Journals of Lord Malinov

the poetry of madness

Blondie

of course, there was nothing the punks hated more than disco and new wave.  Blondie had been punk but transmogrified (by virtue of a record contract) into a new-wave-disco band.  Some of the punks still spit when they mentioned Harry and her blondes.  The tendency to draw battle lines based on musical taste has always been an interesting one.  Rollins said the hardcore-punks were incredibly narrowminded when it came to variation on the punk genre formula.  The oppressed become the oppressors saith the Fanon.

Chrissie said the punks were ultimately embarrassed by riches.  Success inevitably unravelled the punk attitude.  If you really want to be an artist, you are never finished saying "fuck off."  The day we stop rebelling, we become the institution.

Not that there is anything wrong with being the institution, at least in some ways.  But sometimes the artist isn't ready to give away his "fuck off," and that's where the record contract becomes a death warrant.  Creativity cannot be tamed.  Attempts to rein the impulses lead to implosive destruction.

Turning power into a tool - there's the rub.  Without letting the power destroy you.  There's the trick.  Listening to the lamentations of regret as Sid fell prey to Nancy's horse.  Some spirals are inevitably downward.

You bring me closer to God.

I was a boogie singer . . . burning through the one night stands . . . they were dancing and singing . . . until you die.

Malinov

posted by: Malinov at 15:29 | link | comments |

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