supersoul

Yes Sheffield, but the Comsat Angels were much more polished and structured in their song format, nothing to do with provocateurs like Cabaret Voltaire and Clock DVA.

...and in parentheses the Clock DVA of "Buried Dreams" have a lot of the wonderful cinematic atmospheres (serial killer genre) of "War of nerves" that is on this record...

I completely agree; in fact, Watson's contribution seems limited even in the first of the two EPs. Kirk and Mallinder here leaned towards more percussive and tribal aspects. I remember "Protection" being very much in line with the kind of stuff the Clock DVA released in "Thirst" the year before. Indeed, "Music four songs" by ViceVersa would have never led one to think of an evolution (or devolution) of ABC. At that time, there was another Sheffield-style group but much more dance-oriented, with a name I liked a lot: The Danse Society with "Seduction."

krautrock, originals, creative freedom... but aren't they Can? After the first two truly underrated heavy albums with a great singer, Lucifer's Friend discover the Chicago of album V and mix them with UFO (who had a huge success in Germany with Flying)...

In parentheses, Clapton also snagged "Travellin' Light," which I think is the best track on the album. Honestly, I don't see all this jazz in the record (I have the worn-out vinyl); swinging blues ballads don’t necessarily equal jazz, and I don’t really see the typical atmospheres of the Band either. Some tracks are even funk, like 'Let Me Do It To You,' where you'll realize where Mark Knopfler went shopping for that guitar riff that rises and falls. Great album.

My impression was that of a terrible film made by an admirer of Pasolini who realized he didn't even measure up to the ingrown toenail of Pasolini's left big toe and therefore seeks revenge by robbing him of pages from "Petrolio," inserting him into homosexual relationships without even having the courage to be explicit, because Grimaldi is a petty bourgeois (isn't he the director of that crap, "Il Macellaio," with Parietti?) who knows the limits he can push to march alongside the prurient nature of the subject without going too far (and he’s no Ken Russell). The shameful epilogue, when with Pasolini dead amidst the shanties, he recites the reviews that brutalize “Salo' o le 120 giornate di Sodoma,” is telling.

Fuck, this site must be full of sharp psychiatrists to assert with such certainty that GG Allin wasn’t crazy. An upbringing in a house without water and electricity, with a lunatic father who prohibited speaking after sunset, and a brother even more delusional than him who called him JuJu (hence GG). He would go home after concerts half-naked, covered in blood and shit, with people watching him not to feign shock but to throw shit at him and have him throw it back. Now we all need someone to transgress for us while we sprawl on the couch with popcorn in hand, watching TV after a week of being good. Those who do rock 'n' roll know this, so there are those who throw shit and hit the audience, and there are those who take a bite out of a live bat. But then there are those who remain true to themselves and are consistent to the extreme, and those who end up doing a reality show on MTV with the whole family.

GG Allin was free because he was insane, and all insane people are free individuals; in certain tribes, they were respected because they were alien to the rules of rationality and thus closer to the supernatural. But if he's remembered for the banana he shoved up his ass and the shit he threw at the audience, then it's as Vortex says, he died for nothing.