, COLD BLUE REBELS are so dedicated to maximizing their product’s value, on behalf of you, the still untamed rocknroll people, that they’ve even resorted to taking care of themselves, in order to provide you with the most memorable experience, possible. Fantastic! They actually care about cultivating a sincere relationship with their audience. Everybody else shows up fat and half-lidded, saying, “I used to be sort of famous, now pay me!” There is nothing half-mast about Mickey Finn’s punk as fuck Mohawk, or the COLD BLUE REBELS highly charged teddy boy attitude. Mickey looks more like Johnny Bravo than Colin from GBH these days, but has lost none of his Jetboy microphone-stand brandishing aggression. Cold Blue Rebels are hardworking, blue collar, badass motherfuckers, who care a lot. Even if you ain’t into Sha Na Na nostalgia, or Happy Days drive-thrus, or car show culture, you got to respect that. If you have kids of your own, you’ll probably end up giving this disc to one of them, so maybe you should buy two. Mickey Finn’s a scream with his be bop a lulu of a pelvis shakin’, switchblade brandishing, Unknown Hinson inspired, bowling shirted, hillbilly heel persona, pure dynamite. Danny Dangerous is as much a part of the familiar Sunset Strip landscape as Angelyne, or Lemmy, or Giddle Partridge, or Rodney on the Roq. A throwback to when the local color was the color purple. I remember when I first moved to Tinseltown, all the Pretty Boy Floyd worshipping glam kids thought the Zeros were gonna be the “Next Faster Pussycat”! Joe Normal is totally from that torrid, Chris Isaak school of sizzling, sweltering, sultry torch and twang. Everly Brothers ache and longing , and rebel yellin’, Hasil Adkins-style, moonshine crazy, jump n holler. They’ve got a new drummer named Al Diablo. Go, cadavers, GO!


If you were able to navigate the university-debt labyrinth in the past two decades, perhaps your income for purchasing vintage Betty Page memorabilia has increased, but no one elses has, not in twenty years. It is strange to see once poor people quoting all that bloated, blowhard bullshit about how it is the poor who are the drain on the economy(!!?), even in the face of overwhelming avalanches of evidence that it is irrefutably the fracking Wall Street white collar mafia who are gutting your schools, fire departments, and post offices; eroding your Bill Of Rights; fondling you in the airport; stealing your pensions; poisoning the food, water, ocean, air, and soil; lying nations into war, spying on you in your home, and normalizing torture and violent arrests of peaceful demonstrators. 95% of income gains since 2009 went to the top one percent according to a study at UC BERKELEY, and yet we still have to suffer these college grad associates parroting big-media lies from the Nixon era about “lazy hippies and welfare queens”. The entire federal food stamp budget which mostly goes to children, and the elderly is a tiny sliver of the pie graph. 44 % of homeless people are EMPLOYED, but all the overpaid, smug, office pros like to pretend like THEY are doing something really special, that they “deserve” their ridiculous salaries because no one else could sit at the desk quite as fabulously as they do. Most of “your tax money” goes straight into the pockets of banksters, weapons manufacturers, and military contractors. 3/4 of the pie graph is for war, with more pork for war hidden in other parts of the budget, like in foreign aid to Israel. Glamorous Tel Aviv gets the millions needed by Detroit. Upper middle-class people are out of touch, worried that they don’t have enough robot toys, yet, that their former peers are gaining on them, that some hungry Oliver Twist kids are coming to deprive them of their surplus. They think they are their belongings. The rich are straining and striving to become super rich. It’s a rat race, baby. People take out huge loans with ridiculous interest rates to go to college where they are taught to uncritically obey their corporate masters and the military industrial pharmaceutical complex, so they can get a diploma, so they can compete for a job, so they can repay that loan. If there’s a still a record store open in your town, it’s doubtlessly because somebody with an inheritance figured out how to sell an illusory self image to squares in tiny increments. Few actually get to rock, anymore, but everyone still wants to own products and souvenirs of people who rocked forty or fifty years ago, something to keep in plastic bags in the spare room. Once you get to be my age, everybody starts dying and that high school popularity shit means less and less. All those big balls stuff collectors, they are gonna croak just like the beggar on the corner, or the has-been who barely ever made it out of his mom’s garage.

I remember how that loathsome, “We Built This City” was still on the radio when Grace Slick had the audacity to start all her insufferable crone groaning about how Mick n Keith should retire. Lennon also struggled with his envy that they still had a gang in evil eye make-up, back in, what–1980? So I ain’t sayin’ nobody should retire, but if I’m expected to pay top dollar to see you “rock”, make a motherfuckin’ effort. That whining goatee, Scott Ian, with his skater shorts, throwin’ Dio’s devil horns wants you to pay(!) to shake HIS hand—-yeah, the Anthrax guy, oozes with bitterness that the fans owe him, because of file sharing, and well, maybe somebody, somewhere, has downloaded an Anthrax song, once, they tell me even Paula Abdul still has her fan, but uh, if they exist, the downloading Anthrax fans, I don’t know them. If he thinks times are tough for his tour bus riding, home-owning, record collecting, autograph signing, “That Metal Show” starring, eighties thrasher ilk, how much harder do these Lars Ulrich greed-monkeys think it’s been for the rest of us; who didn’t sign to a big label with our shitty bands thirty or forty years ago? We can’t even get record store jobs anymore, unless “we’re” twenty year old females with nose-rings. Either you’re a tattooist, or related to someone famous, or you’re OUT. Suck it up, Jack. I got mine. You shoulda, coulda, woulda. Tough luck, kid. It’s weird seein’ pictures of people you went to school with on-line, looking EXACTLY like their fat, white-haired, baseball capped fathers, with the glasses and the goatees, deluxe riding mowers, sports apparel and khaki pants. Watches and tan little belts….Red Bull and Jagermeister…so, so many of them attended state college twenty years ago and became hand pumping, home-town car dealers, pompous panjandrums, low level bureaucrats and office workers–it’s surreal. Painful reminders, of how in spite of their token and now almost obligatory Misfits t-shirts and Minor Threat collections, and big black Lollapalooza era tribal tattoos on their gym inflated muscles, most of these Midwestern middle-class Ken dolls hosing down their trucks on Sunday were having an ENTIRELY different experience than I was, back in the day. Which boot-camp did YOU go to? The one where the bell rings, and you obediently rush off to wait in line, racing to the redlight, racing to the ATM, racing to the checkout counter, racing to the drive-thru speaker, racing off to work, racing to Hooters, racing to Home Depot, racing to the bowling league? Life is football to these people. Socialized from birth to be shamelessly insincere, pushy, selfish, oafs—they base their flatulent, man-cave dwelling, Discovery Channel emulating identities and relationships on power, and uniforms, and are are all certain they are winning.


When I was in school, I was popularly known as “Joey Ramone” (other times “Devo”, or the never goes out of style old stand-by, “fag”) and violently bullied non-stop, so when my friends who were blonde, white, doctor’s kids reminisce fondly about that shithole, I don’t share their “go team” jock nostalgia. The surveillance grids really make public most people’s true alliances in old age, as they all wanna high five with the Kanye imitating white boy dickheads at the reunion, sipping bitter craft beer on the wraparound sundeck. I’m still not ready to make nice with those sadists and rapists, no matter how successful their local businesses become. So there you have it. Maybe some ex punks have incentive to assimilate, but if you ain’t on nobody’s gravy train, needing a job at the auto parts store, or Maybelline is gonna divorce you and take the kids, there’s no pressure to fit-in with the white hats. They were dickheads back then, and they are having dickhead children and training them to be dickheads, now. I went to an exceptionally malevolent school that emphasized sports and dress code conformity. Polo shirts, designer jeans, Swatch watches, and teenagers with expensive cars. The richest quarterbacks and even some of the more emboldened by numbers golf nerds punched you everytime they passed you in the hallway, knocked your trapper keeper out of your hands, put your head in dirty toilets, and raped your girlfriend after church youth group, and this was all with the approval of the teachers, counselors, coaches, and administrators. The sons of judges and cheese factory owners and downtown nightclub moguls were the actual literal terrorists, back then. If a poor kid wrote punk rock band logos in his text book, he got felonious malicious destruction of county property charges leveled at him! If a rich kid did the same thing, he was handed an eraser, maybe given a book fine. Nowadays, the general public is still socialized the same way, but they’ve added-in the anti-Arab, anti-Muslim, racist bit. The sports nutty bully-boys go after Sikhs on the streets, anyone who “looks different”, Muslims, environmental and food labeling activists. It’s the same old white privilege sports sadism, wrapped in a frantic flag waving, freedom-fries inhaling, irrational fear of Arabs, or of an indian Miss America. Controlled opposition wooden dummies like Nafta Bill Clinton will complain about the polarizing effect FOX TV has had on the country, but it was his indeed, his own 1996 Telecommunications Act that handed the public airwaves over to these six companies. No one seems to remember his involvement with Waco, either, or Nafta. As I write this, a widely awarded and bona fide dean of journalists, Seymour Hersh, a Pulitzer Prize recipient and former writer for the NY Times, has come out admitting that the entire corporate media is a puppet show and the Arab boogeyman story was faked, when Cindy Sheehan said the same thing, the empire reacted by having corporate shill drug warrior and tv personality, Dr. Drew, invite her to appear on his show under false pretenses, ambushing her for her assertions, and gas-lighting her-meaning he was intentionally prodding her about her fallen kid, trying to make her seem crazy. I’ll tell you who’s crazy-all these housebound wives who worship at the alter of false prophets, bogus drug-war profiteers, and products shills like Dr. Drew, Dr. Oz, Dr. Phil, and “The Doctors”. Bring back Dr. Creep! A famous beauty who inhabits a reality of non-stop privilege, flattery, and luxury told me last year that her government would never conduct a false flag operation. Americans line up to watch war propaganda, line-up to buy poison, line-up, to harm themselves and their loved ones. We pay to be spied on with flashy gadgets. Pay to be molested in domestic airports for the “privilege” of flying. Pay and compete and wait in line to compete and pay to poison ourselves for the profit of the one percent slave-owners. Compete for the privilege, are proud to own the trinkets. It’s looney-tunes. If you suggest any of this is at all foolish, they will instinctively seek to harm you into silence, immediately. Who needs the secret police when the everyday people are already so sieg heil sports indoctrinated to be snitches and bouncers and low level enforcers? Have you seen footage of these armed and violent stormtroopers the government sends to beat up peaceful protesters? It’s indefensible. Are those the men you still trust to protect your precious collection of Bad Brains bootlegs from all those scuzzy lumpen herd welfare mothers and drug offenders?
The Republicrats have shut down the government, except for you know, the “botched drug raids”, pet killing, tasering, spying and invading and fracking and gouging and most all our estranged family and former friends tragically believe everything they are told on cable tv. Grownups who should know better question no corporate media story, ever. If Brian Williams says it, it’s true. From JFK to 9/11. How did all the leather jacket clad, once beautiful girls I used to know become these church going, sporting event attending, sports-car driving, NASCAR watching, day-spa co-owners with alcoholic desert drinks always close at hand, Margarita mamas, Mcmansion captives, reposting last year’s vacation photos and pro-war Jesus memes on Facebook, perpetually on cell phones talking to their sisters about spray tans and juicers while casually, callously dropping garments on the floor for old ladies to have to bend down and pick up for minimum wage all day at Target, in their ugly fuzzy scarves and furry sweaters, toasting themselves and their softball playing ex marine husbands? Ever seen drunken middle class women with long fake nails and hair extensions try to do the electric-slide to outdated Inxs songs and Diddy style radio music at sports bars? It ain’t pretty. The weird part is how these are the same broads who were so harshly judgmental of me way back in MY hard partying days. Married to hunters and military men. Listen to all those empty vodka bottles clanging around, when they take out the garbage, they can’t recycle or the neighbors would notice all the empty booze jugs. How do you go from knowing all the lyrics to the Smiths, the Cure, and Depeche Mode songs to raising jock sons, gobbling prescription pills, subscribing to Us Magazine and eating out ten times a week at the Outback Steakhouse and T.G.I. Fridays? Cable, college, credit card, career. That’s how! They have never heard the phrase “disposition-matrix”, would assume it is a Skrillex-like dance band, would not google it if you dared them to, they don’t care, but they can tell you the name brand of Kim Kardashian’s sister’s latest diet product, in a heartbeat.


People actually talk to me about Foo Fighters and Green Day like they are the Pistols and the Clash. Are you kidding me, man? Even Little Steven, he really seems to take Green Day seriously. I don’t get it, but I know they had the time of their lives. My generation, they did nothing, they lifted up the usual chubby frat-boys on their shoulders, watched “Friends”, bought video game system after video game system, listened to Alanis Morrisette and Matchbox 20, and assimilated their parent’s bogus Crocs wearing unrealities and buckets of wings and yards of beer in “Who Let The Dogs Out” playing, vile sports bars, a few of ’em in bigger cities bought solar homes and grew civil war beards…hang on, broheem, I’m texting….I can’t think of one original voice that’s emerged from my age group since Sinead O’Connor, The Manic Street Preachers and Chuck D., and Tupac Shakur. Those fart joke, Diet Coke, millionaire, corporate punks can all kiss my ass. Look at how all the once edgy bands became dress-code enforcing, KFC gobbling, Cornrow Elvises after five minutes of fickle fame. We all know Guns N Roses lost the “AND ROLL” part of the equation when they threw out Adler, who was promptly followed by Izzy, but this giant, corporate, super fame, monster truck, sporting event they got goin’ now, does it really even qualify as “ROCK”, anymore? Nothing sadder than when yesterday’s rebels become the cops and elitists of today. One of my own former drummers gave up punk rock entirely and did just that-literally. Became a small-town cop. Crazy. Makes a guy lose faith in human nature. Still trying to impress his Smilin’ Bob step-dad through goose-steppin’ assimilation. Gross.

The “Entertainment Weekly” super hero blockbuster corporation juggernaut can even suck all the fun outta vampires and werewolves and zombies and Halloween, can’t they? I still love the Cramps, avoid the G.M.O.’s they cram into our Count Chocula and Frankenberry. I thought the horror thing was finally losing it’s appeal with Marilyn Manson, and I love all that shit. Rat Fink car models, lowgrade fifties monster-matinee hosts, Vampira, Alice Cooper, Alien Sex Fiend, Bauhaus, Misfits, Specimen, Sisters Of Mercy, Electric Frankenstein. I’m still goth at heart. But they killed it good, didn’t they? The models on cable? Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt? All that’s left is cos-play for computer nerds, jockabilly for N.A. gym-rats with high-end dayjobs. When even the squarest of the squares wear corpse paint to the office on casual Fridays, you gotta wonder, what’s the point? We’re all stuck in middle school, forever. It’s all shit and lies now, we’re all trapped in these high definition fed, delusional, live forever bubbles of suburban conformity and consumerism. Most toys wins, all that. You ever tried to buy some 70’s action figures for your kid on E-Bay? They’ve jacked everything up, so high on E-Bay, the Star Wars geeks, goateed gamers, and adult cartoon shit hoarders. Killed it all thrice. Flogging the dead undead, undead, undead. All that Scooby Doo “boo!” has become boo-hoos, as we wake up, and realize the hard reality of our present situation—that Hannibal Lecter and Vlad the Impaler and Freddie Kruger were strictly Howdy Doody Time, compared to the actual oil barons and Wall Street despots, torturers and prison profiteers who are currently fracking, drone attacking, targeting individuals, creating all this needless hell on earth. And only THEIR own, shit head, millionaire kids can afford a rundown Mystery Machine, nowadays. Be a sixties rockstar’s kid, or be gone. Bela Lugosi really is dead, this time. If only mad professors, bent on world domination, and their black clad stormtroopers, and super spies with secret weapons, were still just the stuff of paranoid science fiction graphic novels and upper middle class collector Fangoria subcultures!


CBRLOTUHaving said all that, if there was anyone with the musical talent and enough brutiful charisma to shoot white lightning up the long-dead corpse of psychobilly again, and bring the decaying monster back, to fight the dumbed down villagers, with their torches, and lynch-mob, dumbfuck Sarah Palin, symbolic-other hating, mentalities, it might just be this impossibly energetic, dieharder, clique of glam ghouls from the Sunset Strip—–THE COLD BLUE REBELS. These four Edward Scissorhanded hep cats still revel in the black cat fifties fantasies of bullet bra’d bombshells and hot rod drivin’ greaseball j.d. rebel rockers, fightin’ the man. Fuckin’ A. Remember Levi and the Rockcats? You know how rockabilly people are always obsessed with detailing? Detailing their souped up retro ride, detailing their expensive vintage instrument? That’s the coolest thing about COLD BLUE REBELS: their attention to detail. Mickey and Joe Normal and and Danny Dangerous do everything with an aesthetic evil eye for always entertaining and collectible detail, they don’t half-ass anything. The Glamour Punks have one of the most fanatical cult followings, “one sick posse”, of any under recorded band, ever—Spaz Draztic was the CBR’s original drummer. Jetboy were the absolute glammest of the glam darlings of the Guns N Roses and Faster Pussycat concho-belt era, and the purple haired Zeros were the West Coast’s own cartoon Ramones. Alumni of all those bands got bored answering fanmail about the metal years and noticed how little rock & ROLL was left in the internet age, when we’re all isolated in little boxes, sitting on our boxes, staring at tiny gadgets, ceaselessly strategizing new ways to obtain more boxes to box-out with our boxed-in box-headed Botox friends, so what did they do? They totally broke all programming protocol and got together, in person, renewed real relationships, and decided that what was missing from modern music was energy, risk taking, spectacle, entertainment, heart. They thought about Screamin’ Jay Hawkins and Lux Interior, and decided to make it their own personal mission to introduce the younger generations to Eddie Cochran cool and the Stray Cat struttin’ sluttery of in your face, sweaty, live and in person, tonight only, blue suede death rock. The kids went wild! Fat old geezers in Motorhead t shirts started coming out of retirement to see the raw powered rockabilly rebels light their own rocking chairs and coffins on fire. COLD BLUE REBELS are here to remind you that you are already dead. You might as well live it up, laugh it up, slap on some Spiders From Mars make-up and ball tonight. You know what else they did that was so exceptional and unusual in this lazy era of half hearted, spoilt-ass, ex celebs, who all seem to think we owe them something? They want to GIVE the FANS a GOOD TIME. They apply themselves to ENTERTAINING their paying audiences. COLD BLUE REBELS want YOU to EXPERIENCE real ROCKNROLL. Imagine that. Another cool thing these macabre marauders have done right, is when every last fourth-string asshole who ever got a record deal on the coat tails of some corporate-rock cattle call wants you to “like” their page and purchase their swag, and pay them hundreds of dollars to shake their dirty hands, THE REBELS go out of their way to make damn sure their swag is WORTH buying. They offer a colorful, amazingly cool line of badass designs. NOBODY else seems to care about the fans, these days. COLD BLUE REBELS have thought about YOU! Some greedheads have accused me of being anti-this, or anti-that. Anti-war, anti-torture, anti-genocide, anti-ripoffs, maybe. How refreshing to see some veteran entertainers who aren’t out to rip you off. Let me be clear, the compact disc you need to purchase in time for Halloween is COLD BLUE REBELS!!!!