The idea here is that I keep my opinions to a minimum, and each issue publish a piece by a guest writer. This time, instead of a guest, you have me.
There's no guidelines. Anyone can write, gay, lesbian, straight, or homophobe. I'll publish as often as I get material. Your name will not be published, but I'll forward mail.
But I still catch myself wishing I could be in a band singing onstage with hordes of chicken 14-year-old skinhead nubile boys boys boys clambering for the microphone, ala Pezzatti or Mackaye. Makes you wonder why the Huskers couldn't bear those who jumped up on their stage to "steal" the drum mikes and sing along -- pure bitchiness?
But what I'm asking isn't where's Minneapolis' Minor Threat or even where's Minneapolis' Butthole Surfers; more to the point, where are the lower-case butt hole surfers, the p-rock fags?
It seems like the past three years have been spent in search of gay punks. Yes, plenty of people who define themselves as gay, plenty who define themselves as punks. But gay punks, no dice. As I predicted, I'm now a yuppie, in appearance and state of employment, at least. I have no desire to meet gay yuppies -- who does? I don't much care about meeting punks anymore. If I did, they likely wouldn't think I'm a punk. They'd listen to the Dead Kennedys and think themselves tres cool. I listen to the Swans and think I'm pretty cool. So what? Who cares? Why are we always in quest of cool? Why listen to such obscure music?
For me, the things missing from mainstream rock are emotion and intelligence. Classical/ serious music is bristling with intelligence, but it's dull, serious intelligence. Don't get me wrong -- being serious is fine. The only good funny music is funny music that's also serious. Sometimes punk rock musicians are brainy, but they try to project some sort of semi-illiterate emotion through the music. So technically, the music isn't what's intelligent, it's the performer. Never heard of a moron making brilliant music, but I suppose it might "rock".
What is this phrase "to rock"? I don't know if it could be quantified -- you can't just throw together funky rhythm, throbbing bass, incoherent vocals and radioactive guitar and expect the final product to "rock."
Maybe I've missed the boat as far as punk goes, but for me punk means punk rock. Wouldn't you rather know someone who looks like Dan Quayle and listens to Sonic Youth than someone with a mohawk who listens to Bon Jovi?
is it that 'zine editors are allowed to press their opinions on everyone? Is it really fair? Who gave us the liscence? I feel like a dork telling you what to think, but remember, it's for your own good. I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it.
Eight-sixed by David B. Feinberg. If you can afford it, get this book. Gallows humor. AIDS and the 80's. Just plain essential
Closer by Dennis Cooper. Just bought this. An excerpt was
published a year past in the Penguin
Banned in D.C. (Sundog Propaganda). Made me think of my salad days. Photo document of DC 79-85. See what you missed.
Fugazi (Dischord): No, I don't listen to hardcore. But this is the best post-h.c. D.C. since Happy Go Licky, in which Rites of Spring's personel took on industrial and won.
Halo of Flies: Any/All Recordings (Amphetamine Reptile/ Twintone): Just don't tell them they're politically correct.
Sister Double Happiness: Token fag band. Didn't think I'd ever own a blues record such as this, but Gary Floyd sings it like he means it so much that I'm convinced. Check out interview in Boysville USA #4.
Writers: Kathy Acker; Robert Gluck; John Shirley
Art: Joel-Peter Witkin; Duane Michaels.
Music: Professor Longhair; Wolfgang Press; Any Touch & Go anything.
If you don't know, you're missing out.
JDs, Homocore, Boysville USA, Between C & D, Holy Titclamps.