A Brief Precis Of What These Albums Are Saying

PJ Harvey, Rid Of Me

Grr, fuck you, you fuckin man!


Pink Floyd, Dark Side Of the Moon

Life's such a nightmare, and then you go mad and die, so you might as well kill yourself. But you won't because you're so very English and reserved.


Pink Floyd, Immersion Box Set

Cynical cash-in? What cynical cash-in? Those Wish You Were Here beermats are essential collector's items.


Alice In Chains, Dirt

It sucks being a junkie, yet it's still somehow glamorous and romantic enough for me to never shut up about it.


Bob Dylan, Blood On The Tracks

Women are evil.


Public Enemy, It Takes A Nation Of Millions To Hold Us Back

The Man is evil.


Slayer, Reign In Blood

We are evil. Also, we hate you.


Madonna, Anything from the past fifteen years

I'm still relevant! I'm still relevant!


Aphex Twin, Richard D. James

All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy
All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy
All work and no play...and so on. With added bleeping.


The Smiths, The Smiths

Ennui can be so very draining, when you're an effete Northern ponce.


Lou Reed, Metal Machine Music

It's not easy being this nihilistic and filled with hate, so here's four sides of feedback so you can feel my pain.

Or:

You're buying this? Really? Ha!

Or:

I am fulfilling contractual obligations.


MC5, Kick Out The Jams

Maybe our strident and bold political stance and rabble-rousing lyrics will make up for our utter lack of both original ideas and basic musical proficiency.


Pearl Jam, Ten

I'm a fucking sensitive genius, alright? Can you understand what the fuck I'm talking about? No? Exactly. I write songs about oceans and everything. I'm like Rimbaud, if Rimbaud were a mediocre rock star who constantly muttered about wndowsills. In the meantime, here's another interminable guitar solo. 


The Beatles, Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band

Acid is fun.


Led Zeppelin, 1

Woman, I'll love you forever. But now I'm gonna leave you. Now I love you forever again. But now I've got to ramble on. Also, look at my cock. Isn't it great?


Radiohead, OK Computer

I'm terrified of, like, everything.

Tramps

Today
I watched three tramps
kick almighty fuck
out of some other tramp,
over something or another.

In the park, this was. In the middle
of the day.
In the sun.

I stood and watched
and knew I should have done something.

And while this guy's face is being turned into hamburger,
I'm just standing there.
Watching.

Maybe it's because it's like
slowing down to look at a car crash,
you see the twisted metal and shattered glass
and think, thank Christ that wasn't me.
But then, this was real, visceral, taking place
not ten feet from me.

Finally they stopped.
They staggered back to their bench,
out of breath,
left their fallen comrade
lying in a bloody wrecked heap
in the glorious sunshine.

And as I turned and walked away,
having done nothing,
having been no-one,
I mused that sobriety has teeth,
and they bite deep to the bone
when the world presents you
with such a tawdry atrocity.

Auspicious Beginnings

Ok, I've started one of these
new-fangled
blog dealies,
I better write me something.

Ok.
Right.
Here we go.

Any minute now.

Ok, how about this:
i saw the greatest minds of my generation
-wait-
shit, that's taken.

I don't even like Ginsberg.

Ok...

Ok, balls to it, I give up.

But I'll be back, you fuckers,
back to construct dazzling towers of words,
staggering and labyrinthine creations,
wheels within sparkling wheels
of adjectives and nouns
that whistle from the sky like bombs
and burst in a shower of images
that rock the very foundations of language as we know it,
a revolution of metaphor and simile
putting unsuspecting syllables to the guillotine,
words like bullets,
words like open wounds,
words like...

like...

shit, I lost it.