siouxsie. the whole magilla.
slobber, slobber, pant... drool. you are about to read a motion picture filmed in hell. the inside of her mind. giant jet phantoms screaming round. Assholes 9 to 5. they're like hot and cold running water around here. and vroom, goes the icebucket down over the head of sid vicious. their stupid partying is legendary, rawr! drunk and food all over with jones hwarfing in a corner while you pig out on roastbeef sandwiches with some other drunk pisshead. all wonder and glee in the morning. you wake up first, climb the crispy cold stairs, and piss into a flowerpot. you're drunk and there's no denying it. stoned off your bacon, and with half a check still in your pocket. the seriously sweet days of tomorrow echo cheaply in your stoned throneroom. and you bask in the glee of all you've ever seen as you step off the curb onto wallaby street, blitzed off your gunkard, wishing you'd taken a shit, but not wantin' to hear the cracks of the guy in the bathtub about the size of your ass. you can't imagine the wonder and sacramental evil that tittilates through your veins today. you long to eat a pizza, with love, alone, before they find out you have pizza money and a pocket of change. hopefully you can scarf and play ms. pac man. thems were the days, but today? we have a different standard.
i put siouxsie to the acid test.
Book 1 - The Scream.
Smoke the Purple Urkel and put this here one on.
steamboat. outside the window. really. buncha drunk girls on it. some of them naked. woohoo! lesbian week in south iguana. but far off. in london. is siouxsie wicked mad with glee cuz she just found a tooth extraction mechanical bank where the extractEE looks just like boy. hee hee hee.
her monster mind is uncanny. depth of smiling snarl. never can tell for sure when she's drunk. good book open. something 19th century open over there. makin' guacomole. but mainly. this here song. pure. a leaden fade in to a series of songs that are so completely full of the wisdom of the streets and crawlways and alleyways of the mind's eye. that first song there? is guaranteed mom crawlin' up the wall stuff. the rest? free of the need to do anything but rock. like a pureifying metal feed to gold. it has oppressed media outlook. from having to completely not have any whirlwind moments as you get pisseder and pisseder faced. woot! take the bike around the yard.
i never can remember which artist i'm in awe of next. louis often comes to mind. as do some of the first jazz greats. up to parker. trane and davis and rollins n' shit have so much, but trane don't swing. and rollins is pissed. he's puttin' together range... but not like that solid love of the aspect of jazz that just beams outta django. you can imagine django blowing his wine fund on some hot seven session. the giddyness and glee of swing. that stuff sinatra used to sing. when he was pissed.
you can't remember. can you. the last time you were this pissed. reading some crap. goin' ooh tarkins, maybe he'll do siouxsie again. whatta hoot. blithers! Blistering giggles. Oh! You Media Weasel. etc. cept i got principles. i ain't just some salon.com whore you can trot out to fill your mind with crapspew. i have a mind to half fill yah with bullshit and then leave you swimming in it. oooh! i got the feelin' and the feelin' ain't bad. giant tardomatic mall people.
it flies in. hits a bank. and the smoke from it gets these tarsiers stoned and they start buildin' cities. woo! that ergot beastie made for a wicked boogie oogie oogie through towns and large cities. whutta yuck. at least folks aren't poopin' out windows and crapping in corridors much anymore. jeez. you folks don't know the signs of our winging mild upon a planet filled with right wingers. me? bush spirit will live on. ad hominems just don't do it. i hope clinton is in the dunk tank now. for that is what it has become, a place to put our goony birds and pelt the target until they become soaked with poison we spew. politicians are like soap, they wash away. there are a few that are like ass though.
a sterilized death machine.
Book 2 - Join Hands
The Karhmann Ghia
karaang. start this mudder up in your headphones and your head will get whanged. bells. sweet. you cruisin' down the street, infinitely paranoid, figuring its some crazy rebellious shithead whose been torturing some people from the nation of the asshole. that guy who went in with a plague censer after 40 months of adaptation. pissheads. they are an idiot subculture of a great nation who all members know and abhor them. generally they get fucked up all the time. sheepfuckers.
who? what? siouxsie? never! her heart sells love to the victims of many. i've seen too many missiles that splash into kids to stand it however. so. this here album is best mildly sedated with your sedative mildest. mmm. yeh.
part of 4 of the most essential albums of more than 1/12th of the world's music. the others fucking smoke too. buy lots. this is a hypnogogic suggestion. lots and lots and lots and lots and lots. yeh. you'll be non-plussed if yah get it on its own. as powerful a companion to the scream (in cast and presence) as it is, it feels like elements of a repetoire being developed. the album is sweet sweet aftermath of 'the scream' where angels wrack a studio.
#3 is next.
Book 3 - Kaleidoscope
whooo. miss annie fannie. you got the tingerhodes. whut the time of night to be playin' this album.
siouxsie is defined. this here beastie rocks the house.
sweet deep culture. mexico city on a saturday afternoon. opera this afternoon.
gunna get mo' money! gunna get mo' money!
Book 4 - Juju
maximum megatokeage. this here album is the reeking heaven of goth in dance. sinuous rhythms evil mind head cut etc. cut
hoobetcha if you like rock n' roll you should grab this baby. best darn album of the 80s. she's out of her mind and on a rolling holler that could shake cities. packed arenas.
woohoohooo! you'll never rock as hard as you will to this album. makes zepp look like josie and the pussycats. edge. right on it. incredible beats. mad love.
Book 5 - A Kiss in the Dreamhouse
Coming in with the golden light in the morning
Bang! goes another kanga
in the morning.
Dangle devils in a bottle
Many an aborigines mistaken for a tree
so you see. she's laying there. half drunk. kate bush singing her sweet love song. and she knows that he's there. she has no problem seducing him. its almost too easy. and there ain't no worries coming from her heart. ain't nothing to sweat right now. ain't no pain she can't muster. cept for those fuckers peeking in the windows. bastards.
Book 6 - Nocturne
cold metal woman
Book 7 - Hyaena
OOOH! WE GOT ALL SORTS OF PRODUCTION MONEES FRUM TEH VIDEO LOL! DON'T PASS OUT BOB!
This here must be how it felt to be Pink Floyd! WITHOUT ANY GODDAMN STUDIO TIME EXCEPT FOR THE OVERTIME THAT THE TWIDDLEMONKEES PUT IN!
Imagine a painter's canvas. Now imagine how many times that canvas got painted over. This is about the seven hundredth time. Maybe the 50th time was enough, except for one thing, all the tatters are AWESOME!
Book 8 - The Thorn EP
I'm transcribing from psychic projections from God.
Book 9 - Tinderbox
Thank god for the video revolution. In the HQ there is a giant video screen that we never watch except when our fingers are sore.
Stop looking in our goddamn windows or we'll move to France.
Jingo Jango Jingo.
Can't leave home without it. Nothing sticks in the craw of a restauranteur who used to deny us service than a hearty mustard fight.
Book 10 - Through the Looking Glass
Just another bastard waiting for Monroe
Yer loossssssst littttleeee girrrrrrrrllll!
No geeniuz producer would touch this album! so we got a bigger cut.
For the living
trust in me.
Book 11 - Peepshow
ok. so now i'm a fan band. grateful dead circuit here i come!
songs written in a cool room without the band.
can't believe how many i threw out. no, not band members. songs on this album.
Book 12 - Superstition
The Evil Angel
time for a kinder, gentler siouxsie. what? want me to bite yer freakin' head off?lissen to juju again!
Never can tell the wind.
or can you!
is the softest wind of all.
Kill and tell.
immature. so. i'm rich, yer not, neener neener!
Book 13 - The Rapture
A little bit lonely
and john cale
And I need you now tonight
tearing apart, tearing apart!
Once upon a time I was falling in love
now i'm only drunk like a tart!
Book 14 - Downside Up
The pile of beer
BACKWARDS THIS READ.
The vast cougar
instance of dream decay
was on a saturday last
Book 15 - The Seven Year Itch
a fat wind of desire
FOR THE FIRST TIME I FELT THE HEAT LIKE I KNEW IT WAS. 100 DEGREES IF IT WAS MORE. I'D MELT.
cackle! REVNEGHE SQUAT!!!!!!!
KILL THE WABBITS
I just couldn't find an armband with israel's symbol on it.