Le R*ck est m*rt

Le R*ck est m*rt

^{{pour toujours}}

samedi, février 12, 2005

ec {19:22}
{O b i t u a r y}
"God Save The Sex Pistols is saddened to report that Dave Goodman, producer of early Sex Pistols demo recordings, suffered a heart attack and died at his home in Malta earlier this week.

Dave was responsible for the legendary recordings of July & October 1976, plus January 1977. His recordings resulted in one of the most celebrated bootleg albums of the punk era, Spunk. He also contributed to sessions for The Great Rock 'N' Roll Swindle.

Pictured, the cover of X-Spunk.(Dave on far left).
The album of "raw, unpolished monitor mixes, out-takes and final backing tracks," proposed by Dave Goodman in 2002, remains unreleased.

Dave Goodman - RIP"

Guy Mercier {00:25}
je sens que je vais me faire
une petite semaine
fuck trip-hop
moi

vendredi, février 11, 2005

Sébastien M. {14:29}

Miss Massacre

francoise massacre {12:48}

Bring Your Mother To The Gas Chamber
part one
part two

jeudi, février 10, 2005

Guy Mercier {23:00}

OUI

les valeurs
sures

mercredi, février 09, 2005

ec {23:39}
(Le niveau baisse)

*$ Prof. Mark E. Smith : Research Interests :The application and development of solid state NMR techniques to improve the understanding of disordered inorganic materials, particularly oxides and silicates.
*$ Hourglass1998 ? Positioning Method, Brand & Product Positioning, by Mark E. Smith, Positioning Consultant, Competitive Marketing Strategy & Theory
*$ Mark E Smith is reader's greatest Mancunian

"So it's 1999 and me and Sime are off to see Chrissey's band play at Club Kitten, which is held at the HQ Club in Camden Lock. We're having a beer and I see this really old guy lurching towards the men's toilet. Although the club is full of Cheatin' Chicken* he looks out of place, though he seems very familiar. I check him out, Simon checks him out. We are both afraid that he will notice us checking him out. We come to the awful conclusion that he doesn't just look a bit like a decrepit Mark E Smith, he is a decrepit Mark E Smith. Let me clue you in: a final trimester foetus after chemotherapy, he looks like he has no teeth and his hairline is a bit odd but he still has his trademark catalogue leather jacket and slacks. I can't tear my eyes off him, and as is usual in these situations I find myself wondering what his penis looks like. He's standing at the bar with a 90s version of Brix, a Camden cyber-hippy bird with hair wraps and Buffalo platform trainers. I look around to see if anyone else recognises him, he seems to have a little clique of pals with whom he chats. He smokes and drinks bottles of Sol with the wedges of lime pointedly removed.

I try and stop staring. We move to a different part of the club, although I know exactly where he is the whole time. I watch Chrissey's band, Simon's down at the front and I'm alone at the back. I'm semi-aware of someone behind me so I turn around and there's a big toothless baby smiling at me. It's him! I look around again quickly and Simon comes back.

The story ends with us leaving early in order to catch the last train home. Mark E Smith departs a few moments before us and I notice him stalking towards the canal into the darkness like Jack the Ripper. He's all alone. I imagine him falling in and drowning. I wonder where he's going, some homeless men's hostel? Wow, what's happened to him, and me as well, because I am old now too."

"After the show, I saw the Sixteen Tons promoter, Pasha, who looked like he'd been to hell and back. That was enough to convince me to stay away from MES. Later, another person connected to the show described working with Smith this way: "The motherfucking shithead cunt! I've never worked with such a fucking asshole in my fucking life! He thinks he's Mick fucking Jagger or something!" A taxi driver told me that the band left at 5am, fistfighting their way out of the club. "It's true, Mark E. fought with the band. They were all drunk." Supposedly the only way he was convinced to take the stage on the second night was after they were threatened with getting kicked out of their hotels and having their airline tickets revoked.

It worked: the second night the band was only 45 minutes late"

*$ Maybe you?ve read Smith?s childhood autobiography, Growing Up With Cerebral Palsy (WRS Publishing, 1995), or were inspired by his contributing authorship in the Chicken Soup for the Soul best-selling series. Or, maybe you?ve followed his infamous career via WheelchairJunkie.com and countless articles in publications ranging from New Mobility to Malevolence to the San Francisco Chronicle. In any case, Too Fast is Mark E. Smith to the core, with never-before-published pieces, intertwined with selected classics like ?Flirting with Fame,? roaring through a life of wild wonderment and uninhibited disability.