I’M INTERESTED IN APATHY by TISM. Story by David Oke.
My muso son Dan texted me. He said that a friend of a friend of a friend is a daughter of a TISM band member.
My muso son Dan texted me. He said that a friend of a friend of a friend is a daughter of a TISM band member.
Punkās rising tide lifted a lot of boats, not all of them worthy but once all the Pistols marketing hoo-ha had drained back out we were, as I now heard, left with some gems. XTC, The Jam, Elvis Costello and The Clash were all great but no one, as I discovered, was quite like Ian Drury.
Itās a rhythm one could argue is difficult to not slow dance to and, in the sun and in love, I lifted her hand into mine and we danced together.
My brother Paul was into the Minneapolis/St. Paul punk scene at the time, complete with ripped jeans, jack boots and spiked hair. He loaned me his album Rocket To Russia.
It was only as the band members sloped off that they looked a little senior for all this excitement, ready for bed and a Horlicks. The mood in the audience was not just ecstatic but validated.
Unheard music is sweeter. A tongue-in-cheek look at the language of music reviews.
At the time of writing this I am currently on day 132 of self-isolation, with no end in sight. It is the first day of the mandatory mask wearing in Melbourne, Victoria.
Their own webpage describes them as a cross between Diamanda GalĆ”s and The Birthday Party. I tell a friend they are like Bikini Kill mixed with Joy Division. Weāre both correct.
We wouldnāt have called it shoplifting, but we also knew we had to be surreptitious when we set about manually adjusting Colesā profit margin.
When I was with you I felt like Paul Westerberg /Yearning, hopeful, bruised but romantic