supersoul

1) The QOTSA are undoubtedly among the best rock bands that exist today....
2) I paid a few lira to see Kyuss, today I hear about people who can afford to shell out 70/80 like the gentlemen who today, along with Veltroni, go to see Springsteen....
3) If a girl has the courage to be part of the QOTSA fan club, she deserves all my respect; she’s no less than those who jump into the mosh pit today and the next day put on a suit and tie to go to the office........
4) Nick Olivieri guaranteed not the genius but the madness that the band equally needs, today more than ever......

Great JJ Cale, his "Cocaine" and "After Midnight" in the hands of Eric Clapton have made billions, and we want to say that Knopfler from Dire Straits took from him that lazy way of playing the guitar?
My favorite album is Troubadour from 1976, which along with the one reviewed stands out significantly from the rest of his works.

I won't keep you in suspense: the term "dead ringer" refers to the double that exists in every person, to their dark side, as if we have a perverse twin.

And then what do New Bomb Turks, Anti-Flag, and Casualties have to do with this discussion, since they're from another generation? Oh right, I forgot that the first one, the one experienced by these old-timers envious of today's fifteen-year-olds, you haven't lived it.

peggiopunx (not intended as a band but as a nickname, Ed.) ...are you still insisting? then you must be stubborn!!! That one can review whatever he wants but shouldn't be offended if, with good reason, some old man tells him he wrote nonsense. And a lot of nonsense has been said in this discussion: Strummer pushed to make music after seeing the Ramones in '76 (when in fact he had already been playing with the 101ers for two years), the Pistols a boy band of clowns with pins in their cheeks (so perhaps in the USA hardcore scene Henry Rollins is an idiot who needs to tattoo his whole body or Darby Crash a clown because he used to cut himself on stage?) And Vicious lost his life for being in a boy band. I quote NIBIIO: no one represented punk better than the Pistols, they didn't know how to play, they made you jump to your feet as soon as they started playing God Save the Queen or Anarchy in the UK, they gave it their all for a few months and now they're in the Bahamas enjoying life with the best hookers, money that they took from the majors, and maybe they’re pissing on that punk starry sky of '77 where, according to the fifteen-year-old friend, they came after the Ramones and the Clash in sounding dirty but catchy. If this isn't punk... And I'll stop here, because I'm tired of this discussion too.

ha ha ha, especially if they are your favorites, and then those were especially for whiskj!

maybe you’ll have the worst punx among your favorites, but in 1982 I was smashing my head in the pogo along with other idiots to the sound of the Poison Girls playing live around here, I believed it. Just as I think that anyone named after a band believes in its philosophy (shall we call it that?). Otherwise, what kind of fucking favorite band would it be?

without the Crass, the worst punks wouldn't have been born, eh eh eh

Here are people who call themselves peggiopunx or anarcho and then preach respect and humility, but please, don't be hypocrites—call yourselves good Samaritans or the holy monk Zenon! I would like to understand what value can be given to reviews like these. I admit that taste is subjective, but when I hear utter universal nonsense like the Clash converting to reggae (!) or that their early albums had dirty yet catchy punk sound (!!), and that albums like Sandinista are a decline in style (!!!), then I get angry and can no longer respond for myself. Much respect to those who review albums just for the joy of it, but for crying out loud: if the review is garbage, I don’t know what other physiological material to classify it as, dirty punk but more "catchy."

Well… I wonder why I (wrongly?) can never associate Cronenberg with the gruesome and the disgusting. Of course, this film is a masterpiece, a mature masterpiece, that doesn’t need, like in "Rabid" or "The Brood," dicks sprouting from armpits or stomachs that expand like vaginal fissures to explain its extreme pessimism about the illusion that man can control the body.