R.I.P.

[bosque]

:ziga:

[aram]

'80. bili the ruts

[SleeperSleep]

Bio je i Gof4 stranicu napred...

Nije bitno, namera mi je bila da spomenem nastup Ground Zero - na kom nisam bio :(

ja sam bio. u sali je bilo plafon 80 ljudi, sto ce reci da 90% onih koji danas kazu da su bili, lazu :)

 

inace, ja nisam pojma tad imao sta idem da gledam, a svirka je bila genijalna. posle su nastupili neki talijani (norma jean ili nesto slicno) i u sali he ostalo bukvalno 10 ljudi.

[Ras]

ja sam bio. u sali je bilo plafon 80 ljudi, sto ce reci da 90% onih koji danas kazu da su bili, lazu :)

 

inace, ja nisam pojma tad imao sta idem da gledam, a svirka je bila genijalna. posle su nastupili neki talijani (norma jean ili nesto slicno) i u sali he ostalo bukvalno 10 ljudi.

 

Nesumnjivo je da značaj tog nastupa prevazilazi prost zbir prisutnih i onih koji se kunu da su bili.

U to ime je i današnji npl.

[ajgor]

Lepo je krenulo sa koncertima, ali u bivšoj Jugoslavji  Beograd su često zaobilazile zvezde, pa i alternativni bendovi, npr. Sonic Youth su  pred rat bili u Sloveniji, a ne u Beogradu,  David Bowie u Zagrebu...

 

Rahmetli motherfucking promoter Toni Sabol, sabotirao je naveliko koncerte u ovim krajevima osamdesetih zbog lažiranja broja prodatih karata.

[kurdi]

Znam da su ljudi izmišljali da su bili na nastupu Ground Zero, ali sad vidim da se izmišljaju i čitavi koncerti...

ja sam bio, ali svima pricam da nisam... bolje nego da misle da lazem da jesam.

 

bilo je pred rat i drugih stvari... mega city 4, pa ride u skc-u i perfect disaster u kst-u isto vece (ride se ne secam nista osim da je jedan imao blur majicu a mi nismo znali sta je to blur, ali perfect disaster su razvalili, jedan od meni uticajnijih koncerata ikada)... i ipak daleko najbolji the gun club u skc-u, 1. ili 2. juna 1991.

 

(zasto se o ovome ovde raspravlja?)

[aram]

Rahmetli motherfucking promoter Toni Sabol, sabotirao je naveliko koncerte u ovim krajevima osamdesetih zbog lažiranja broja prodatih karata.

A sta je trebalo da radi, da dovodi bendove na 50 prodatih karata a u sali 300 ljudi?

[Frank Pembleton]

 

[jimi]

Gregg Allman, celebrated southern rock pioneer, dies aged 69

[maheem]

danas nas je napustio divan čovek Marcus Intalex aka Trevino, veliko ime drumandbassa i elektronske muzike :(
u petak smo ga spominjali, čak sam i dve njegove stvari pustio....

RIP :'(

 

itd, itd

Edited May 28, 2017 by maheem

[wayfaring stranger]

 

Juce naletim na ovu knjigu i odmah se setim ovog topica :)

[bad music for bad people]

 

Juce naletim na ovu knjigu i odmah se setim ovog topica :)

kolko stranica ima?

[wayfaring stranger]

kolko stranica ima?

 

Elektronsko izdanje. Nema cak ni sadrzaj. 13,5MB.

G G Allin

(Kevin Michael Allin - Lancaster, New Hampshire, 29 August 1956)

The Murder Junkies

(Various acts)

 

A motley collection of punks, thrill-seekers and deadbeats gathered at East Village’s Gas Station venue on the night of 27 June, eagerly anticipating the return of the world’s most notorious underground rock act (after a three-year custodial sentence for the onstage stabbing of a female fan). The converted service-station venue was a fitting one for a unique ‘artist’ like Allin: vast sculptures of car parts stretched upwards towards the damp ceiling, the pervading odour was of sweat, alcohol and stale gasoline. Then, there he was – naked as a jaybird and aching to corrupt yet another gathering of onlookers. Once again, Allin – gnashing and reeling after consuming a bag of cocaine that afternoon – uttered his infamous promise of four years earlier that he would commit suicide by gunshot before them on stage, but repeated that his audience must wait until a suitable Halloween night for such a spectacle. No, tonight, they would just have to make do with a compilation of Allin’s greatest hits – obscenity, vomiting, self-mutilation, onstage nudity and defecation, and a no-holds-barred physical assault on those attending. Within twenty minutes, when the soundman pulled the plug on the show (as was standard procedure), several audience members had been attacked with the microphone, a photographer knocked unconscious and a woman smeared in Allin’s excrement. The show ended in pandemonium; Allin then threw himself at a door, shattering the glass, lacerating his body and sending shards everywhere. A riot ensued, patrons smashing furniture and windows, bouncers attacking the protagonists with rocks – and the soundman setting his pit bull on anyone and everyone within reach. Minutes later, armed police added to the chaos. A bloodied, messed-up Allin somehow skulked away unnoticed along with his entourage, none of whom batted an eyelid at this all-too-familiar scene. Back at the apartment of his pal Johnny Puke, Allin – thanks largely to a vast quantity of heroin – calmed down at last. Leaving him to sleep off the effects of the drugs and his injuries, Puke, his girlfriend and Liz Mankowski, Allin’s 17-year-old fiancée (yes, somehow he had one), left the singer to sleep. By morning his wretched body was very cold – and very dead.

‘He was all purple. He had snot coming out of his nose and blood coming out of his mouth - and a big fucking scowl on his face. Typical G G really.’

Merle Allin, G G’s brother, on discovering his corpse

A character who could almost have been contrived for this book’s rumination, G G Allin always claimed his shocking act was ‘situationist’ and not a result of his frankly bizarre upbringing. Originally christened Jesus Christ Allin by his over-zealously religious father, the future shock-rocker and his brother and mother were forbidden by Allin Sr to speak after dark – some rumours even suggesting that the man had dug graves for his family in the basement, threatening their execution and his suicide if they refused to comply with his pious order! Needless to say, Allin’s mother eventually filed for divorce and changed her son’s name (his brother had already shortened ‘Jesus’ to ‘G G’), but by then Allin was already behaving in a disturbed manner. He was to find some outlet for his anger in the primal rock ‘n’ roll of The Stooges and New York Dolls – though the performances of these bands were far from sufficiently extreme in Allin’s eyes. As a young adult, there appeared every chance he might revert to a normal life (Allin married and fathered a daughter) but by 1980 he left this domesticity behind, emulating early hero Jerry Lee Lewis by taking up with a girl of thirteen. Allin’s music at this stage still just about fitted the description: with The Jabbers, he performed a hybrid of early Stones and Sex Pistols-styled rock ‘n’ roll, though the singer learned before long that it was not his music that attracted attention but his snarling stage performance – which, accordingly, became more and more alarming (as would his deeply violent and misogynistic lyrics). Apart from a stint recording with former MC5 members Wayne Kramer and Dennis Thompson, Allin fronted more ludicrously offensive bands by the year, bearing names like Afterbirth, The Drugwhores, Sewer Sluts, Scumfucs and, finally, The Murder Junkies. Allin – whose motto was ‘My mind is a machine gun, my body the bullets and the audience my target’ – recorded some twenty albums in his lifetime, though none of these bears much revisiting. He’ll always be better remembered for countless performances such as the one described above – and a long history of incarceration, usually for drug possession, public obscenity, violent conduct or parole violation.

So, instead of the dramatic spectacle he had envisaged, G G Allin’s passing was more a pitiful echo of so many rock ‘n’ roll deaths of the past. That he ever managed to impress respected names in US alternative music is frankly remarkable, yet among his supporters can be found Dinosaur Jr’s J Mascis and Sonic Youth’s Thurston Moore – both of whom claimed they’d wanted to work with the lunatic vocalist – as well as older-schoolers like Dee Dee Ramone ( June 2002) and Allin’s shock-rock contemporary Wendy O Williams ( April 1998), both of whom have also since died.

[bad music for bad people]

daj link

[aram]

 

 

Faith has been broken tears must be cried
Let's do some living after we die

 

Wild horses couldn't drag me away
Wild, wild horses we'll ride them some day