Wednesday, October 27, 2010

MRR COLUMN

By the time this piece of shit comes out it’ll be summer and that means fests. So many fucking fests. Every asshole and their mother has a fucking fest. I’m sure a lot of people have a lot of fun and I’m sure a lot of great bands play, but let’s face the facts, most of us have really short attention spans, drink too much, and could probably care less who’s playing just so long as there’s a nice beat you can dance to. One year I had to have hit most of the fests on the circuit. For sure at least like 6 of em. And yes, most of them suck. So many fucking dogs and spare changers. Ugly people and not in that awesome way. I don’t like the acoustic guitar in general, what exactly makes you think that you playing a Woody Guthrie song earns you a dollar. You should pay me a dollar for not beating the shit out of you.

Pointless Fest:
Let me start by saying that I love both the men who did this fest. I thoroughly the enjoy the Philadelphia metropolitan area. Well, maybe not west Philly. There are a lot of amazing people there, some great food, and some solid vibes. They got ganstas riding ponies through the streets. An amazing Rocky museum that also has some art pieces. Cheese steaks made of actual meat. That being said, what’s the deal with all the train hoppers and oppressive heat? I bout died and I’m from fucking Texas, man. Damn near lost it when Limp Wrist was playing. Room full of about 500 ugly mother fuckers, naked as the day they were born, beating the shit outta each other. The smell, my friends. The smell like what I would imagine cancer to smell like, but worse. There were these huge industrial fans going ape shit. Which should have been amazing, if it weren’t blowing crusty ball smell all over the place. Lance Hahn once said that no one should bring an acoustic guitar on tour because someone might play it. That’s what I thought when me and Barfield got wind of some kinda DIY secret show in the park after hours. Intrigued as we were, seeing as we have our own renegade show space down here in Austin, we decided to peep the scene. To our disbelief there was nothing, but ass flaps, dreadlocks, and some weirdo playing folks songs in a sea of black denim. Everyone was singing along, loving every fucking minute of it. To date, I’ve never been angrier than I was that evening. It was like Bloomington, Indiana, had thrown up on Philly.

The Fest ( Florida )
No Idea records does this cute little fest every year chock full of every goddamn pop punk band on the planet. No shit, every fucking one of em, and I’m ok with that. Do what you do. I ain’t the fucking cops. Most of them are bands I’ve never heard of and the ones I have I wish I hadn’t. One thing I will say is they feed the bands that play, which is a huge thing for me. I don’t drink, and could give two shits if there’s free booze. You give me a couple slices of pizza and a Dr. Pepper a day, you could kick my mother in the face or make me listen to Raydon. Actually, scratch the whole Raydon thing. Not worth it. You also have to go to Florida. There are lots of good times to be had there, I’m sure, but it doesn’t make up for the amount of flip flops or fanny packs you have to endure from the punks and the tourists. Now, if there was a fest in Disney World, maybe in the adult part where you can gamble, I might change my tune, but its not likely. Once when we were there years ago, Hans pulled a knife on some frat boys in the street and our roadie shit his pants. So yeah. No Dice. Have you ever noticed that every time you read one of those News of the Weird or “ wacky news” or whatever it always goes down in like fucking, Panama City? Like some people shoot their kids with pepper spray and it’s no biggie.

Chicago Fest:
Jesus H. Christ, how could I forget Chicago Fest? Where to begin? We drove all night. Got kicked out of a place in Champaign-Urbana, where we were trying to sleep. No, that’s a lie. They got kicked out. I was at a bar down the street hitting on girl I went to high school with, but regardless, it sucked. Dude asked us to come stay at his place and when everyone went to sleep, changed his mind and kicked us out. On the way to the van some crusty shit bag offered to cook for us if we came to his place to crash. “ Hey, I got a few bell peppers and a tortilla and a chair.” 1 chair, mother fucker? The fuck am I gonna fuck with a bell pepper, 1 tortilla , and a fucking chair? Not happening. Ended up staying at a hotel and between Eric Fly’s snoring and “Family Matters “on full blast, I slept like shit. Once we finally got to the fest I saw Jack Control slap some kid ( which was cool) and later saw him with his makeup running down his face like a jilted prom date ( which was cooler) due to extreme heat. BSA killed it and I met a lot of good friends, but I also had to watch The First Step. Over all Chicago is a great city, but cold as fuck. Fly home and met a pimp named Sleepy on the CTA waiting to go to the airport. Kinda tolerable, but still pretty much weak.

Maryland Death Fest;
A, metal sucks. B, Baltimore sucks. C, Im not going to anything called “Death Fest”. That sounds like the worst thing a person could ever do. Fat metal dudes, horrible bands that ALL sound the fucking same minus a few random hardcore bands thrown in the mix to spice up this musical equivalent of a shit omelet . The mere thought of having to sit in a crowded room full of these assholes makes my skin crawl. Nothing more to be said on the subject.

Chaos in Tejas:
See, I’m not playing favorites. Now this may be the fest I prefer, but hey, I gots to keep it real. I like most the bands, hate some of the bands, and am less than thrilled to have to wait longer for tacos so train hoppers can count their change at Tamale House. Last year Amebix played. I actually heard some scum fuck yell out( dog in tow), “ this show should be 5 dollars” and another “ or free for squatters”. Frankly I agree. That would be fine with me. Separate shows for tax payers. I’m cool with that. All I wanna do is sleep for a week after its done. The whole place is fueled by cocaine and bullet belts. Neither of which I partake in and I admit that maybe if I did, it might be more enjoyable. I guess I have just too much self respect and dignity. Psych. Yes, it’s hot as balls here, but hey, we got AC fucking everywhere. Yes, everywhere.

Hell Fest:
This is a fucking fest, man. Twisted Sister, KISS, Alice Cooper! Get the fuck right out! I will unfortunately not be attending because of undying hatred of the French, but goddamn. KISS? Who the fuck needs BASTARD when you got KISS? Hell, even BASTARD would rather watch KISS than play. The Deftones are playing too and frankly, I respect the hell out of that decision. Not a fan, but fuck it man, do what you want. Think outside the box.

Lollapalooza:
Saw Cypress Hill. Got my nipples pierced. Made out with a dude while on ecstasy. Not bad, however the bottled water is too expensive and Sonic Youth played for too long. At least I think it was Sonic Youth. I can remember being a total fucking loser will do that to ya.


Send bullshit to Ldworrell@gmail.com

MRR COLUMN

I was gonna write this about Bruce, but Im not ready for that yet. Instead I’m gonna write about something he’d want me to write about Rock n Roll. He always fucked with me about writing for a punk magazine and not having it all be about fucking punk. So here it goes. Also, I’m gonna write it in the style of Bruce.

HOLY FUCK SHIT!!!!! Chicago hardcore coming at you blind folded with a pillow case full of FUCKING BRICKS!!! CANADIAN RIFLE killing it with their rag tag brand of melodic punk. Some would call it pop punk, but that shit sucks, SO FUCK THAT! Jordan from RESIDUE RECORDS has been putting out some serious shit as of late NO SLOGAN, DAYLIGHT ROBBERY, DEFECT DEFECT, and of course the power house know as SACRED SHOCK!!! JUMPING JESUS ON A POGO STICK!!!! Chicago is back in the game for all you punk rockers out there. I just got a hold of the MANIPULATION single and its quite a ripper. FASHIONABLE IDIOTS put this hot slab of wax out. CHECK IT OUT!!!!

Ok ok, That’s weak and I know it. Weaker then usual. Even for me. No one can even come close to the genius of Roehrs. What I’m gonna write about this month is gay sex. Yes boys and girls. Hot, buff, gay sex. My gracious host in Milwaukee is a “bear” and a close friend for that matter. I’m sure many of you know what a “bear” is, but just bare with me for a sec, will ya? I bear is a “larger” hairy gay man. A bear is a lover, a fighter , and a friend. A bear will fuck you right and hold you tight. What’s not to love. Lugs, my friend, has really given me an inside look into the sub culture within in a sub culture in the past few weeks. Lugs has been shoving this shit down my throat for years( no pun intended), but until recently I never knew how far this shit reached. I learned some things that I cannot put into words, but goddamnit its my duty as a serious journalist to try. Not because they’re gross or sinfull or whatever, but because I’m jealous as a mother fucker. These dudes go on Cruises, “Bear Runs”, and conventions. Are you kidding me. If you put me in a room full of cute girls with shitty hand tattoos( who actually wanted to fuck me) and crates full of poppers( speculation, no idea if bear conventions have actual crates full of poppers) I’d be all over that shit. I might actually attempt to fuck my brains out. It’s got to be the most amazing place on earth. Like an adult Disney land with none of the “ children” shit. A cruise ship? Are you kidding me. You get me and Greg Daly on a ship full of fine girls headed for Jamaica with an open bar and son, we will sink that fucking ship. Or at the very least come back in hand cuffs For sure create an internationl incident . Lugs, told all about it. Just hot buff dudes with no shirts and very few inhibitions. Just lube and good vibes all around. Cool lube too. The kind that comes in honey bears. That is something anybody can get behind, gay or straight.

On my birthday Lugs took me to Chicago to stay with some of his team mates on his all “bear” softball team. 2 dudes built like linebackers answered the door. I wasn’t sure if they were gonna fuck me or fight me, but judging from the cleanliness of their home I gathered pretty quickly that these men had zero interest in a hobo looking mother fucker like me. There was a massive TV, a Nintendo WII, and a kitchen full of hot delicious food. We just kinda sat around and shot the shit. They schooled me on the game of “bear” and got me hip to the lingo. Now, in straight fucking, we have our own little terms, like first base, second base, etc. However in the “bear” world they have onezies, twozies, and threezies, all the way up to fiveszies. From what I gather, Fivezies of something that I cannot physically perform. Something to do with being able to suck a dick thorough a butthole. I’m not sure, there was so much information to absorb, I got a headache. Twozies is slightly confusing however. It’s a blow job and as best as I can remember from my youth, that would count as somewhere around fourth base. Threezies is anal. Seriously? Whats left man! In my sexual lexicon is don’t get much more then anal. I’ve never even gotten to do that! 4 and 5 gotta be some form of ritual sacrifice. Mother fuckers move fast. I respect that shit out of that. Dave and Owen, our hosts in Chicago, were a absolute delight. Solid dudes and it was breath of fresh air seeing two people really in love with each other. The conversation was sooooo raw. They’d ask me questions about fucking, I’d ask them questions about fucking. They seemed to be really intrigued with“ squirters” (female ejactulation). Unfortunalty I didn’t have nearly enough insider info on the subject, but the didn’t seem to be that upset. Note self: Do “squiter” research for Dave and Owen. I think they thought I was crazy, but I didn’t care. I really loved being around them. I lived at an LGBT compound sorta place in Austin, but it just wasn’t information for me. I need more and these fine gentleman had it all. Just a beacon of knowledge just ready to divulge information to a little straight man such as myself. It’s now known that in the scene I would be known as an “otter”. Which is adorable. Dave really wants me to shave and cut my hair and maybe for my birthday next year I’ll do just that. Anything for my dudes. Also, you feel so tough walking down the street with 6 giant guys. Not allowing myself from starting fights with passers by was a challenge, but I didn’t loose my cool in front of the big dawgs. If I ever get married (which I wont) my groomsmen would be Martin’s old man Sam, My Chicago dudes, Scott Moore, and Lugs, just to blow the minds of my future in laws. Not the mention the bachlor party would be off the chain.

Why can’t I be gay? I’d be so good at it. I’m sexually liberated, the taste of seamen doesn’t bother me, and I look great in flannel. I can taste the glory of it , I just cant cross over. Maybe someday I’ll step up my game. I just wanna fly. Fly like a fucking eagle. A big gay eagle.

Send bullshit to ldworrell@gmail.com

theres always another squat

Sunday, October 10, 2010