Been really down lately,
maybe for good reason,
gotta say that some days,
it seems like its just not worth it,
why do i bother trying for folks,
who lie to me and despise me,
for whatever reason,
and the reasons are many.
I'm not particularly good,
not evil either, maybe in-between,
leaving me as insubstantial either way,
so why should anyone really care,
what happens to me?
But i can't think of me,
i have a family,
two sons and a daughter,
who rely upon me,
to do what i ought to,
but sometimes getting up is a struggle.
I'm not suicidal,
don't be misled by what I've said,
but sometimes,
i just wonder,
what the fuss is all about.
This life that we all live,
what is it that we must give,
to satiate ourselves,
and any others,
that we hold dear.
And the lies they tell,
about romance and love,
given to us from above,
damn them all to hell,
these notions we must dispel.
I love, but at my own detriment,
loving and having destroy,
can't say that I don't like it,
but there again is the paradox,
love and life we cannot live without,
but whens all said and done,
i am alone, shrouded in doubt.
3.30.2007
the baht bus to Udon Thani
one of my earliest memories was of riding to town,
on the baht bus, a converted truck,
that picked all us poor suckers up,
from our meager village on the fringe,
and took us to Udon Thani,
the regional hub, notable only because,
of the road that was built by the U.S. Army,
and airbase used by the U.S. Air Force.
Bombing runs over Hanoi every day,
the first true taste of modern life for us,
paved roads and electricity,
radios and telephones and running water,
ice boxes and televisions,
in a place that still used water buffoloes,
to plow their rice fields.
I'm a product of that place,
son of an ex-Marine, working for the C.I.A.,
going over to Laos and doing what they say,
bugging every square foot of the U.S. embassy,
trying to trap someone for something I guess,
but met a lady there who would become my mother.
that sunny hot day, with my grandmother at my side,
the baht bus was stopped, by some lumberjacks,
their buddy was stuck under a tree,
after many tense minutes finally freed,
then put into the bus at our feet,
only a few metres away, gasping for air,
bleeding out of every pore it seemed,
but he lay there at our feet,
for the torturous trek to the city,
simple villagers were we,
watching him die at our feet,
I couldn't have been more than four,
but I remember still the sound of death,
gasping and choking with tortured breaths,
body broken and bloodied beyond belief,
when he finally stopped breathing, it was relief.
for him and for us, all of us on the baht bus,
on our way into town, on a merry jaunt,
nothing more, just villagers going shopping,
but I remember the sandals on his feet,
because they left them next to the street,
in a kind of shrine, to remind us that,
we never know when it is our time,
and not living your life is the only true crime.
so seize the day, carpe diem,
for tomorrow my friends,
we know not if we will have the time,
to do what we want before it ends.
on the baht bus, a converted truck,
that picked all us poor suckers up,
from our meager village on the fringe,
and took us to Udon Thani,
the regional hub, notable only because,
of the road that was built by the U.S. Army,
and airbase used by the U.S. Air Force.
Bombing runs over Hanoi every day,
the first true taste of modern life for us,
paved roads and electricity,
radios and telephones and running water,
ice boxes and televisions,
in a place that still used water buffoloes,
to plow their rice fields.
I'm a product of that place,
son of an ex-Marine, working for the C.I.A.,
going over to Laos and doing what they say,
bugging every square foot of the U.S. embassy,
trying to trap someone for something I guess,
but met a lady there who would become my mother.
that sunny hot day, with my grandmother at my side,
the baht bus was stopped, by some lumberjacks,
their buddy was stuck under a tree,
after many tense minutes finally freed,
then put into the bus at our feet,
only a few metres away, gasping for air,
bleeding out of every pore it seemed,
but he lay there at our feet,
for the torturous trek to the city,
simple villagers were we,
watching him die at our feet,
I couldn't have been more than four,
but I remember still the sound of death,
gasping and choking with tortured breaths,
body broken and bloodied beyond belief,
when he finally stopped breathing, it was relief.
for him and for us, all of us on the baht bus,
on our way into town, on a merry jaunt,
nothing more, just villagers going shopping,
but I remember the sandals on his feet,
because they left them next to the street,
in a kind of shrine, to remind us that,
we never know when it is our time,
and not living your life is the only true crime.
so seize the day, carpe diem,
for tomorrow my friends,
we know not if we will have the time,
to do what we want before it ends.
3.22.2007
smells linger
Born at the wrong time, maybe wrong place as well,
Sights and sounds of today seem so foreign,
Remember seeing everything with fresh wondering eyes,
But those have become everyday, the smells linger,
Still strong, still elicit an uncertain response.
Smells at once medicinal, jarringly sweet at others,
Flowery old lady smells, fill the offices, the schools,
Teachers and secretaries, receptionists and lavatories,
Soaps and perfumes, cleaners and fragrances,
Assaulting your nose as you enter their domain.
This strange new world that I stumbled into,
With their own language and customs,
Nothing like where I was born and raised,
Half a world away, amongst the rice fields,
Hot tropical sun burning the sky,
Dirt or muddied roads leading to town,
Kids playing in buffalo dung,
The only smells were of livestock,
Grandma’s cooking and the natural world.
Sometimes my food assaults, heavy with garlic,
Drenched in fish sauce and peppers,
An indistinct Asian-y smell that also repels,
but not as much as their cheeses or sauces,
their cured meats and casserole dishes.
Perhaps its just what you know,
What you’re raised around and with,
That determines your likes and dislikes,
But so much today I am surrounded by their smells,
Some of which I’ve come to accept,
But others remind me that we’re not the same,
Remind me that I am only visiting, for a time,
But I cannot return to my home, its not there,
Swept up by time and forced ahead,
Some better, some worse, just different.
I cling to one or the other, neither will have me,
A product of both, I came as a harbinger,
Hated for a time at home, they knew I was the future,
I was the physical proof that things would change,
Their way of life forever gone, right before their eyes.
And here, still so compartmentalized, a place for everything,
So where did I belong, I belonged to none of them,
A whole new something that happened along,
On the tail end and on the cusp, another new dawn,
Everything forever changing, nothing ever stays the same.
The smells assault me still, take me back to yesterday,
An express route to my memories, of times past,
Scared little boy sitting in the school office,
Trying to make sense of the new world around him,
Chanel No. 5 or the smell of bleach,
Take me back to those uncertain yesterdays.
Sights and sounds of today seem so foreign,
Remember seeing everything with fresh wondering eyes,
But those have become everyday, the smells linger,
Still strong, still elicit an uncertain response.
Smells at once medicinal, jarringly sweet at others,
Flowery old lady smells, fill the offices, the schools,
Teachers and secretaries, receptionists and lavatories,
Soaps and perfumes, cleaners and fragrances,
Assaulting your nose as you enter their domain.
This strange new world that I stumbled into,
With their own language and customs,
Nothing like where I was born and raised,
Half a world away, amongst the rice fields,
Hot tropical sun burning the sky,
Dirt or muddied roads leading to town,
Kids playing in buffalo dung,
The only smells were of livestock,
Grandma’s cooking and the natural world.
Sometimes my food assaults, heavy with garlic,
Drenched in fish sauce and peppers,
An indistinct Asian-y smell that also repels,
but not as much as their cheeses or sauces,
their cured meats and casserole dishes.
Perhaps its just what you know,
What you’re raised around and with,
That determines your likes and dislikes,
But so much today I am surrounded by their smells,
Some of which I’ve come to accept,
But others remind me that we’re not the same,
Remind me that I am only visiting, for a time,
But I cannot return to my home, its not there,
Swept up by time and forced ahead,
Some better, some worse, just different.
I cling to one or the other, neither will have me,
A product of both, I came as a harbinger,
Hated for a time at home, they knew I was the future,
I was the physical proof that things would change,
Their way of life forever gone, right before their eyes.
And here, still so compartmentalized, a place for everything,
So where did I belong, I belonged to none of them,
A whole new something that happened along,
On the tail end and on the cusp, another new dawn,
Everything forever changing, nothing ever stays the same.
The smells assault me still, take me back to yesterday,
An express route to my memories, of times past,
Scared little boy sitting in the school office,
Trying to make sense of the new world around him,
Chanel No. 5 or the smell of bleach,
Take me back to those uncertain yesterdays.
3.21.2007
lorraine avenue
We traveled over oceans and eons in our minds,
The physical reality was much tamer,
State boundaries, city limits, in a handful of years,
At the edge of childhood, pre-adulthood,
Loomed on the horizon and collapsed on us both.
I destroyed your innocence, begrudged you your place,
Because your childhood wasn’t full of hate,
No anxiety, no drunken excesses could I see.
From my perspective at least, but what is true,
Is known only to you, but I wanted what was yours,
Not for you, but for me to have and to hoard.
I lied to you and lied to myself, endless times,
The impact on you was negative, destroyed all trust,
But what you gave me you’ll never know,
Showed me how to be, with my own family,
A childhood surrounded by music and books.
A love of learning and cultures, yours and others,
My debt to you is enormous and will never be paid,
I tried to forget you for years, but you are stuck inside,
You told me that it was not love I felt, but I denied,
Kept playing the game, kept fooling myself.
Every mournful note I hear, every beautiful sight,
Always reminds me of you, none of it is yours,
You are blameless in this, but I never overcame,
All the shallow pettiness that was only mine,
Ever caring about other’s opinions and thoughts.
But you were not the impetuous one at age sixteen,
Beguiling and negating me at every step,
Not the one that made me throw reason aside,
You were given all their attributes and much more.
All these burdens I have placed upon you,
All the paths not traveled, the loves not spoken,
The soaring and falling, from hopelessly high heights,
But the you that is real, I will never truly know,
Leaving me holding nothing and knowing less,
Whatever and so on, forever and never, amen.
The physical reality was much tamer,
State boundaries, city limits, in a handful of years,
At the edge of childhood, pre-adulthood,
Loomed on the horizon and collapsed on us both.
I destroyed your innocence, begrudged you your place,
Because your childhood wasn’t full of hate,
No anxiety, no drunken excesses could I see.
From my perspective at least, but what is true,
Is known only to you, but I wanted what was yours,
Not for you, but for me to have and to hoard.
I lied to you and lied to myself, endless times,
The impact on you was negative, destroyed all trust,
But what you gave me you’ll never know,
Showed me how to be, with my own family,
A childhood surrounded by music and books.
A love of learning and cultures, yours and others,
My debt to you is enormous and will never be paid,
I tried to forget you for years, but you are stuck inside,
You told me that it was not love I felt, but I denied,
Kept playing the game, kept fooling myself.
Every mournful note I hear, every beautiful sight,
Always reminds me of you, none of it is yours,
You are blameless in this, but I never overcame,
All the shallow pettiness that was only mine,
Ever caring about other’s opinions and thoughts.
But you were not the impetuous one at age sixteen,
Beguiling and negating me at every step,
Not the one that made me throw reason aside,
You were given all their attributes and much more.
All these burdens I have placed upon you,
All the paths not traveled, the loves not spoken,
The soaring and falling, from hopelessly high heights,
But the you that is real, I will never truly know,
Leaving me holding nothing and knowing less,
Whatever and so on, forever and never, amen.
3.20.2007
silence the within
All the promises I made, from this day back to then,
All the same, same as before, can I say,
What was it to begin with, but I cannot,
Lies along the way, lies I told others,
Lies I tell myself, to sleep better at night.
Under the weight, bearing down,
Breaking bones, breaking spirit,
Wishing and hoping for what,
Wishing for a way, but so glad at times,
That yesterday’s wishes didn’t bear fruit.
So many of them empty, meaningless,
Ego-shrouded wants and wishes,
Self-centered clouds flouting about,
Not about me and my needs,
About the binojiinhs and theirs,
But so hard to see, to accept.
Still wanting the easy route,
Wanting and needing confused,
See my struggle, what will it say,
What will they make of all this,
When my time has come and gone,
Encased in a casket or reduced to ashes.
So I say and I so I shall, but not today,
Today I sit and feel sorry for this self,
Wishing for some kind of something,
From the other side, from somewhere,
Foundering on the shore, unfound.
Always some kind of pressure,
Some kind of drama from without,
To silence the within, attention drawn taut.
Heal the rift betwixt and between,
Searching for that which is real,
The real of the living dead day-to-day,
Torn away by something imagined,
Loving the lie above the truth.
Freedom from self and from doubt,
Marching to the drummers beat,
Finding reflection time, time to sit,
Beneath the Bodhi tree and speechless,
Free of conceptual thought.
What is a commercial the baby asked,
It’s a lie they tell on television,
To fill our lives with emptiness,
But emptiness and the void are all,
We run and we hide, accepting all the lies,
But we and they and everything is all,
Emptiness and void from within and without.
Quiet the mind, quiet the child,
Within and without, nothing more to find,
Enjoy and live, the only things left,
That we or I must do at this moment and place.
All the same, same as before, can I say,
What was it to begin with, but I cannot,
Lies along the way, lies I told others,
Lies I tell myself, to sleep better at night.
Under the weight, bearing down,
Breaking bones, breaking spirit,
Wishing and hoping for what,
Wishing for a way, but so glad at times,
That yesterday’s wishes didn’t bear fruit.
So many of them empty, meaningless,
Ego-shrouded wants and wishes,
Self-centered clouds flouting about,
Not about me and my needs,
About the binojiinhs and theirs,
But so hard to see, to accept.
Still wanting the easy route,
Wanting and needing confused,
See my struggle, what will it say,
What will they make of all this,
When my time has come and gone,
Encased in a casket or reduced to ashes.
So I say and I so I shall, but not today,
Today I sit and feel sorry for this self,
Wishing for some kind of something,
From the other side, from somewhere,
Foundering on the shore, unfound.
Always some kind of pressure,
Some kind of drama from without,
To silence the within, attention drawn taut.
Heal the rift betwixt and between,
Searching for that which is real,
The real of the living dead day-to-day,
Torn away by something imagined,
Loving the lie above the truth.
Freedom from self and from doubt,
Marching to the drummers beat,
Finding reflection time, time to sit,
Beneath the Bodhi tree and speechless,
Free of conceptual thought.
What is a commercial the baby asked,
It’s a lie they tell on television,
To fill our lives with emptiness,
But emptiness and the void are all,
We run and we hide, accepting all the lies,
But we and they and everything is all,
Emptiness and void from within and without.
Quiet the mind, quiet the child,
Within and without, nothing more to find,
Enjoy and live, the only things left,
That we or I must do at this moment and place.
my birthday
Thai New Year Celebration
(SONGKRAN)
April 15th, Sunday, 2007
This occasion for the celebration of the Thai New Year is to continue a beautiful tradition. Our Thai ancestors have left us this celebration as part of our inheritance.
The Thai New Year is closely connected with the Buddhist teaching which is an integral part of Buddhist life. It is not just a Thai event. This is because the Teaching makes up the roots of Buddhist culture. It is a day on which Buddhists honor their ancestors and their contributions and show respect to them by making merit in the way of good acts in their memory. We would therefore like to invite everyone to join us in this celebration in paying respects to all our ancestors and their contribution to our present day lives.
Program:
10:00 AM Receiving the five precepts and listening to chanting.
10:30 AM The monks will go on alms-round
11:00 AM Food offerings to the monks
12:00 PM Everyone enjoys a lunch (please bring a dish to pass)
12:30 PM The donation tree and goods will be offered to the temple.
1:00 PM Dhamma talks in both Thai and English
1:30 PM The ceremonial pouring of water on the Buddha image, monks and community members.
1:45 PM Thai classical and folk dancing
And afterward:
MASON! (Malcolm X went to high school there)
old man poetry
Dawn Patrol
by MadSpaniard (San Francisco)
Standing on the edge as the first light of day peaks over the horizon,
The sky lights up in various shades of violet and yellow.
The wind is cold and brisk as I pump around the deep end.
Ears frozen and hands numb the runs continue as each trick flows nicely together until SLAM!!!
There's the ground.
Damn cement hurts and 6:15am.
I pick myself up and try it again.
After a few more runs thru the bowl it's time to go to work.
Damn I'm glad I stopped by the park on the way to work this morning.
Life is good.
The Punk Show
by OldBoardBum (Virginia)
Shoulder to shoulder we stand,
feeling the power of the band.
Guitars on fire and drums beating fast.
The band's playing hard, how long will they last?
Screaming the words from the top of their lungs,
the crowd knows the words to every song sung.
A push from the back and into the pit.
Fists flying, bodys moving as if in a fit!
Combat boots, chains, Chucks, and wild hair;
tatoos and piercings, they don't have a care.
The room is smokey and there's beer on the floor.
Kids sneak outside so they can drink one more.
Been down for 20 years, probably go for 20 more.
Stamp my hand, check my I.D., 5 bucks at the door.
I remember tomorrow
by Jonno (Indonesia by way of Thailand/U.K.)
I remember tomorrow
Anticipation, knee shake, heart rate
Still now as then, pumping, fast
Woke early, Santa's horde torn bare
Red wheels, 'glass deck - Red Stone
Life lived now, started there
Dropped it down, icy morn, first foot on and
Push- glide, push - glide
Dawn breaks, heart breaks, surf brakes, no brakes and
Push - glide, push - glide
Friends pass, times pass, tresspass and
Push - glide, push - glide
Older now, wiser, stronger, hardened scarred and still I long for
Push - glide, push - glide
New place, old place, right now - my space and
Push - glide, push - glide
I remember tomorrow, dropped it down, first foot on and
push - glide, push - slide
push - carve, turn, fly
Can't die.
by MadSpaniard (San Francisco)
Standing on the edge as the first light of day peaks over the horizon,
The sky lights up in various shades of violet and yellow.
The wind is cold and brisk as I pump around the deep end.
Ears frozen and hands numb the runs continue as each trick flows nicely together until SLAM!!!
There's the ground.
Damn cement hurts and 6:15am.
I pick myself up and try it again.
After a few more runs thru the bowl it's time to go to work.
Damn I'm glad I stopped by the park on the way to work this morning.
Life is good.
The Punk Show
by OldBoardBum (Virginia)
Shoulder to shoulder we stand,
feeling the power of the band.
Guitars on fire and drums beating fast.
The band's playing hard, how long will they last?
Screaming the words from the top of their lungs,
the crowd knows the words to every song sung.
A push from the back and into the pit.
Fists flying, bodys moving as if in a fit!
Combat boots, chains, Chucks, and wild hair;
tatoos and piercings, they don't have a care.
The room is smokey and there's beer on the floor.
Kids sneak outside so they can drink one more.
Been down for 20 years, probably go for 20 more.
Stamp my hand, check my I.D., 5 bucks at the door.
I remember tomorrow
by Jonno (Indonesia by way of Thailand/U.K.)
I remember tomorrow
Anticipation, knee shake, heart rate
Still now as then, pumping, fast
Woke early, Santa's horde torn bare
Red wheels, 'glass deck - Red Stone
Life lived now, started there
Dropped it down, icy morn, first foot on and
Push- glide, push - glide
Dawn breaks, heart breaks, surf brakes, no brakes and
Push - glide, push - glide
Friends pass, times pass, tresspass and
Push - glide, push - glide
Older now, wiser, stronger, hardened scarred and still I long for
Push - glide, push - glide
New place, old place, right now - my space and
Push - glide, push - glide
I remember tomorrow, dropped it down, first foot on and
push - glide, push - slide
push - carve, turn, fly
Can't die.
lexicon devil
My wife bought me a copy of the Bushlexicon and I have enoyed skimreading it at my leisure. President Bush and I may disagree on some things, but in terms of language, I admire him very muchly. He’s a visionarist in terms of his approach to language and historianists will come to see this forthhindsightly. English is a living, non-staticcy language which continuoslynessly appropriates and regurgitates its way through the virgin forests of our minds.
What one day is nonsensilar can and will be assimilationated into the patois of the everyday. As an obnoxious childman growing about in Detroit, I never imaginated that I would be using wordphrases like “fakie”, “ollie”, “tranny”, “coping” and ‘kickflip”. I never actually do any of these things, but I throw them about lavishly in my word salads which I serve up to the OMA-brethren. Try spell-checking some of our posts sometimes-what is seened is a seahorizon of redishness.
Use it, fellow OMAsters, or alas, it will be lost in the misty winds of temporal fluxness which this spatial plane has adhered us to. The language is ours to bend, fold and manipulate any which way but loose that we choose. Language has growerings—some flower and some get triminated. This is the way of culture, of life. To laugh at President Bush is to laugh at life. So laugh and promolgatiate the lexicon, for that is what we do bestest.
did I mention English is not my foremostest language?
instasisly it is my only current language, but i didn't sprekenzi until i was fivish . . . in case you wuz wonderingly perplondered. . .
but I diverge like two paths into the wooded messiness that is my mind . . .
What one day is nonsensilar can and will be assimilationated into the patois of the everyday. As an obnoxious childman growing about in Detroit, I never imaginated that I would be using wordphrases like “fakie”, “ollie”, “tranny”, “coping” and ‘kickflip”. I never actually do any of these things, but I throw them about lavishly in my word salads which I serve up to the OMA-brethren. Try spell-checking some of our posts sometimes-what is seened is a seahorizon of redishness.
Use it, fellow OMAsters, or alas, it will be lost in the misty winds of temporal fluxness which this spatial plane has adhered us to. The language is ours to bend, fold and manipulate any which way but loose that we choose. Language has growerings—some flower and some get triminated. This is the way of culture, of life. To laugh at President Bush is to laugh at life. So laugh and promolgatiate the lexicon, for that is what we do bestest.
did I mention English is not my foremostest language?
instasisly it is my only current language, but i didn't sprekenzi until i was fivish . . . in case you wuz wonderingly perplondered. . .
but I diverge like two paths into the wooded messiness that is my mind . . .
3.19.2007
compilations!
You like compilations? I love compilations--I found some interesting ones the other day--I had a cassette of the first one, put out by ROIR from back in the day--early 80's I think . . . but the crazy thing is--I found all of these on Target.com!!!
I borrowed a Flipside compilation from M. Webb back in 84 or 85--he used to spend summers in So. Cal. with his dad--I ended up buying several more and then branched out to other comps., including a couple of ones from SST Records. They were more or less my my introduction to Hardcore Punk and alternative music in general.
World Class Punk $13.99
The underground cult classic 1984 ROIR cassette on CD! 27 bands! 25 countries! Produced by Mykel Board for Seidboard World Enterprises with the help of Flipside, Maximum Rock N' Roll and Truly Needy Magazine.
Old School Punk $11.98
Wasted Youth, Circle Jerks, FEAR, Germs, TSOL, Adolescents, Agent Orange, D.I., Suicidal Tendencies, Flipper, Channel 3, Redd Kross, and X. LA Hardcore at it's finest (almost).
Punk Comp. $15.49
The newly relaunched Zonophone label on EMI is proud to announce its first release -'Happening, Alive & Nasty', a punk compilation which truly reflects the label's ethos of 'Unheard' ('Whips And Furs' - The Vibrators), 'Unearthed' ('Ain't No Legend' - The Maniacs) and all of it 'Rediscovered'. Happening, Alive and Nasty pays thrilling testament to the brief period when the music business had no idea what it was dealing with, when the doors flung open to mavericks, weirdo's and inspired innovators. The real spirit of punk - the full glorious, ear-bashing mess - was much more exciting than anything that would be defined. The album features Generation X's debut 'Your Generation', Buzzcocks and Wire B-Sides, rarities from the Stranglers and the never issued second Vibrators single 'Bad Time'. Also has the Skidz and 999!!!
CBGB $19.98
Two CD compilation featuring 34 tracks by some of the biggest and most influential acts to play the historic NY nightclub during the rise of Punk Rock and New Wave in the mid-to-late '70s.. Includes tracks from The Plasmatics, Bad Brains, The B-52s, Television, Pere Ubu, Patti Smith, MC5, The Ramones, Devo, New York Dolls, Velvet Underground, Iggy & The Stooges, The Dead boys, The Dictators, The Cramps, Tuff Darts and even club owner Hilly Kristal!
Post-Punk Comp. $29.49
By 1977, the punk-rock movement had become a parody of itself. Rip It Up And Start Again, the book and the CD, is a celebration of what happened next: post-punk bands like The Slits, Devo, Scritti Politti, Cabaret Voltaire, The Raincoats, and The Human League, who dedicated themselves to fulfilling punk's unfinished musical revolution. The post-punk groups were fervent modernists - experimenting with electronics and machine rhythm or adapting ideas from dub reggae and disco. A veritable cornucopia of the great and the good from the late 70s/early 80s era, Rip It Up covers the postpunk spectrum from household names to esoteric cult artists. V2 Records. 2006.
Proto and Punk Comp. $61.99
There was a Revolution in the Making Back in 73 and No Way of Stopping It! Babylon’s Burning is the Ultimate Punk Rock Box Set Documenting the Rise of Such a Radical Reaction to Life and What Had Become Boring Musical Disillusionment Among the Youth at the Time. This Four CD Box Set Charts the Musical Entity that was the Roots of Punk Rock to the Explosion that was Punk Rawk. From the Early American Rumbles of the Modern Lovers, New York Dolls, Heartbreakers, Richard Hell to the U.k’s Early Evolution of the Punk Roots Dr. Feelgood and Kilburn and the High Roads to the 76 Onslaught of the Sex Pistols, the Damned, X Ray Spex to Name but a Few. Each CD Charts the Influences and Birth of this Musical Phenomenon with Many Rare and Hard to Find Demo’s Live Recordings and Studio Sessions.
Oi! Comp. $22.99
Digitally remastered digipak reissue of this influential album that spawned a whole musical movement, restored to it’s original track listing complete with the correct Slaughter & The Dogs and Cock Sparrer tracks. Revamped booklet includes the original sleeve notes on this seminal release that includes tracks from The Exploited, 4-Skins, Cockney Rejects, Peter & The Test Tube Babies, Angelic Upstarts and Splodgenessabounds with most cuts exclusive to this compilation. Stunning and worth every OI! 17 tracks
Punk Karaoke $15.99--and one for the kiddies to sing along to, includes "Have you ever fallen in love" and "London Calling". Target also has a RAMONES karaoke cd!
I borrowed a Flipside compilation from M. Webb back in 84 or 85--he used to spend summers in So. Cal. with his dad--I ended up buying several more and then branched out to other comps., including a couple of ones from SST Records. They were more or less my my introduction to Hardcore Punk and alternative music in general.
World Class Punk $13.99
The underground cult classic 1984 ROIR cassette on CD! 27 bands! 25 countries! Produced by Mykel Board for Seidboard World Enterprises with the help of Flipside, Maximum Rock N' Roll and Truly Needy Magazine.
Old School Punk $11.98
Wasted Youth, Circle Jerks, FEAR, Germs, TSOL, Adolescents, Agent Orange, D.I., Suicidal Tendencies, Flipper, Channel 3, Redd Kross, and X. LA Hardcore at it's finest (almost).
Punk Comp. $15.49
The newly relaunched Zonophone label on EMI is proud to announce its first release -'Happening, Alive & Nasty', a punk compilation which truly reflects the label's ethos of 'Unheard' ('Whips And Furs' - The Vibrators), 'Unearthed' ('Ain't No Legend' - The Maniacs) and all of it 'Rediscovered'. Happening, Alive and Nasty pays thrilling testament to the brief period when the music business had no idea what it was dealing with, when the doors flung open to mavericks, weirdo's and inspired innovators. The real spirit of punk - the full glorious, ear-bashing mess - was much more exciting than anything that would be defined. The album features Generation X's debut 'Your Generation', Buzzcocks and Wire B-Sides, rarities from the Stranglers and the never issued second Vibrators single 'Bad Time'. Also has the Skidz and 999!!!
CBGB $19.98
Two CD compilation featuring 34 tracks by some of the biggest and most influential acts to play the historic NY nightclub during the rise of Punk Rock and New Wave in the mid-to-late '70s.. Includes tracks from The Plasmatics, Bad Brains, The B-52s, Television, Pere Ubu, Patti Smith, MC5, The Ramones, Devo, New York Dolls, Velvet Underground, Iggy & The Stooges, The Dead boys, The Dictators, The Cramps, Tuff Darts and even club owner Hilly Kristal!
Post-Punk Comp. $29.49
By 1977, the punk-rock movement had become a parody of itself. Rip It Up And Start Again, the book and the CD, is a celebration of what happened next: post-punk bands like The Slits, Devo, Scritti Politti, Cabaret Voltaire, The Raincoats, and The Human League, who dedicated themselves to fulfilling punk's unfinished musical revolution. The post-punk groups were fervent modernists - experimenting with electronics and machine rhythm or adapting ideas from dub reggae and disco. A veritable cornucopia of the great and the good from the late 70s/early 80s era, Rip It Up covers the postpunk spectrum from household names to esoteric cult artists. V2 Records. 2006.
Proto and Punk Comp. $61.99
There was a Revolution in the Making Back in 73 and No Way of Stopping It! Babylon’s Burning is the Ultimate Punk Rock Box Set Documenting the Rise of Such a Radical Reaction to Life and What Had Become Boring Musical Disillusionment Among the Youth at the Time. This Four CD Box Set Charts the Musical Entity that was the Roots of Punk Rock to the Explosion that was Punk Rawk. From the Early American Rumbles of the Modern Lovers, New York Dolls, Heartbreakers, Richard Hell to the U.k’s Early Evolution of the Punk Roots Dr. Feelgood and Kilburn and the High Roads to the 76 Onslaught of the Sex Pistols, the Damned, X Ray Spex to Name but a Few. Each CD Charts the Influences and Birth of this Musical Phenomenon with Many Rare and Hard to Find Demo’s Live Recordings and Studio Sessions.
Oi! Comp. $22.99
Digitally remastered digipak reissue of this influential album that spawned a whole musical movement, restored to it’s original track listing complete with the correct Slaughter & The Dogs and Cock Sparrer tracks. Revamped booklet includes the original sleeve notes on this seminal release that includes tracks from The Exploited, 4-Skins, Cockney Rejects, Peter & The Test Tube Babies, Angelic Upstarts and Splodgenessabounds with most cuts exclusive to this compilation. Stunning and worth every OI! 17 tracks
Punk Karaoke $15.99--and one for the kiddies to sing along to, includes "Have you ever fallen in love" and "London Calling". Target also has a RAMONES karaoke cd!
3.18.2007
a couple of park pics...
1) the bowl, or pool, at Ranney (my local park)
2) another bowl area at Ranney
2) another bowl area at Ranney
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