Sunday, September 22, 2013


Thank whatever higher power for being kicked in the face at shows or falling on the floor with my face enough times to have a nose that is completely useless except for serving as a target of anti-Semites and making me unable to smell the punk life that should be circling in my room right now. This is written from a worn out bed among possibly stinky sheets. And the ride has not ended. This week I had three bands in my flat on two nights and shit has happened. Now I’m listening to my gifted Wipers lp through my headphone and getting paranoid as the caffeine is sneaking out from me and my good night beer kicks in. Will grill some mushrooms for a cheese sandwich later. Gosh I ordered some ‘shrums. Future tripping. Also jamming Kinks, the early recordings. And Gas Rag as yesterday I was in a wild van that was cruizin around my town looking for the right bar and blasting this particular band’s demo, full with punx singing along and spilling shit on each other. I still think every single day that Gun Outfit’s new album is the best thing ever, their totally dreamy music is for those who will sleep when they are dead and stay awesome while alive and awake. I’m gonna lay down in the grass and let the sky suck me in while I blast this from a broken stereo. It is meant to connect you with things beyond objects and time. Why are things that are damaged able to tell the truth in a better way? I just wanna eat pizza in my bed, beat the shit out from my computer in chess and surround myself with art. Other people’s art. Whatever. I started to appreciate architecture since last Saturday when I had to spend some time in a dystopian-failed-futuristic, now-rotting-in-it’s-own-shit train station in my country and was watching neo nazi skinheads drinking beer in a happy way while I was just wondering about my glory days spent in the Rat / Xerox van while yeah, I was listening to Gun Outfit. I love music, and I can’t believe how good it is. The whole thing. All the bands. The feeling that it’s not certain. It’s not what you see, it’s not what the story should be. It’s only noise that resonates in your head and the rest is up to you. I love The Pin Group with their spooky, gloomy, wonderfully strange sound which might be familiar to you if you have ever had strange thoughts like still finding warmth on a cancelled beach day, or The Packs with their mellow power of bright darkness, Krakdown, Psycich TV single collections with the greatest lover of all time. Genesis P Ordige is a weird human and I hate myself for having stucked to the attitude and rather playing a show with my band than seeing him perform on PTV3’s final tour in my town. I’m so obsessed with that The Fall song Barmy that I wish Mark E Smith would have taken an E when they played the Hacienda. And listening to Siege, DYS and New Order till the sun comes up. Or getting high every night for a week via my pipe and watch early videos of Meat Puppets, Die Kreuzen and Das Damen for endless hours. I should finish my zines. And my short stories. People, do your shit and be better than me. I wanna listen to bands that start with a C. Sometimes I want to do so many things that I end up doing nothing but thinking on how I could watch movies and listen to music at the same time. I love music that sounds like puking at 4 am and I like fanzines that read like they were written in one night and their authors just created another universe on their pages. I have been to so many good shows lately. And I saw My Bloody Valentine and When You Sleep is still better than almost anything else. Like a wake up kiss from a deep sleep. Music for the dreamers. These sounds are like secret visions going on in your head that they surprisingly seem to know about, at the concert they sounded like the 90s, the whole decade, which was, by the way, so weird and emotionally exhausting that at one point I felt like something will just end. I feel this nowadays very often,too. Doomsday or finally heaven? Will find out.
Kriegshog is cool. I love hardcore that is not hardcore. Or not played by either mentally or physically healthy people. I just want that over-the-edge madness to be the hard in the core not just replaced by studio production and tuning down. I love that Japanese bands can’t really speak English still they are obsessed with writing lyrics in English and thus use their lyrics and the language as another instrument. Still there is that amazing frustration coming through their words from the singers’ throats. So Good. Zyanose is super sick.
Bands we booked in the recent past: Divided Minds, Black Gust, Creem, Nuclear Spring, Sickoids, Rank / Xerox, Rat Columns. The Divided Minds, Black Gust show got cancelled if you can call no electricity in a club a cancellation, so we replaced the gig to our rehearsal room. Hordes of drunk punks showed up from nowhere and were dancing wild with their skateboards in the fucking filth. The show was great, noisy and everything. Balkan desperation at its best. Leather jackets, patch distros. Black Gust is all the filth you can summon from your collection of kdb hardcore bands. As if germs were born into Zagreb, fed on glue. Chronic Sick with nice people, who after all still puke into your parents’ bed. Especially live, mostly in a dirty rehearsal room. Divided Minds is also hardcore but more from the Beach Blvrd era: stoned, pure raging, with lightly distorted guitars and controlled rage, very weird and powerful.
The day after this show my band and local noise makers CHAPPA'AI played a flat show in a city central house’s third floor. No neighbors, no cops. Sick shows, weird crowd, no punks but at least a girl came in a black flag shirt. People said that while singing I looked as if I could kill someone. Sorry I just have emotions. I was only paranoid that the floor will collapse and we will fell into another resident’s flat from the ceiling.
Creem and Nuclear spring were amazing. The show was tight, even some Hassid guy came down to be a pogo monster and kick up everybody in pit. But they are amazing as people too. You wouldn’t expect a hardcore band say siiick on your Hegel book and quote randomly Slavoj Zizek but they did and were just really cool people. Sickoids also, what a band, what a humble, quiet, awkward but lovely group of individuals who can do a massive and loud destruction when playing their desperate punk hymns. Awkward raging. At one point they just got so drunk that when we went out for cruzin and boozing with them we even sent a picture of our balls to the compound.
I have three bands now. There‘s lots of work, things are overdue all the time and my ears started to ring. But I have written a song that is just a very dumb psychedelic menace oi-core, so funny I was wearing a second hand fred perry shirt. I practice songs at nights and I only drink coffee on rehearsals.
Now I’m chugging beers but it’s a Sunday. And blasting Bad Brains. I should make a tape. You should make a scene. Or just stay up late enough so that your brain starts to process by itself. I feel like I’m losing my edge. I swear I haven’t listened to Crass in months but day by day I just see less point in all of this. How we go and play along with this punch line-less comedy, measuring ourselves and putting price tags on everything we do. But everybody can do almost anything if they are not totally stupid. There is money that is going in circles and seriously it is just given around and there you go, join your circle or shut up. Bow your head to the bullshit. I think I just wanna be happy and that’s all. Many times I envy people and more times I envy them for things I don’t even want. To be honest what I want is just to feel safe and be able to say no. So first I should feel safe, then I should be asked and then I could say no.
These are all just random thoughts typed out from a damaged brain through several 10 minutes of permanent midnights. Feelings. Nowadays I’m obsessed with record reviews. Ones that tell stories, situations, circumstances. There is music that captures a scene, a landscape, a mood and those couldn’t be sweated down to be described as simple songs played by musicians with instruments. These noises that surround music couldn’t be learnt to be fabricated. It’s on the dirt of the pants the bands are wearing, the glue that they are puking out while singing, the desperation they are carrying around even after leaving their rooms. We can hear and understand these, feel them. Not knowing them fully but just being sure that yeah I got it. Some things are just hard to transcribe. These are when you wanna punch something but don’t know what and why, you just shake your hands in happy delusion. And you wanna do things, wanna escape from something to be in the light, just spin around and cry while you are laughing. While real life shouldn’t mean that much to us. We rather roll around in sauna-like vans and talk about silly youtube videos and unknown records or are trapped in stoned daze in a strange kitchen / backstage discussing telepathy and fate or dumb hardcore singers and shell shock rock bands. Listening to kraut rock and paranoid wave, ndw feel. Soviet sounds. Music that was composed on soulful computers bleeping the binary sadness of modern life. I think Rank / Xerox is the best band ever, they are violent and collapsing while it feels all the time they are keeping the control, and even though they are some of the nicest people I have met there is something very outsider in them especially when they perform. Purely amazing and universal. I will interview them so you could be disciplined too. Do you know that feeling when a band is playing and it just feels like they are not just understanding whatever you are going through but they also made a soundtrack for it? So it feels like you understand them and thus you and the band are just one and then it becomes a huge US. Now I feel lucky, now I feel that life sometimes is amazing. I have read one sentence in their van and I’m gonna leave you with that: Everything in the world is beautiful, but Man only recognizes beauty if he sees it either seldom or from afar. Listen, today we are gods! – Nabokov.

fuck fact-core!