Bite The Hand That Feeds You Shit..

This blog has been about as active as Phil Spector's music career as of late.. Mainly because I have been out fighting oppression on the streets and making love to literally thousands of MPs wives. After my daily breakfast of 4 sheets of blotter acid and half a pint of temazepam, I stick on a bit of Cult Ritual and I'm set to go. If for some reason, you DON'T listen to this band then I guess I've got a minute or two to explain..

Take the singer of Sum 41 (okay, maybe just in this picture), add a little weight and remove a chromosome, then chuck in some cut-throat vocals, visceral anti-everything lyrics and a volatile guitar and rhythm section that sounds like its throwing a serious hissy-fit in the carehome, and you're about halfway there. Oh, and noise, feedback and noise. They have no Myspace because they're punk as fuck but you can download everything they've ever recorded for free off their blog.

I'd go for their 2nd ep.. Shit hits harder than a phencyclidine milkshake.

FUCK Kicked Down..

These fucking losers robbed some X-Box shit and some paint from the flat of a Brighton promoter who put them up for the night and sorted them with food.

Message them abuse if you're bored..

Kicked Down Myspace

EDIT: Apparently it wasn't any of the band members but some ginger kid who was with them. I couldn't care less.. Message them for being ugly cunts anyway.

Please God No..

Glen Matlock writing Pretty Vacant II.

So I just read on Punknews that the Sex Pistols might be recording another album. That Glen Matlock wanker (the one who ate the cum sandwich and signed my t-shirt at a Borders instore when I was fourteen and fucking cool) rambled something along the lines of:

"The Sex Pistols? We've done our bit this year…we'll meet again in the new year and see what we want to do. We were not recording a new album - I think that journalists are making it up, but you can never say never. We all got ideas between us. It's a double-edged sword if you do it not good as the original, and if you don't do it people want to know why - but it's up to us. We are the masters of our own destiny."

Can't these senile old men put the instruments down and leave the punk to younger, more intense bands like The Script?

If I Had Silly Money..

Old fuckin' school..

Turn Cold..

Were fucking ill..

We Aren't Revolutionaries..

But we are the revolution..



Johnny Hobo and Mischief Brew.

Zen And The Art Of Breaking Everything In This Room.

I first heard the World/Inferno Friendship Society on the Leftover Crack track "Soon We'll Be Dead". I listened to some of their records and didn't know quite what to think.. I certainly wasn't sure about the vocals. It wasn't until I saw them live at the Engine Rooms that it clicked. About 10 of them came on stage (including some kid on guitar who couldn't have been over 11 and some fat accordion player with a perfectly styled moustache) and could barely all fit on it. Jack, the frontman, had this creepy energy about him and told some pretty funny stories while downing his bottle of red wine.

Basically, they sound like Dexy's Midnight Runners mixed with circus and gypsy music and punk "whoahhs". They're playing at the Prince Albert on July 21st and it's gonna kick off..

Their latest album is a concept album based on the life of Peter Lorre, the Hungarian-Austrian actor made famous in 1930's horror film M.

(2007) Addicted to Bad Ideas (Peter Lorre's Twentieth Century)

Hard Times.

Back before the Cro-Mags started making shitty hair-metal, they released an album that would eventually be regarded as one of the best hardcore punk albums of all time: the Age of Quarel.

This is the kind of record that sets hardcore nerds on jizz frenzies at it's sheer mention. Whilst most hardcore bands in the early days had been suburban bored teenagers screaming bollocks about angst and alienation, the Cro-Mags were violent New York street kids who didn't know how to fake being angry and aggressive. The were generally fucked off at everything.

John Joseph, who was on microphone duties before Harley took over and ruined everything, has just got about to releasing a book about his troublesome youth, in which he narrates some of the most insane stories you could imagine. Abuse, violence, drugs, prison, the Hare Krishna: he's seen a ridiculous amount of crazy shit. This book, The Evolution of a Cro-Magnon, is also available as an audiobook. You can download the whole thing below.

John Joseph - The Evolution Of A Cro-Magnon

Coming To Recruit Your Rebel Children..

Mischief Brew is the brainchild of Philly anarcho-folk singer Erik Petersen. They play a dirty mix of folk, punk, jazz, swing and country - it basically sounds like a bunch of alcoholic crust punks playing fast gypsy music and working-class acoustic numbers. Erik's voice ranges from quiet folk singer to a Tom Waits-style gravelly growl and his lyrics cover everything from the invention of the printing press to punks getting over the hill, plus the usual shit about pigs, the state, blah blah. If you ain't heard them, I recommend getting Smash The Windows first before getting the other stuff.

(2003) Bellingham & Philadelphia EP
(2003) Bakenal EP
(2005) Oh Sweet Misery 7"
(2005) Smash The Windows
(2005) Live At Coyle Street Collective Apartment
(2006) Songs From Under The Sink

Canadian Scum

So I went to see Fucked Up last night and they were fucking good.

I missed the first support band but caught the second one, The Dresdens, who were just a very boring, generic punk band with some arrogant, indecipherable bass-player who kept "rocking out". Did not like.

Fucked Up came on and Damian started the set by smashing a coke can and the mic on his already bruised skull, which as I gather he does at most of their gigs. It looked pretty fucking painful. Punk rock theatrics aside, Fucked Up played a long, energetic set interrupted frequently by Damian's jokes about 14 year-old Gallows fans and his eating habits.

The crowd was pretty random - there were quite a few middle-aged people, as well as a group of 15 year-old European girls wearing glowsticks who looked really out of place. Damian spewed coke on them a few times.