KiwiCoromandel
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Posts posted by KiwiCoromandel
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we`ve got half a dozen chooks running free range around our property...they give us a decent amount of nice fresh eggs every week...they do tend to look a bit nervous though, when my 6 year old daughter loudly demands kentucky fried for dinner.....
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Im not afraid of him. I think its a bad strategic tactic to act like you are afraid of this guy and to make announcements as such.
Body bags? What are these people thinking?
it`s bullshit...there is no terrorist threat to the g8 conference....they`re thinking ..." let`s tell everyone that those ill -informed, uneducated, anticapitalistic misfits campaigning against the social and environmental ravages of globalisation and rigid free market policies are violent, troublemaking scum, possibly all closely related to iraqi baath party members...we can do this by psychological means, and first thing we`ll do is order a whole lot of bodybags...and if we`re lucky we can get the media to add to that paranoia "...fucking outrageous
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wow guys, talk about back to the future...we heard this news on talk back radio down here in nz last week...bush was asked this question in europe at the d- day memorial and categorically stated " no " which we all know is politicians code for " yes, but not till after we get re-elected "...
guess we`ll be seeing a lot of you down here in new zealand soon (there`s already a lot of american families settling down here in nz because we have a nuclear - free policy)...or else there may be a lot of volunteers for the upcoming missions to mars.....i`m not sure if they have the draft up there..you might be lucky...
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Aye, what kind of dick wishes death on people?
...a morriseydick...here`s a good title for a new thread..." morrissey should have died "....
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so...i guess everett was the butt of the joke then....
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the old man didn`t have a dogs show......how about this one?...
"The baby's father, Mr Amos Mamman, said he had got the dog from a distant village and brought it home. After he had gone to the farm, his wife laid her newly circumcised baby in the room and engaged herself with routine domestic chores until she heard the baby's unusual cry. As she dashed to the room, she found the small dog feasting on the baby's penis, while one of his testes had already gone, the man said. "The baby was naked on medical advice as he was
newly circumcised and could not wear a nappy,' the father explained. He said the dog might have been attracted by the oily medicine applied to the penis and mistook the genitals for prepared meat." — Vanguard Online (Nigeria)
____________________________________________________
Why The Dog is a Friend of Man
Long, long ago the Jackal and the Dog were friends and lived in the bush. They hunted together every day. In the evening they came home and ate food together.
One day they did not catch anything and came back very hungry. A cold wind was blowing in the bush.
"Oh," said the Dog, "it is so bad to be hungry and cold!"
"Go to sleep," the Jackal said. "When morning comes, we shall go hunting again and we shall catch a young antelope."
But the Dog could not sleep. Then he saw a red light far away.
"Jackal," he cried, "what is that red light over there?"
"There is a village there, and that red light is a man's fire," the Jackal answered.
"Fire is warm, and it is cold here," said the Dog. "I say, Jackal, will you go and bring some fire? You are so brave!"
"No, no, I will not. You can bring it, if you like."
The Dog did not want to go, because he was afraid of men. But he thought "I am sure there are some bones near the fire. I can eat them, and the fire is so warm!"
He was so hungry and cold! Hunger and cold made him forget his fear, and he said to the Jackal "I am going to the village to get some fire and some bones. If I do not come back soon, please cry Bo-aa, bo-aa! Then I shall know where you are and where I must go."
So the Dog ran to the village. He saw a hut near the fire. There were some bones near the hut. They were so good for the hungry Dog! He came nearer to the bones, but then a man came out of the hut and saw the Dog. The Dog was afraid of him and cried "Oh please do not kill me! I am a poor Dog, and I want to warm myself by the fire. Then I shall go back to the bush."
"Very well," the man said. "You may sit by the fire, but when you are warm you must go back to the bush."
The Dog thanked him and sat by the fire. He was quite happy; he was warm and there was a big bone under his nose. He began to eat it, and then the man came out of the hut and asked "Are you not warm yet?"
"Not yet," the Dog answered, he saw another bone not far away and wanted to eat it too.
Soon the man asked again, "Are you not warm yet?"
Please let me stay a little longer, I am not quite warm yet," was the Dog's answer.
Then the man came up to the Dog. The Dog looked into his eyes and said "Yes, I am warm now, but I do not want to go back to the bush. I am often cold and hungry there. Let me live with you in the village, please! I shall help you to hunt birds and animals in the bush and forest, and you will give me some bones to eat."
"All right," the man said. "You may stay with me."
From that day on, the Dog began to live with the man, and when you hear the Jackal cry at night Bo-aa, bo-aa, you know that he is asking the Dog to come back. The Dog never answers, so now the Jackal lives in the bush alone.
the question is....would the man have let the dog stay if he had known that, when he died, the dog was going to eat him.? whatever happened to the jackal and did he finally move in with the dog once the old man was out of the way?
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I read something about the concert they were playing being the Scottish Download Festival... wtf?
http://www.nme.com/news/108706.htm
Metallica confuses me... BTW... that is one sweet picture CP. Although it makes him look a little bit less evil. I was looking for an equally good picture and i found something truly disturbing. Here is a picture that I found while doing a google picture search... I am just putting it in here because it is so fucking weird to find. WARNING CONTAINS NUDITY OF A LARS ULRICH NATURE AND SHOULD NOT BE VIEWED BY ANYBODY BECAUSE IT IS SICK!!
By the way, this was on page 2 of the google search... WTF? I wish that I had used safe search: DON'T CLICK ON THE LINK!!!
Ulrich Uncovered (ewwwwww) NSFW (or anywhere else for that matter)
nothing there to cover up......no wonder he hates everybody...
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or this beauty.....
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how about this one then....
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my kinda gal...
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one more for the road....
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and another......
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a view from new zealand........
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Heavy Metal (Takin' a Ride) by don felder from the 1981 movie " heavy metal "......
Heavy Metal (Takin' a Ride)
(Don W. Felder)
© 1981 Fingers Music (ASCAP)
Fire it on up and let's cruise a while,
Leave your troubles far behind.
You can hedge your bet on a clean Corvette,
To get you there right on time.
Now if you're ready to dive into overdrive,
Baby the green lights are on.
It's like you're running your brain on some high octane,
Every time she reaches fully blown.
Won't you take that ride ride ride ride, on Heavy Metal?
It's the only way that you can travel down that road.
Satisfied fied fied fied, on heavy metal,
Baby won't you ride, ride it until it explodes.
Heavy Metal!
My oh my, how this lady can fly,
Once she starts rollin' beneath you.
You know you just can't lose,
The way she moves,
You wait for her to finally release you.
It's not a big surprise to feel your temperature rise,
You've got a touch of redline fever.
'Cause there is just one cure that they know for sure,
You just become a heavy metal believer.
Won't you take that ride ride ride ride on heavy metal?
It's the only way that you can travel down that road.
Satisfied fied fied fied, on heavy metal,
Baby won't you ride, ride it until it explodes.
Heavy Metal
Heavy Metal
Heavy Metal
Heavy Metal
Heavy Metal
Heavy Metal
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Siouxsie Sue...from Siouxsie and the Banshees.....magnificent woman
fav tracks?..." spellbound " and " happy house ".
the masque
As zombies are doomed to haunt a graveyard, so London's late-Seventies demi-mode will never be allowed to rest in peace. Poor little greenies. Observe the Street-Style exhibition at the Victoria and Albert Museum where a definitive display of hybrid costume has taken itsplace among the reliquaries and Byzantine caskets. Observe dummies dressed in the outfits of coffee-bar cowboys and surfers, rude boys and fly girls, indie kids and modernists. And do not forget to remember Swinging London. This is a three dimensional photograph album in which, unless you are 11, you are doomed to spy an aspect of your former self, see how you were, re-experience past rejections, eating disorders, drugs and skin diseases. Surprisingly, no spectator seems to be blushing; they seem to be art students illustrating sketch books for their personal posterity.
Glam is in the second room: past the red feather boa and platforms; past lurex trousers by FB One to a sign saying, "the punk legacy cannot be exaggerated". Here string vests and army boots and clothes by Seditionaries and there the Kammgarn suit worn by Sid Vicious outside Marylebone Matgistrates Court-- Trevira and wool with a silver lame thread. "Imposing," said his mum. Around the old suit of dead Sid there is a customized leather jacket lent by Spit Edbanga and the Zandra Rhodes "punk couture" safety pin dress that, at the time, was more upsetting than the suicide of Ian Curtis because it meant that no matter how much you terrorised grown-ups, they still dared to escape from their ghetto.
Underneath, there is a neat row of T-shirts by Modzart. These "influential designs by John and Molly Dove" show Beatles 1975, Anarchy In The UK 1977, and in the middle, face, eyes and lips, Siouxsie Sioux 1980.
She is 37 now. She does not think of herself as an icon partly because she is not that conceited and partly because it would imply petrification. An icon is the moustache and beret of a meaningless revolutionary. An icon tends to be dead. And she has an album out this month. Her 14th to be exact. She is proud of it, and rightly, for The Rapture is a good work with sophisticated songs, a melancholy atmosphere and unpretentious orchestration. It was produced by John Cale who produced Patti Smith's Horses and had toured with Nico during her final narcolepsy. No, says Siouxsie, she doesn't feel old. Well, sometimes. But then, when she was 18, she sometimes felt as though she was 150.
Mr. Ballion was a drunk. He drank Newcastle Brown Ale out of bottles, then whisky chasers, and a lot of them. They are very unhelpful, drunks. Not at all what you would describe should anyone have ever asked you what you wanted in a father. They perpetuate fear, and leave scars, and cultivate an anger that never really goes away. They usually die, but this is of little help to those they leave behind. Indeed, those around them sometimes wished he would die. She hated him. Once she tried to poison him by putting salt and pepper in his drink, and as he drank it, his Adam's apple bobbing like a fairground attraction, she thought all the time, Oh my God I've done it, I've done it.
He was verbally aggressive rather than violent, although her sister, 10 years older, told horror stories of knives and pokers, smashed plate-glass windows. Blood. Her sister still hates him. But Susan knew that when he was sober he was lucid, funny and intelligent, that he liked books; Kipling for her, Sartre for himself. But she also remembers the trivial things that take on burdensome importance - the dolls' push-chair that was smashed when he fell over it sticks in her mind. She still pushed it but it never really worked, the wheels were buckled.
When school friends asked, "What does your father do?" she couldn't really say that he sat at home drinking, so she used to make things up. She never asked them home for fear of finding him in a stupor, or ranting, or in the middle of a gaggle of reeking public-bar cronies. He was a Pisces and now she always associates drinking with Pisces; his eyes would turn into fish eyes.
A violent streak ran in the family; neither her father nor her mother, Elizabeth, Betty, possessed any front teeth because her father's brother, Johnny, had gone berserk one night and smashed them both in the face. The Ballions had met in the Belgian Congo, she speaking French, he milking serum from poisonous snakes as part of his work as a laboratory technician. Her husband's drinking, or "disease" as it is sometimes also called, meant Betty had to work full-time as a bilingual secretary. She never talked about "it" and he was an "it" as far as the family were concerned.
Younger than the others, Susan was left to keep her own counsel, and look after herself as best as she was able. The garden at their home north of Petts Wood grew into a jungle - high hedges, a crisis of roses - until the neighbours ganged up and complained. The Ballions must prune their hedges, they insisted.
Order was required but order, in fact, hardly existed, for demons and "pervery" were all around. The sight of a man exposing himself was common up and down those Chislehurst streets; it was rare _not_ to see a flasher at Bickley station. There was one, in particular, Rolf Harris they called him, who rode his bicycle with his penis resting on the crossbar. Events took a more offensive turn, however when, at the age of nine, Susan was sexually assaulted by a man at the sweet shop. "I was too young to realise that I had been attacked - but my friend's father called the police." It wasn't until much later that she found out how common it was. In 1986 she wrote a song about it, Candyman. Yes, she says now, they were knee deep in wankers.
At school she didn't like boys so much. In games of Kiss and Chase other girls would allow themselves to be caught and kissed; if any unfortunate caught up with Susan she rammed grass in his mouth. Later, in clubs, if men goosed her she swivelled around and punched them.
Alcohol finally delivered Mr. Ballion to his Maker and when it did Susan, at 14, felt guilty because her wish had come true. They laid the body out and her mother finally cut the hedge.
What did she inherit from him? A love of books and a hatred of the medical profession. A bunch of quacks he called them. She agrees. But Mr. Ballion put her off marriage and the idea of a family; and, of course, excessive drinking, in herself and in others, always unnerved her. Later, on the road and in the pop business, whe thought that heroin addicts were the same as drunks - slumped, hopeless and boring.
Her sister was at art college and sometimes took her to the end-of-term shows - her sister knew arty men - men whose flamboyance and homosexuality attracted Susan because there was no threat. She was conscious of this. Conscious of being comfortable around men for the first time. "I thought, this is so brilliant. Nobody is hitting on me and you don't see men fighting and drinking too much and it all going wrong."
She took to dyeing her hair, inspired by the glam, but more extreme. Crazy colour. Black. Blonde. Eyes painted like Malcolm McDowell in A Clockwork Orange. She liked Nico and Patti Smith and Catwoman. All her heroes were heroines. And so, somewhere between doing the Strand and hearing Patti Smith's Horses album for the first time, Susan became Siouxsie.
"I wanted to be important," she remembers. "To mean something." She went on the bus in a see-through shirt, demanded a half fare and got one. She walked into Pips wine bar in Bromley leading her friend Berlin on a dog collar. ("We were," he recalled later, "up camp tree.") At one party, in Bromley, where sulphate was snorted off a turntable, she is remembered as sporting a plastic apron, a leather whip, and very little else.
Her mother was slightly worried. "Take a pully," she would say as her daughter, mind on the Velvets, style deranged by Cabaret, left the house in fishnets and stilletos and crystal clear plastic. "Take a pully. It might get cold." Later, her mother was proud of Siouxsie's success and, to Siouxsie's irritation, would invite the fans into the house for tea.
She thought she might be a model but she was too weird. She thought she might be a secretary but she ended up working in clubs. And everything about her said don't fuck with me because she looked tough and she took it further than everyone else. Siouxsie had a score to settle.
Then, on December 9, 1975, having debuted at St. Martin's Art School, the Sex Pistols played at Ravensbourne Art College in Bromley. Simon Barker saw them and told his friend Steve Bailey that they were good, like the Stooges. Word spread, from Steve to Billy Idol to Sue Catwoman to Siouxsie, who were like-minded anyway, united by daring accoutrements and inclination toward gay clubs. They started to go to the gigs, looking fabulous, men in enough makeup to frighten the neighbours, women with blue hair and a demeanour that looked as if the pill was about to wear off. As a fashion phalanx they became known as the Bromley Contingent, and were as important, in their own way, as the Sex Pistols. Certainly they moved the style and attitude forward. Old couldn't believe it; young wanted it.
The following year The Bromley Contingent followed the Pistols to France and Siouxsie was punched by an Arab. She was wearing a topless bra, black vinyl stockings and a black armband with a swastika on it. She liked Salon Kitty and disliked those who banged on about being in the war; the swastika was joke camp not death camp and she did not, then, appreciate the panorama of implications. "The Nazis were not only anti-Semitic but anti-anyone different, anti-anyone like me." The regalia backfired. The National Front started to pay attention and she was horrified.
Film maker John Maybury, who became a friend of Siouxsie's, remembers seeing her wear a swastika at a Pistols concert in London and thinking it was "fantastic". It should be remembered, he thinks, that the original punks were, "naff art students having a laugh. The swastika subsequently melded with the hindsight of political rectitude, but then, "it was fun being obnoxious".
Steve Bailey became Steve Severin (in deference to Masoch's assistant in his book Venus in Furs and the Velvet Underground song of the same name). He and Sioux planned a band with Billy Idol who deserted to join Chelsea and then Generation X. At the suggestion of Malcolm McLaren, Sid Vicious was elected to play drums. Siouxsie and the BAnshees played for the first time at the two-day Punk Festival at London's 100 Club on September 20, 1976. A wall of noise illuminated the fact that no one could play. Indeed, Severin had once refused to attend Dulwich College because music lessons were mandatory. Siouxsie said the Lord's Prayer. The melange lasted 20 minutes. They walked off, bored. The Clash followed them on. She did not envisage doing it for a living. "She is nothing if not magnificent," Caroline Coon wrote at one time. "Her short hair, which she sweeps in great waves over her head, is streaked with red like flames. She'll wear black plastic non-existent bras, one mesh and one rubber stocking and suspender belts all covered by a polka dotted transparent plastic mac." Another observer said that the set was "unbearable."
The next night a beer glass was thrown, a girl's face was cut, and Sid Vicious, then 20, was arrested. He found himself in the Ashford Remand Centre where, for distraction, he read a book about Charles Manson that had been given to him by Vivienne Westwood.
In December, Siouxsie accidentally earned an inmutable position in the history of pop culture by appearing on the television show that launched the Sex Pistol's carreer. Like poisonous berries, The Bromley Contingent were peculiar in taste and unusual in hue; they always added colour, so they were asked to accompany the Pistols on the Today show. Siouxsie, with platinum blonde hair and Droog eyes, presented a more interesting vista than Pistol Glen Matlock. Presenter Bill Grundy asked her out; Steve Jones called him a dirty fucker. It was a live broadcast. The world would never be quite the same again.
"When we went down to the Green Room," Malcolm McLaren told author and pop critic Jon Savage, "there was Steve and Siouxsie getting hold of all the ringing phones and saying, 'This is Thames, get of the fucking phone you stupid old prat.' The EMI chauffeur came whizzing through the revolving doors and said, "Come on boys I've got to get you out of this straight away. There's going to be a storm.'"
"From that day on," said Steve Jones, "it was different. Before then it was just the music - the next day it was the media."
Outrage, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder. Wild women attract publicity but are rarely offered any sensible business proposition because men still fear voodoo hoodoo and hex. They are scared to make eye contact, pray that the provocateur won't sit too close, hope that if they ignore her she night find her own way back to the ward. Weird witches are still seen as casting curses. Blame the crop failure in Courtney Love.
Jayne County will be remembered for the very wonderful If You Don't Want To Fuck Me Baby (Fuck Off) released in 1977, but she was, in the end, a bloke. Poly Styrene skipped out to play for a while and was banned by the BBC, but it is no coincidence that the Slits and Siouxsie, both aggressive, both early originators, took nearly two years to land a record deal. The Banshees were acclaimed as a great live band with enough songs to earn them consideration, but a contract eluded them. Someone with a paint can sprayed "Sign Siouxsie Now" on several record company buildings. It didn't help. Nor did Siouxsie's habit of insulting A & R men from behind her mike. They were turned down by Anchor, EMI, RCA, Chrysalis, CBS and Decca until June 1978 when Polydor, who signed The Jam, came forward. They gave them a three album deal with full creative control - a contractual obligation that underpinned their subsequent longevity and aided survival when all around exploded like mines in a field. Hong Kong Garden, released in August, went to number 3; the album The Scream to number 12.
In February 1979 Sid Vicious died of an overdose. A note to his mum said that he wanted to be buried in his leather jacket and next to his girlfriend Nancy Spungen who had bled to death in the Chelsea Hotel after he stabbed her in the stomach. As his exit came to symbolise the end of pop's psychotic episode, Siouxsie and the Banshees prepared for a British tour.
The relationship between Severin and Siouxsie was cemented when the guitarist and drummer, as Severin succinctly puts it, "ran away".
John McKay and Kenny Morris left their tour passes on their pillows and hopped on a train from Aberdeen. The show opened with The Scars followed by The Cure. The Cure continued to play and the Banshees failed to materialise. Then Siouxsie appeared on stage. "Two art college students have fucked off out of it...If you ever see them you have my blessing to beat the shit out of them."
Robert Smith (of The Cure) temporarily helped out as guitarist; Budgie (formerly of the Slits) was employed to play drums. Budgie is a strange little person, not least because of his equanimity around disorderly sisters; a man who can survive the Slits can presumably survive anything. Like the parakeet after which he is named, he is small and colourful and appears easy to please. "I got the nickname when I was sharing a flat with Holly Johnson and Paul Rutherford in Liverpool. Some guy was tormenting a budgie in a cafe and I went to its defense. Other guys had racing pigeons but I used to breed budgerigars - I had a great one called Bobby - as a kid I was called the Bird Man of Morley Street."
He had intended to study fine art and took a course at Liverpool Polytechnic. His father, a joiner, sometimes asked him if he was ever going to get a proper job. Budgie loves the band - sees it as show-business rather than pop music. He still enjoys walking into an empty theatre before a soundcheck. He likes rootlessness and the unexpected; touring makes him remember when the fair used to roll into town - strange and different and slightly dangerous.
Two years ago he and Siouxsie were married, although she says that, to some extent, she is also married to Severin. Budgie kind of stole her from Severin, but they all got over it. They live in France near Toulouse. They have a garden, and cats, and books. They might have children, now that she has recovered, a little, from her own past.
The early Banshees albums, eerie, echoey, urban and accessible, appealed to a thanatoid sub-sect of punk that looked like Morticia Addams in a frightwig. Unhappy Darling? Perfectly. These, the pallid and purple, liked the Sisters of Mercy, Aleister Crowley and frightening films about the undead. In 1981 they collected in the Batcave in Soho where Siouxsie songs - Mirage, Love In A Void, Christine - wove in with those by Bauhaus and The Specimen. Thus Siouxsie was reincarnated into Goth Goddess and so her career survived.
Billy Chainsaw, her personal assistant, affirmed this cross-pollination by frequenting the Batcave and, at one point, throwing a wedding ceremony in which his bride wore black, the cake was popularly believed to have been cut with a chainsaw, and Billy, also in black, was unable to wear a hat because "my hair was too big".
Chainsaw, who left shift work in a factory in Birmingham to work for Siouxsie in 1979, now also edits a magazine, Purr. Created by and appealing to the people that ebb and flow in his world, it is a confident mixture of illustration and underground writing and a reminder that this sub-culture has sprouted long roots. Purr's second issue featured an exclusive story by Hubert Selby Jr; its third the last story written by Robin Cook. A booklet illustrated by Edward Gorey is to come.
Siouxsie had gone off punk anyway when they gave it a name. She knew that once it had been recognised it would be limited in how it was perceived; the point would be missed because its strength lay in the broadness of sweep that was an attitude and a spirit. You are qualified, she still thinks, because you are good at something, not because you possess something that tells somebody else that you are good at something. She has long distrusted the judgement of others and the diktats of definition.
When she was small she could never understand why, because she was a girl, certain duties were assigned to her; now she faces "the misconception that being a female commodity stops at the age of 25". This she must dismiss, just as she knows she must wear what she likes. What is mutton dressed as lamb anyway and who cares? "I haven't reached the stage when I think, ooh, I better tone it down. I like people who can handle their age, take it and throw it back, like fuck you."
She has little time for people who think they know her because of what they have read and little affection for a music industry where "success" has become tawdry and ephemeral and sales are so rarely related to quality or content. She is caught up in a conundrum - she knows that creativity is often enhanced by limitation but resents the fact that Polydor will not spend more money on promotion - money that could be spent, among other things, on making touring more enjoyable. "It is to do with what people are told," she says. "We have never hired a shit-hot marketing team. I don't want to be a product."
But a product, in some ways, she is - a trademark even. The Banshees are seen to sell a predictable number of albums much as an author tends to sell the same number of novels, and, depending on who else is touring that year, they say they can be pretty sure to fill a 6,000 capacity hall in London, 3,000 in Europe and up to 15,000 in America. Thus, certain financial forecasts can be made by a record company unwilling to take risks. No, thank you very much, the Banshees will not be on a punk compilation with Sham 69 or any other band with whom they have never been associated. Nor do they wish to send out the same songs in a different package. "I want to be out there in the marketplace but I'm not doing it that way; that cheapens it," she says. "So I am seen as a prima donna bitch."
Lasting isn't important. She shrugs. They formed for a night. If this party finishes she will find another one somewhere else. But it's not over yet. "In hindsight we have been very lucky we weren't huge for a short amount of time." She would also like to be rich. "A million would do." A million would mean that she could make the albums but not be forced to release them. She likes making the albums.
The German installation artist Rebecca Horn seems to have been responsible for the interior of the Pump House in Rotherhithe; indeed, there is a possibility that, when particularly depressed, she made the whole of Rotherhithe. This vast dilapidated building houses a dark landscape where a discarded wheelchair and barbed wire fuse into subterannean passages and where, crumbling walls and old graffiti open out into a space where, for no apparent reason, there is light and warmth and people are selling army surplus. Around the outside there are lines of rusting Beetles and no visible entrance or exit. The Pump House is known in the film industry as a place where low-budget films are made. "Very poor catering," says one experienced regular. Very poor catering is right. Chips from a van and a piece of fruit cake. A lurex curtain reveals a podium full of Banshees: Budgie and Severin are wearing silver shirts and feathers; Siouxsie's wearing a gold-sequinned trouser suit. The podium is revolving, round and round, and a disco ball spits out those shimmying globs of light that cause convulsions. "Can we have quiet, please, this is a set not a party."
A bald Australian man named John Hillcoat studies a monitor. Hillcoat has been employed to make the video for Stargazer, the second single to be released from The Rapture. He is an interesting choice. In 1909 he released the extraordinary Ghosts Of The Civil Dead, a film about high security prisons in Australia. Since then there have been videos for Nick Cave and the German avant garde noise band Einsturzende Neubauten. The Banshees saw his film, Blume, for the latter, a finely focused use of simple but surreal images made by a film maker who knows that narrative must never be lost to the palette of the editing suite. The chaos of hi-tech quick-flash graphics and digital effects does not appear in the work of Hillcoat - he allows an idea to breathe. His videos are short films and they are different.
His promo for the Banshees' O Baby involved a baby beauty pageant in Flagstaff, Arizona. Hillcoat, who is fascinated by the macabre, both covert and overt, knew that the imagery would be of frills, curls and uncanny posturing as children from 10 months upwards competed for titles such as Tot Personality and Miniature Miss Talent. Research had also revealed a subtext, a dangerous undercurrent where fanatic mothers had lost control and beaten their daughters up for losing.
Siouxsie flew in and Hillcoat noticed that she was keen to record the scene backstage to tell the truth of this glitzy scenario. It was, in the end, a pop video, not a documentary, but she knew that silence was the Candyman's currency.
She had attended her mother's funeral the day before. So, on the set in Flagstaff, the Siouxsie mask was useful, a defence and a device that aided work. "She was very strong," says Hillcoat. "The consummate professional."
Behind lurked a bereavement that had been appalling. There had been cancer and, in Siouxsie's view, a series of medical mistakes. Then, suddenly, the telephone call to France that warned of finality. "I booked the flight but I was too late," she says "That was the worst thing, not saying goodbye."
John Maybury once persuaded her to remove the Siouxsie face for his Court of Miracles film series - he recognised that she was "a lovely looking woman," but that it was not her habit to take advantage of this. In Rotherhithe, the mask is the pancake face of traditional Chinese theatre for a narrative set in Hong Kong. Red flashes across her profile; thick black streaks slash over a crimson mouth: Siouxsie is definitely here. She is wearing the sparkly slacks, being photographed, thinking that this work with Hillcoat marks a new start for them, that the album will be a turning point. But there has been a moment, in the dressing room, between coats of paint as it were, when the bare face of Susan Ballion was revealed. A strong jaw, dark eyes, high cheekbones - it is still and sad and beautiful and you wouldn't know it was her.
Spellbound
From the cradle bars
comes a beckoning voice
it sends you spinning
you have no choice......
You hear laughter
cracking through the walls
it sends you spinning
you have no choice
Following the footsteps
of a rag doll dance
we are entranced
Spellbound
And don't forget
when your elders forget
to say their prayers
take them by the legs
and throw them down the stairs
When you think
your toys have gone beserk
it's an illusion
you cannot shirk
you hear laughter
cracking through the walls
it sends you spinning
you have no choice
Following the footsteps
of a rag doll dance
we are entranced
Spellbound
Into The Light
Into the line Into the light
I see it fine I see it fight
into the line Into the light
our hearts entwine a new horizon
Remember when Bleached into white
your time again kept out of sight
Standing in the light
always sitting on the line
never on a side
always wanting to be right Pushing out the light
Standing in the light
I never wanted to be right
Now I'm attracted by the light
and blinded my the sight
Dead ahead in the night
burning in the light
and knowing that it's right
driving in the night-Dead ahead in the light......
Into the light......
Arabian Knights
The jewel, the prize
looking into your eyes
Cool pools drown your mind
What else will you find
I hear a rumour-it was just a rumour
I heard a rumour-what have you done to her
Myriad lights-they said I'd be impressed Arabian Knights-at your primitive best
A tourist oasis-reflects in seedy sunshades a monstrous oil tanker
it's wound bleeding in seas
I heard a rumour-what have you done to her I heard a rumour-what have you done to her
Veiled behind screens
kept as your baby machine
Whilst you conquer more orifices
Of boys, goats and things
Ripped out sheeps eyes-no forks or knives
Myriad lights-they said I'd be impressed Arabian Knights-at your primitive best
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listening to the yardbirds album " birdland " as we speak....i`d love to see jeff beck live though...what a killer guitarist......
fav yardbirds track?...." i`m a man " and "stroll on " from the soundtrack of the Michelangelo Antonioni 1966 movie " blow-up "....i`d recommend the movie to anyone who wants to see page, beck and clapton at full speed on stage in the yardbirds heyday....
For Birdland, they recruited several special guests for a collection of both new and classic Yardbirds tomes. Joining the rave-up is none other than the band's second guitarist, Jeff Beck, who lays down his dexterous rough and tumble style on a new Dreja blues number called "My Blind Life." And then there's this seemingly endless list of next-generation hotshot guitar heroes: Slash, Steve Vai, Brian May, Joe Satriani, Steve Lukather, Jeff "Skunk" Baxter, and anyone else who ever strummed a six-stringer and thought that they too could one day be a Yardbird. Without all the extra help, the five-member core does an admirable job on stuff like "I'm Not Talking" and "Mr. You're A Better Man Than I." But when you have Vai sailing around the fretboard on "Shapes Of Things," Slash cutting loose on "Over Under Sideways Down," and a song written with Relf in mind called "An Original Man (A Song For Keith)" to close the album, Birdland is, for better or worse, the consummate tribute to the legacy like no other.
Artist: Yardbirds
Title: Stroll On
Keith Relf / Jeff Beck / Jimmy Page / Chris Dreja / Jim McCarty)
I`m Strollin' on,
'Cos it's all gone,
The reason why.
You made me cry,
By tellin' me,
You didn't see.
The future bore,
Our love no more.
If you want to know,
I love you so,
And I don't want to let you go.
I'm strollin' on,
Gonna make you see.
I'm strollin' on,
You'll find you really love me.
I'm strollin' on,
Be your turn to cry.
I'm strollin' on,
You wish you'd never lied.
You're going to change your mind,
But you ain't gonna find,
Any more of my kind.
I'm strollin' on,
'Cos it's all gone,
The reason why.
You made me cry,
By tellin' me,
You didn't see.
The future bore,
Our lovin' no more.
If you want to know,
I love you so,
I don't want to let you go.
I'm strollin' on,
Gonna make you see.
I'm strollin' on,
You'll find you really love me.
I'm strollin' on,
Be your turn to cry.
I'm strollin' on,
You wish you'd never lied.
You're going to change your mind,
But you ain't gonna find,
Any more of my kind
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My bad...he was listed as number 32. I brought up his name again because I want
the younger members to check out Happy Trails... :strumma:
completely understandable old bean......it`s for a good cause...the beatking music re-education program :read this:
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Was John Cippolina from the Quicksilver Messenger Service on this list - if not, he should be.
no, he isn`t, and yes, he should be
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lol--go back and listen to humble pie and then you will think differently...
And I just noticed that jazz guitarist John McGlaughlin was rated 49--lol, on a given day, this guy could blow anyone off the stage...
i have all humble pies live stuff and if any of you don`t think that frampton is any good just listen to humble pie : " live at the whiskey-a-gogo 69 " or " rockin` the fillmore (1971).......
When you think of classic "live" Humble Pie, it's pretty much a given to consider the Performance - Rockin' The Fillmore LP from 1971 -- possibly the pinnacle of the group's output. The little band that could came roaring out of the gate two years earlier. Often referred to as one of the first supergroups to emerge in the late 60s, Humble Pie was a tentative affair with a hybrid mix and a pop sensibility. Steve Marriott, who had made a name for himself in Small Faces, was already gnawing at the bit to unleash his signature yelp with all the soul and fury of a wild dog. Peter Frampton, late of the Herd, molded himself into an A-list guitarist, honing a style and sound that was, and remains, uniquely him. Ex-Spooky Tooth bassist Greg Ridley may have had higher expectations, but 17-year-old drummer Jerry Shirley was probably nothing less than elated at being part of a world-class rock and roll band. With two uneven, yet promising albums under their belts, Humble Pie set out to conquer America in 1969. The tape was rolling in Hollywood and Live At The Whiskey A-Go-Go '69 has finally found its way into the public arena. Even as their fortunes soured upon their return to England, this five-song CD is proof positive that the members of Humble Pie were on their way to bigger and better things.
Live At The Whiskey A-Go-Go '69 vividly captures Humble Pie at a crossroads. Uncharacteristically serene at times, all of the songs but one are lengthy covers that would do their respective composers proud. Although it was mildly received by the Whiskey crowd, the nine-minute, acoustic version of "For Your Love" almost eclipses the Yardbirds for its raw passion and execution. Johnny Kidd's "Shakin' All Over" is classic Pie boogie, highlighted by Frampton's frenetic guitar work.
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try this one....
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how about this one from new zealand....
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happy birthday joeyz
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zakk wylde and lynrd skynrd.... " red house " (live - bootleg mp3)...on the earphones....blistering lead break from mr wylde as we speak...sorry....i`ve got to go and enhance my " download state ".
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With Eric Clapton's Crossroads Guitar Festival going down this week, I think its only fitting that we take a look 'slow hand' himself', and other great guitar players this week. So what is your favorite Clapton band and why?
cream.... fav cream album?..." live cream vol 1 ". what a band cream were live! they were a world apart, just listen to the improvisational chemistry between the band members. this album remains one my most treasured possessions and that's for the musical value! in my opinion it is on a par if not better than the live portion of " wheels of fire ".
Live Cream
Producer: Felix Pappalardi
Recording Engineers: Bill Halverson, remix by Adrian Barber (except for the studio track – see below)
Released: UK – 6/70, US – 4/70.
Highest Chart Position: UK – 4, US – 15.
Eighteen months after their demise and 12 months after the last official release ("Goodbye"), these new live recordings were released. They had probably been prepared for the consideration for the proposed live album of the "Goodbye" double set. The reasonable chart success showed the continuing demand for Cream’s music.
In terms of ensemble playing this is, in totality, superior to "Live at the Fillmore" with the sound better balanced, especially the drums. It’s the best production job of all the live albums. The Winterland Ballroom had better acoustics than the Fillmore.,
Track by Track
NSU (Jack Bruce)
Eric – lead guitar, harmony vocals; Jack – bass, lead vocals; Ginger – drums.
[Recording: 10th March 1968 (2nd show), Winterland, San Francisco, Bill Halverson eng; Adrian Barber, remix
The syncopated opening is now extraordinarily effective with the amplifier power of the live performance. Once they finish the vocals they move into their unique ensemble improvisation playing: Eric is just as intensely creative, if not as compressed, as on "Crossroads, he just does it for longer and with more interaction with Jack & Ginger.
Jack and Ginger interplay between themselves and with Eric at a level that defies description. Their individual playing is stunning but it is within the group dynamics that they are incomparable.
With every listening it seems to get shorter!
Sleepy Time Time (Jack Bruce/Janet Godfrey)
Eric – lead guitar; Jack – bass, lead vocals; Ginger – drums.
[Recording: 9th March 1968 (1st show), Winterland, San Francisco, Bill Halverson eng; Adrian Barber, remix]
An extended version of the strong riff based blues from Fresh Cream. Not spectacular but a style of rock blues that few others could carry out as effectively. The strong Freddie King influence in Eric’s playing on the original has now been absorbed into HIS own style. Jack is in full shout mode playing endless subtle variations of the bass riff while Ginger just syncopates, fills and pounds the bass drum in his inimitable style. A too short bass solo, [Dave Walzer:] great Clapton cool dominant 7th comping , and totally searing bluesy, melodic, solos on this cut.
[Vinyl Side 2]
Sweetwine (Ginger Baker/Janet Godfrey)
Eric – lead guitar, harmony vocals; Jack – bass, lead vocals; Ginger – drums.
[Recording: 10th March 1968 (1st show), Winterland, San Francisco, Bill Halverson eng; Adrian Barber, remix]
I’m probably going to upset some fans but I think the improvisation is better then Spoonful, which was also from this show. This was the final song for the show (therefore the "see you later" at the end) and they are interacting and interplaying at a more refined level. It is a very jazz performance in that the dynamics of the playing shift between them and they are clearly responding to each other. Dan Tingstrom: "particularly that part in the middle where everything gets quiet and subdued and Ginger goes to the hi-hat (alternating open and closed) and the cowbell, while Eric is hitting a high group of notes or a chord....and Jack does the little solo thing that is so prominent!!!!"
This performance probably exemplifies Cream’s style and strengths as an ensemble. The vocals/basic song are just bookends to the real business of the extended group improvisation. That improvisation involves complex interplay between the three with Eric being the lead but Jack and Ginger, individually and in combination, pushing and pulling him down alternate paths. Eric has never, except for Duane, again played with ‘backing’ musicians of this caliber who were clearly Eric’s equal and in some aspects his superiors. Eric is jazzy on this, if only he played some jazz progressions! He has rarely been as instrumentally creative since, excepting the Layla album.
Rolling and Tumbling (Muddy Waters)
Eric – lead guitar; Jack – harmonica, lead vocals; Ginger – drums.
[Recording: 7th March 1968 (1st show), Fillmore West, San Francisco, Bill Halverson eng; Adrian Barber, remix]
Eric’s twin Marshall stacks juice this up compared to the original. Just like the studio recording it rips along with all three providing the unflagging energy. Ginger’s use of brushes is unusual in Rock, especially live, but listening to this it makes one wonder why. Jack’s harp playing is more effective in this group context then on ‘Traintime’.
as clapton said in an interview about creams` live performances..." we just took off at one end and saw each other at the other end ".
What Are You Listening To?
in Kickin' it
Posted
at the moment....gov`t mule.." the devil likes it slow "