--Eddie Vedder AVAILABLE @ Hogwild Records San Antoni Apple Rec ords -vdT * eC ° r gave intima- tions of what a working anarchic society could be like. The doors 3a break on thru- a celebration of ray manzarek pdf. on thru – a celebration of ray manzarekThe Doors + Eddie Vedder + Ted Mosby on bass. Eddie Vedder - Palais Theatre, Melbourne; March 25, Source: Sony ECM > Sony PCM-M10 @ 24/ Location: Stalls Row Z Please Do Not Convert To Mp3. WRITERS DREAM KIT TORRENT Splashtop est repute be the one budget of some. Ethisphere has released user has consented adjust my own. Do not call similar tools in of the Database is the most.
Things change. The worst thing that I can imagine is bore- dom. They took that boredom, that suburban, lame-ass, unremitting boredom, and transfigured it into anger — a much more positive and endlessly entertaining force. When I was in high school, I was bored. Very, very bored. No one else I knew liked the kind of music I liked, no one read the kind of books I read.
I was bored and alone. The authority of real art and this stuff is, by every definition, art effects you in a profound way. But it did. Or so I like to think. I was handling some cases for a legal clinic recently, and I came across this old woman who was completely illerate, and dependent upon her kids, who ignored her. She lived on Social Security, in a hovel. She was crippled and could barely walk. And she was being hounded by a collection agency, because someone had stolen her check, and when she tried to cash a newly issued one, the check bounced, and the currency exchange was coming after her.
She was completely helpless — she could do nothing to stop the torment. Being helpless, I decided, is the only thing which makes you old. As soon as you have given your life over to others, when you no longer con- trol your life on a moment to moment basis, you are old, because you have lost the spirit of inde- pendence. Sometimes, there is no line at all.
Sometimes, I feel like taking a shower. Kerosene aol. For the first time in five years, I find it necessary to know exactly what time it is. The last three months have been a race against the clock, with the clock definitely a few laps ahead of me.
But now I carry my secret weapon strapped to my wrist on my left arm. Do you? My phone rang last night as I was working on the layouts for the Braid interview. I was on a roll too. So it goes, I guess So on the other line was a guy I know.
They just got signed by Revelation. Apparently, I had started off on the wrong foot, so I decided to steer the conversation in a more agreeable direction: Fugazi. Fuck yeah , and I knew he had gone to some emo fest in Indianapolis and had just seen them too. I figured we could rave about them together for a few minutes, and then I could get back to that Braid interview. How could I have been so stupid.
Fugazi are a bunch of rock stars. Apparently I slept through that lesson at Phuck U. Fugazi has been around for eight years and has continued to release challenging, uncom- promising music, and have persisted in re-invent- ing themselves, and their sound, time and time again. They continue to seek out alternative places to play, even though that often means playing some pretty funky venues. They still insist on low door prices lower, in fact than many shows for bands much smaller.
Should I go on? I can. They continue to release their own records, which continue to cost a fraction of those of other, much smaller bands. They continue to exclude the mass media from interviewing the band, while continuing to grant a really good interview to any fanzine that wants one.
They continue to insist that every member of the audi- ence is able to enjoy themselves at their shows, even if that means stopping in the middle of a song so that some bonehead can calm himself down. I could. This is the antithe- sis of a rock star. So what gives? But I do know one thing: if I were in a band. Let me get this straight.
You pay five bucks to see a band. Yeah, I can see the problem. Welcome to the wonderful world of emo- core, where being an incredible, successful band, which has never severely compromised any of its morals is a bad thing. This is the same world where a columnist in HeartattaCk magazine can rail against large distributors for allegedly ripping off zine publishers, while running her own distro that is doing just that. This is the same world where rich white kids can somehow, with a straight face mind you, talk about the oppression of people of color, the whole time managing not to implicate themselves.
What time is it? For those of you who have read his bio for the new Green Day album I know I know. They also — as opposed to the the- ory that Mr. Weasel states about Green Day — know how to push it to extremes, and they know how to reel it back in again. The name alone gives it away. Give it a whirl. Now take an Indian Summer record. You can taste the difference. Have a nice start to winter, I know I am. No cogent, potent, plainly written topic tonight.
Just a few loose thoughts clinking around my brain. Hope it is worth tuning in for. Table of Contents I. Crickets 2. Jerry Garcia 3. PC Update 4. Feedback The noisy cicadas bloomed in those last heat-drenched days of August. I was in the West 70s and when the red lights silenced the traffic I could hear them all the way across the street. All that concrete and steel, all those combustion engines and — Crickets. In Central Park.
If my life is a movie, then the orchestral soundtrack is a backyard full of crickets. As a very young child crickets kept me com- pany during long, dark nights. I missed them terri- bly in winter and was comforted to hear them again in spring. In my late teens they could make me cry because their constancy served to under- score how fast my life was changing, how little remains the same.
Who will I be with? What will the world be like? Will they make me happy, or will they only remind me of happier times? Will I be blissfully in love on a moonlit walk? Will I be a bag lady sleeping on a Central Park bench? Or will I hear them only in memory, living in some cricketless, concrete-skinned world? That will be one long Winter.
One long Movement of rests. Oh well, speaking of the music stopping, I have just a few words to say about Jerry Garcia. None of this life- or-death, agonized, personal adulation that so many rockers cultivate in their fans. The Dead were just providing the background music for a lit- tle celebration. The whole experience gave intima- tions of what a working anarchic society could be like. No leader. Just some accompanists. The weird thing for me is how similar punk shows seem, just a darker shade.
I was having a good conversation with them and Mr. I asked him what he did in those situations. Obviously, if you let politeness or timidity bully you into just accepting remarks like that then you become guilty of perpetuating the attitudes those remarks reflect.
He said that his response varied with the circumstances. They were shrugging off his response as Political Correctness. The only need he feels for one is so he can figure out what his children and grandchildren are talking about when they mention s and Pentium chips. His views on race and the equality of man were prob- ably formed in boyhood, and working in New York he probably has some experience to back up his beliefs. Now he must suffer the indignity of being thought trendy.
These people who dismiss Mr. Finally, just a note on the feedback I got from my rant in PP8. The gist of the column was that people Westerners, especially should read the Bible. I gave various reasons, but the most impor- tant one for me was so everyone could have some sort of basis for rebutting the sincere but horribly misguided policies of people like Reverend Wild- mon, Pat Robertson, et alia.
I expected to get a lot of unpleasant corre- spondence from devout Bible-thumpers and irre- ligious punks. I guess anybody who was offended by what I wrote thought I was past help. The letters I did get fell into two categories. There were the Unbelievers who nevertheless felt moved by my apparent thoughtfulness and were ready to defend my right to express it.
And there were the Religious Punks, who feel a yearning after spirituality — even more traditional spirituality — but who feel inhibited from expressing these feelings in the punk community. These latter types were grateful that SOMEbody was lending some credi- bility to these things. Yes, the punk next to you may be a closet Christian or Jew or Muslim What are you going to do about it? Nothing, I hope.
Oh, I also got two other letters e-mail actu- ally. Buggy, buggy, buggy, bugs. I hate bugs. Creepy crawly bugs. When I pull weeds, every time a clump of crab grass gets uprooted, bugs squirm everywhere. I cringe. Spiders crawl up my arm. I fucking loathe spiders.
Every time I can, I squash the little fuckers. Little icky bugs. Fuck you, bugs. The hand of social security uproots them from their suburban California trailers, and they squirm my way. To downtown Reno. Downtown Reno beholds the ugliest people in the world. But when I tell the bands that, I invariably for- get the type of lowlife that hang out on Telegraph Ave. I say the Reno bugs are the ugliest, then I go to Berkeley and get quickly reminded of the creepy crawly things lying on the sidewalks of Telegraph.
Talk about ugly. Especially the bugs of the punk variety — the stinky, smelly, dreadlocked, mod- ern-primitive bums mostly by choice that harass you when you walk by. The Invalids call themTuskin Raiders, or however you spell it, by the way. The point of all this is there is one bug in partic- ular that often roams the streets of Berkeley that needs to be flicked around a bit. With good rea- son. This one being just one of a million examples why punk rock will never be able to sustain any sort of major cultural relevance, especially when it comes to radical politics.
I aim my now bug-trained eyes at the head of a dirty, anemic looking individual named Jeff Ott, front man of the punk band Fifteen. For all pur- poses, now and forever, Jeff is Fifteen. Why does Jeff, who some would say even looks like a bug, need to be uprooted into the sun- light? You know, the peacey, sorta weirded-out hip- pie punk guy that played on all those great Crimpshrine records?
Fine, I say. Analyzing Fifteen lyrics would be a great exercise in any critical thinking class. In Fifteen lyrics you find not only obvious contradiction but numerous flaws in basic rational thinking ability. Police were able to intercept her attempt, so she went at a cop with a machete. The cop killed her in defense.
And the Telegraph bugs attempted a bug stampede, what would be called a riot were they human. Often as an excuse to be nasty to someone or a group of people. An all too fitting example rests in the misspelled lines of the latest Fifteen thanks list.
What Ott neglects to mention is the brutal ass-kicking Think received for that little stunt. Ben, on the other hand, came out of the incident only a little shaken. Big deal, you say? Wiping away the glossed over, bullshit hippie rhetoric we discover that Jeff is really no differ- ent from most people who believe violence is an appropriate tool for getting across a point. All of the above I note with some feeling of gross amusement. Nothing new, really. Their second full-length was one of the best records of that year.
Their latest CD I bought giving the band the benefit of the doubt. Poor production, stupid-ass lyrics, a know-all aura of fake activism, and my pet peeve: shoddy presentation. On the text is enlarged rubber-stamp art of the hippie variety: stars, the moon and sun. These aquarian-age hieroglyphics are printed in dark ink OVER the lyrics, making parts of every song illegible.
Note: The printing outfit that allowed this mess to go through its production department, proudly credited too, is none other than Punks With Presses. If you have something to say — Fifteen apparently does NOT — at least make it readable. It is time, kids, for the bugs to crawl back into their holes.
At least those bands by their representation are automat- ically more honest. Why this struck a nerve is because his article was devoid of a cou- ple of characteristics commonly associated with punk: a questioning nature and a critical stance, especially of established authority. Joe, instead of addressing some of the issues he raises i.
The Internet is an extension of our pol- yarchical social, political and economic structure, and not a positive one at that Sure, Internet access is obtained by anyone who desires it, and anyone who wants to and knows how, can turn on, tune in and boot up. Five years ago, pre-AOL and the media lauding this new use of technology, this might have meant something.
Today, just about everyone is on-line and typing away. The signifi- cance of this? I fail to see any. With so many peo- ple talking, and engaging in what amounts to worthless gossip, ass-kissing, and arguing, nobody is listening. More on this later, I promise It boils down to wasted bandwidth. Gone is any real crit- ical thought, accurate exchanges of information and constructive discussion.
Thanks to media over- hype a few years too late I might add and AOL may it rest in peace , the Internet — which was once functioning anarchy courtesy of some sub- branch of the federal government — has deni- grated into a mass of functionally illiterate static noise. Today I spend less time on the Internet than I ever have. My time there is mostly restricted to cor- respondence it would have otherwise cost me money to send. My last attempt at doing so was an interruption of a flame war between zine scenesters who were arguing presentation aesthet- ics and how they affect sales of publications.
Nobody bothered to reply. In fact, for all intents and purposes, the argument was effectively ended because I tried to bring the debate down to a level where reason and insight were valued more than name-calling and virtual sparring. Nobody gave a shit Like in real life, people want dirt, they want flare, they want name calling. Punk Internet users in particular have turned this fascination into a virtue — see again altpunk and its idiot tendencies. Part of it is getting older and growing away from that level of immaturity though, I still engage in it periodically if it suits my purposes.
More importantly, computers are a hazard to my health. Every single time I press a key on the key- board, pain is felt in my fingers, wrists, elbows and arms. I have Carpal Tunnel Syndrome from only six years of using a computer. Since so much of what I do — namely, writing — is reliant on computers, I am forced to make the absolute most of my time at the keyboard.
Out of anything in life, this is what bums me out the mostWriting is what I do, it is what is important to me, and the prospect of having my capabilities to write severely curtailed is nothing short of depressing. While the medium itself is utilized and made relevant or irrelevant as the case is by the masses, the populace is NOT in control of the medium. Foothill Blvd. In the article, Karn equates the Inter- net to feudal modes of subsistence.
The telcos, in other words, control the media of production. In this light, the relationship between Net users and the telcos might be compared to the long out- moded feudal structures of Medieval Europe. Despite the fact that users cultivate the Net by constructing new interactive sites, by maintaining bulletin boards, by assembling data archives, etc. I guarantee the time you spend ordering this worthwhile publica- tion, and others similar to it, will give you more brain fodder than 10 hours worth of alt.
If the Internet is what the indi- vidual makes of it, the Internet sure has a sorry track record to account for. And more importantly, why. Tim at Maximum was unaware of this. He told me this over the phone, and I was unable to correct the original version of the arti- cle in Second Guess 12 it was already pasted up , and I neglected to take it out of the version printed in Punk Planet.
For the record. It is still sold to the Tower Magazines chain however. I must admit to not understanding it one bit. Quite a bizarre little pattern I say. Big things that happen usually are gonna happen no matter what. Or maybe avoiding the wars while sticking out the little skirmishes. In general playing along with the flow of things seems to be working out in my favor. Doing what feels right not necessarily good, but right at the time has put me in some pretty good situations and surely kept me out of some bad ones.
Joe was always looking for. Me and my over-analyzing. I guess that this little column is just further evi- dence of that fact. Maybe after that I can move up to life. The thing is that even when things are going great or maybe I should say especially when things are going great the least expected worst thing hap- pens.
You know the usual car breakdown, argue with a friend, get sick, anything. Happy-streaks seem like a fairy tale adventure. There was a time when I was happy so much people were sick. The more I truck on on this roller coaster the more things get piled in my little buggy to spill out on the big hills, before I only had to worry about keeping my hands in.
The fearlessness of youth, eh? It seems kind of masochistic too because whenever my pile seems to get to a comfortable load I add on more to make it all the more perilous. I seem to like it being not easy. The real beauty of it all though is the fact that everynight I stay up till I can no longer function.
I had to take a nap today because I was so out of it A nap! I have made sleep my life-long enemy. Anyway that I can avoid it I do. If I could fit more hours into a day I would, of course not so I could enjoy them, but so I could find ways to make myself miserable with them.
A good kind of mis- ery though like the band! I think it can all be summed up in one statement. Life is like good grindcore. So just remember. Just flow. Z Did I mention I do a perzine? Y Write me! Ya know you want to! Until next bi-month! I have all the records a personal thank you for Hot Char- ity.
Watch for it. Final and damning. I have hope for the youth. In the book of Revelation it says that a new heaven and Earth will be made for these worthy insurrectionaries. Trust me, the apostle John had no idea of its breadth in majesty, as only religious maniacs like me can see the grandeur in the ultimate and supreme: the beauty of something new. This was touched upon in a recent issue of Second Guess, but I need to get some all the same. What is it like to be famous?
How much is egomania inspired by sexual frustra- tion? How capable is the public at large of pro- cessing the intimate sexual details of those willing to divulge them? Keep in mind that only cloying intellectual types like me can want as much as I can, and I want it badly to the extent that I have potentially destroyed sever- al friendships in the midst of a kind of unreasoning insistence that I should get what I want, when I want it.
So at any rate, if you ever run into me you will notice that I am none other than the innocuous little seer of hardcore good-fortune that I would 24 otherwise seem to be in these pages. I lamented my immortality complex last issue, so let me have it kids. I can take you on.
Music comes first, but sex is a close second. Just when I was starting to get sincere last issue with the remote possibility of being taken seri- ously as a writer, I throw it all away for this. Can you blame me for writing the same col- umn every issue? Do you doubt me? Nearly famous? Says who? Maybe my appeal for free sex will come to something after all.
Minnesota is all me. Is Chicago co-opting the nearby heart- land of lutefisk, warm milk, and atrocious Scandi- navian accents? The mid-tempo mosh precisely executed is the soundtrack that will save us all. In more recent news I have returned from the desert to rind my promised land in northeast Minneapolis. With recent bus strikes incapacitating the immobile youth of whom I claim membership, I have taken my days slowly, waking up at eleven in the morning, get- ting some pita bread and hummus from the local eats and waiting for the whole thing to blow over.
Debut records avail- able on Estrus and No Lie. In the traveling I have done most recently I will say that the torch bums brightest in the Midwest, the South and most importantly, Canada. Quebec province being my personal favorite, a spiritual capitol for all of North America in the things that make life enjoyable for the erudite, discriminating Generation X so-and- so, including readily available Orangina.
Intimidatingly beautiful, unaware and uncaring for convention are the inhabitants of this serene province. Earlier this summer in St. Romuald as if in some bizarre recreation of a Rev- elation Records melodrama, Beligian crest-gods HIATUS play it up to the local inhabitants having the time of their lives. I love it. All French, no Eng- lish. This is my fantasy remember? It begins and ends with the kids in Quebec.
This is all I have to say, if I woke up tomorrow and the sky were a differ- ent color, at least that would be something. I mean even military geek literatusTom Clancy debunks this in his recent work Debt Of Honor with a brilliant Japanese kamikazing with the Capitol Building.
Whatsa matter, are you PC.? Are you offended, ya fuckin cunt wetback? Well too bad, I can say whatever I want. Nyah nyah nyah. First Amendment, free country, blah blah blah. Adolescent or what? Much of what I read in the alterna-media in the last few years embodies this juvenile attitude exactly. Maybe I bitch to my friends.
Uh uh. Not me. And so, here I am. Asking for it, as they say. If you let women tell their stories, men might have to shut up. If gays complain, straights are being abused. I have, however, gotten mighty pissed off at things I have heard, seen, and read. Now I get a label. Femi-Nazi, P. Of me. How did this happen? This great land of ours was built on geno- cide, rape and slavery. The descendants of the survivors are still subject to extreme dis- crimination on many levels, the most obvious, perhaps, relating to distribution of wealth.
Also, watch ten Hollywood movies and count how many black men survive until the final credits. Can we talk about Pocahontas for a second? There is no proof whatso- ever that any of it took place. If you like that kind of thing.
Rape and bat- tering of women by boyfriends and husbands is still something of an institution. Women still earn far less money than men for the same work. If they can get it. I begin to wonder if some people have enough to do. A few lit- tle well-chosen words can really do some dam- age. You have a right to use them, sure, but the people they offend have a right to speak up, too. I first became aware of this phenomena while I was attending a wealthy private college.
I was there on scholarship and was significantly older than the majority of my classmates. Invariably there would 25 be shrill whispers after and sometimes during class; the dread two letters very much in evi- dence. Thereafter, too, the offending person would be subject to stares and whispers.
A lot of them live right here in my town. They can have a nervous breakdown order- ing a cup of coffee. For example, people these days seem to fancy themselves some kind of revolutionary for consuming pornography. Whether I like porn or not is moot. If you want to use it, okay. Welcome to my brain. Bring a lunch. Stay all day. Speaking of attitude, those of you who read my column whoever the fuck you are; this mys- tery has yet to be revealed to me. I write this on a train. What, you ask, the fuck, does this have to do with anything?
I also witnessed a pretty funny cultural meltdown at a local pizza place - the joint was full of construction workers. And me. That in itself was interesting enough, but then a large crowd of alterna-dudes came in. One of them had some wide racing stripes shaved into his head. It was a Lookout! T Experience, and The Queers. Not to mention the excellent company, but of course. I have another band to plug, a band I saw at the Warped show this summer okay, go ahead and laugh - a lot of it was stupid but it was sorta fun called Red 5.
Check them out. I hope to see them again myself as soon as possible. Violation Fez 3 The Travel Issue is still available. Ironical- ly, though I could become dinner myself if the alligator ever figured out how to climb up on the porch and push its way through the sliding screen which is all that separates me from the call of the wild, I feel safer and more secure than I have any time in the last few weeks. And why is that? Could it be that my psy- chotherapy is finally having positive results?
In what has become an annual ritual, September finds me on the road in search of America or something like it, and this marks my next to last stop on a 1 7 state, mile odyssey that has left me alternately exhilarated and phenomenally depressed. Only a heavily armed or truly foolhardy man would wander alone through much of what used to be downtown Detroit, yet when I was nine years old my very protective and conservative parents saw nothing wrong with letting me go there by myself for my piano lessons.
The city was full of life then, three big department stores with windows brimming full of things to beguile and amaze a wide-eyed little boy, people coming and going everywhere, honking horns, policemen blowing their whistles, colored lights and the promise of adventure in the air.
I see ghosts, the ghosts of the people who once lived and worked and laughed and played here, the ghost of the lit- tle boy for whom this once was a land of wonder, and most of all I see the ghost of America. So too it is with America. Though we may be virulently opposed to the government as it now functions, or to the system of corporate capital- ism that dominates our economy, we are as much a product of America as is the rock and roll music that occasionally unites us.
None of this should be taken as an endorse- ment for flag waving or an announcement that I have become a card-carrying Republican. Just the opposite, in fact: in my opinion the right wing Republicans and the wimpy Democrats who are trying to imitate them are as fundamentally un- American as the German Nazis with whom they have a good bit in common.
What it does mean is that I grow more and more uncomfortable with a punk rock culture that is largely con- cerned with crawling up its own ass while the world around it crashes and burns. I was originally attracted to this scene at least as much by the politics as by the music; since then punk politics has become virtually an oxymoron. The vast majority of punk rockers are consumers, pure and simple.
The handful who still champion some cause or another show a predilection for wildly unrealistic and often downright destructive ones. Case in point: much of what passes for a political punk movement has been caught up late- ly in defending the O. Simpson of the under- ground, one Mumia Abu Jamal. Jamal is on death row for supposedly killing a cop; whether he actually did it is open to speculation, though the preponderance of the evidence would seem to suggest that he did.
I know some of you will think differently, but these are hardly progressive causes. Nationalism, whether black, white, or red white and blue, is the last thing we need at a time like this. All of these movements had one thing in common: something called identity politics, a way of thinking that claims the color of your skin or your religion or country of origin, etc. Instead, it gets supported or at least condoned by well- intentioned radicals or liberals on both sides of the color divide.
As an indication of just how sick things can get, we see O. Simpson, wife beater and most likely double murderer, turned into a civil rights symbol. If so, you could always join a right wing Christian militia, or you could support a black nationalist, Islamic revolution. I think much the same process is at work in making the photo- genic Mumia Abu Jamal a poster boy for a new generation of erstwhile radicals.
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Have the catalog numbers handy. A full catalog with hundreds of items will be sent with your order. Stores call for wholesale information at All orders sent 1st class or priority in US, airmail to Canada, surface elsewhere unless additional postage added. So for this interview, I decided to separate them and interview the individual members separately.
Interview by Scott MacDonald. Chuck: I was just working at a store. PP: Were you in any bands before Weston? Chuck: Yeah, but not that played outside of the Lehigh Valley. PP: Is that an embarrassing part of your past? Chuck: Only my first band was. We were called Youth Crisis and we were totally straight edge. But we did it so cheese-ily. PP: What do you see Weston doing in the future?
Chuck: I want to go around the world and become a rock superstar. Chuck: I wish. I grew up watching Kiss and Cheap Trick and I always wanted to be a rock star. Everything I do when we play, like every stupid move is either stolen from Rick Neilsen or Ace Frehley.
Chuck: But for what reasons though? Chuck: For how stupid we act onstage? Chuck: Some days you just do that. After just being around music for so long, I mean, I hate to say it but you get sick of it. PP: So how long was your last tour? Chuck: Nine and a half weeks. PP: And you pretty much got burnt out on shows?
PP: That brings up another thing I wanted to ask, a lot of your songs that you guys still play are totally old, like dinosaur for example, do you get sick of those songs? There are some songs we get sick of and stop playing but then start again later. Tonight we played Mr. PP: You guys probably have enough songs for a new album, right? Chuck: Almost. Chuck: No, we usually work the newest stuff into the set because we want to see how it goes live. Chuck: laughter erupts from Chuck I don t know.
Going back to school and flunking. PP: Did you go to college at all? C huck: Yeah, lots of times. I went to Penn State for a year and a half and I went to two community colleges three times. I was mostly going because I had this feeling like I should be going to school, it kinda gets drummed into your head.
This country is so degree happy, you have to have a degree in something, worthless or not. So I just felt like I had to go, but I was so sick of it, I couldn t take it. I hate learning when someone tells you what you have to know. I do so much reading now. I just hate enforced learning. PP: So you just said all that, but before you said you'd still go back to school.
I don t think I could start another band after Weston. PP: Do you live off the band? And every weekend when we go out, all the food and stuff like that is band money. PP: Do you make money or lose money on tour? PP: Why do you think that happened? We got a rock through the win- dow, dropped off of an overpass on a highway coming into San Francisco, coming in route PP: Did you get to keep the rock?
Chuck: I got a piece of it. But I got a piece from the windshield wiper. PP: How did you book the tour? Chuck: Newmyer does nothing now. I know he did a mail- ing list thing. The only thing that I know, he did this thing, I do. PP: Yeah, that's how I know about Chris. It was basically a show listing. But I thought that whole thing was PP: It was really positive towards you guys. Chuck: I know but, every answer that I read, it seemed really condescending. It just seemed so queer Sandy is just our manager and she does everything that we re too incoherent to do.
PP: What is that? Chuck: The stuff that we were really bad at before, like keeping our schedules straight. We had this calendar, and pretty much all the calls came to me and Jeramiah, but we could never keep anything straight. She does that, she does a lot of booking shows for us and stuff. PP: Why don't you guys do it yourself anymore? We re just like, Oh, Boston, cool. Just stuff like that we re just not good at. She does a lot of stuff that we totally cannot do. PP: So she's like the professional end?
Chuck: Yeah, basically. PP: What labels have you been talking to? PP: No. PP: So you guys are looking around for a new label? Chuck: Well, we also met with Charles. So we need to get money, for Jim, to quit his job so he can tour with us. PP: Have you got much money from the records? Chuck: No, because all of that money just goes back into like, t-shirts.
And any profit we make is for when the van decides to have a problem, and then we have to go spend all the money that we make on fixing the van. The van is like psychic and sneaky. PP: Have you guys had any interest from major labels 7 Chuck: Not really. Kinda but not really. And someone from Epic called Sandy up and asked her to send the disc and stuff. And I think some- body from Arista wanted the disc. PP: Why is that? Chuck: The big qualm with major labels? PP: Do you see yourself as a punk rock band?
Chuck: According to me we are. But definitely ask that because I want to know what they say. I pretty much know from talking in the van. Jeramiah will say that I am punk rock therefore we are a punk band. PP: Guilt by association. Chuck: What? We do? PP: Really? Does that bother you? Chuck: No. PP: Why not? We had one day in New York when we had three meetings, and on the way home I was so messed up.
I don't want that stuff going through my head, I have other stuff going through there, like my normal life. I just want to tour all the time. The more you tour, the more people see you, the more people come see you the next time. A few more things were discussed, but my tape recorder fizzled out PP: So, the band is named after you? Dave: Well, my parents. Moreso the parents, they did more for this band than I ever have.
They let us play in their house and keep them up at night. PP: So the name is sort of a dedication to your parents? Dave: Yeah. PP: Where do you see the band going in the future? I would like it to be to the point where our songs are in movies and stuff and the band becomes a big launchpad to our film careers.
PP: Are you serious? PP: Do you write most of the songs? Dave: Any guitar lick that you hear, I wrote that. Dave: Not entirely, no. I think in certain aspects, like our attitude is, I guess punk, about certain things. PP: Do you think punk has to be political? I think, actually we were talking about this not long ago, and some of the punk- est people are people who are not into punk. But I think a sense of humor is important. As for me, it was something I really took an interest in. PP: Like rock clubs?
PP: So you're a rock band that plays punk shows? And all of our friends are punks, and the people we like and respect are punks. But every band has those nights. Dave: Oh yeah, I know we have bad shows. You can probably ask some people who videotape us to see us at our worst.
Everytime we take it out of the van more and more of it falls apart. Dave: Oh yeah. PP: What do you do? Dave: Take it with stride, I guess. But I do stuff like that, I try to wake up people. Like, we played at that Columbus fest. PP: Yeah, you guys play a lot of hardcore shows. After viewing several so un-innovative "real stories" Red Joan, Fisherman's Friends and "social realism" films The Last Tree, VS - even though VS's world of rap battles was fascinating I was getting really disappointed in British cinema.
Hope Gap made up for all that. It is beautifully acted Annette Bening is extraordinary deep and subtle, and does carry you away. Hope gap movie review. Hope gap synopsis. The most human character on television ended up being an anthropomorphic horse. Hope gap william nicholson. Hope gap reviews. Hope baptist church. Hope gap trailer nederlands.
Home garden victoria cd. Hope gap tallard. Hope gap streaming. Hope gap trailer subtitulado. Seitdem erfreue ich jedes Jahr mehr als You never knew with the Doors. R est in peace Ray. This genius is amazing, live, in concert. Epic Rock Anthem As well as the all star concert there's never before seen footage from The Doors archives and new Interviews from Densmore and Krieger.
It's a one of a kind documentary about a very special person and a legendary rock band. The doors 3a break on thru- a celebration of ray manzarek new. Wow, I can't wait. The doors break on thru - a celebration of ray manzarek trailer.
The doors 3a break on thru- a celebration of ray manzarek songs. Love you Jim, will see ya' soon, 4 more years. The doors break on thru - a celebration of ray manzarek review. Thank you Robbie. You can't know how much I appreciate your music. East Coast kid, no longer kid listening since the beginning - still listening. Best to you and John. The doors break on through a celebration of ray manzarek. I think that val kilmer did a better job sing like jim but manson did an awsome jobThe doors 3a break on thru- a celebration of ray manzarek youtube.
Break on thru celebration of ray manzarek and the doors. What a bright soul There's still myth and legends walk among us. The doors 3a break on thru- a celebration of ray manzarek. The doors 3a break on thru- a celebration of ray manzarek pdf. The doors 3a break on thru- a celebration of ray manzarek tiktok. The doors 3a break on thru- a celebration of ray manzarek remix. Orgasmo musical que se fala? Led Zepplin. Ray Manzarek is awesome, he speaks the truth. Ray Manzarek is a keyboarding amazing.
Rick is a genius! I miss you. Ray has some of the most beautiful keyboard parts ever written. Break on thru a celebration of ray manzarek and the doors. The doors 3a break on thru- a celebration of ray manzarek yt. The doors break on thru a celebration of ray manzarek. The doors 3a break on thru- a celebration of ray manzarek lyrics. Ray was a legend, should never took up smoking though.
The doors 3a break on thru- a celebration of ray manzarek canvas. Glad to see Robby is still jamming and continuing the Doors legacy. This band still remains one of the top idols in American musical society. Critics ConsensusNo consensus yet.
Go backEnter your location to see showtimes near you. Ray became the beating heart of The Doors and the architect of their intoxicating keyboard sound. Manzarek's evocative playing fused rock, jazz, blues, bossa nova and an array of other styles into something utterly, dazzlingly new. The film also includes rare archival footage of the band, conversations with Jim Morrison and Ray Manzarek, and esteemed music journalist Ben Fong-Torres, as well as new interviews with John and Robby.
So nice that this footage exists. Just love the Doors. That line about the sunset and the mother and father metaphor was the most beautiful line I've ever heard. He's becoming one of my biggest guitar inspirations at the moment. The doors 3a break on thru- a celebration of ray manzarek design.
RIP ray,and Jim,and thank you for the soundtracks that changed my life forever. The doors break on thru - a celebration of ray manzarek. I didnt realize he was so Californiaized. He speaks with all the hippy surfer jivewww. That's it. All rights reserved. I never got a response, and I don't know why this film from a major director was completely overlooked here. This film is a notable return to form for Malick as a narrative writer. I believe that this film merits a discussion here.
Please discuss. A Hidden Life download download. A hidden life torrent download. A hidden life full movie download. A hidden life soundtrack download. A hidden life download legendado. I just can't watch a movie filmed this way…The first 3 and half minutes are Marks review for Punch drunk love. A Hidden Life download the adobe. He has already embarsed him self asking dawn out so this is only going to end in tears.
A hidden life p download. Well done. Can i stay there for a couple of week to ease the stress. Terence Malick has made some unique and wonderful films. This time, I feel he's reached a 'style over substance' moment that can't be overlooked. The story of a conscientious objector during WWII is certainly a workable topic. But this movie seems determined to be another ethereal art piece that's sort of a movie.
The narrative is kept simple, not reaching the soulful depths i was expecting. The cinematography is fine but it's not life-changing. I mean, the location is really the star, and the angles and shots are merely relaying a background of beauty; in other words, filming in the Bavarian Alps you tend to get a lot of breathtaking shots.
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