follow us in feedly
  • A girl's best friend is her guitar
  • Activism
  • Advertising
  • Advertorial
  • American-style (Republican) Christianity
  • Amusing
  • Animals
  • Animation
  • Art
  • Belief
  • Books
  • Class War
  • Crime
  • Current Events
  • Dance
  • Design
  • Drugs
  • Economy
  • Environment
  • Fashion
  • Featured
  • Feminism
  • Food
  • Games
  • Heroes
  • Hip-hop
  • History
  • Hysteria
  • Idiocracy
  • Kooks
  • Literature
  • Media
  • Movies
  • Music
  • Occult
  • One-hit wonders
  • Politics
  • Pop Culture
  • Punk
  • Queer
  • R.I.P.
  • Race
  • Reggae
  • Science/Tech
  • Sex
  • Sports
  • Stupid or Evil?
  • Superstar
  • Television
  • The wrong side of history
  • They hate us for our freedom
  • Thinkers
  • U.S.A.!!!
  • Unorthodox
  • Best Of
  • Sponsored Post
  • VICE
  • New York City 1977 is a living, breathing thing in Chantal Akerman’s ‘News from Home’
    05:58 pm


    Chantal Akerman
    News From Home

    Chantal Akerman has died. Cause of death was suicide. She was 65 years old. I wrote about Akerman’s News From Home a few years ago here on Dangerous Minds. As a tribute to her fine work as a director, cinematographer and writer, I am sharing it again. 

    The films of Chantal Akerman are meditations on space, interior and exterior, and the emptiness within the clutter of both. There is a sense of alienation and distance in her films that can be chilly and desolate. The camera moored to the urbanscapes and architecture she sets her eye upon. Her art records the simple drama that exists in the day to day rhythm of life as lived, rarely pumped up by any narrative or cinematic gimmickry. Under the steady gaze of the camera the ordinary can be quite magical. 

    In Akerman’s News From Home , the main character is New York in the rough and tumble ‘70s. Akerman, a young woman alone in the city during perilous times, uses the camera as a means of dealing with a new and alien reality.  As Akerman reads from letters sent from Belgium written by her concerned mother, we watch Manhattan in constant movement, a living, breathing thing. Among the people, buildings, automobiles and streets of the city, there is the quiet, lonely soul who observes and feels apart from it all - watching detached, without engagement but great curiosity. The letters create an intimacy that contrasts profoundly with the coolness of the imagery.

    Shot in 1977, News From Home, captures New York at a time when many artists, like Akerman, were coming to the city to tap into the energy and to be challenged by the prospects of living in the belly of the beast. It was a wonderful time, but it was also a dark time. In these images, you see a city on the cusp of transformation…for the good and the bad. From a purely historical point of view, to see 90 uninterrupted minutes of Manhattan in the mid-70s is a treat for my eyes. Rich with memories. This is the New York that informed revolutions in popular arts and spawned the arrival of punk culture.

    Click the option to watch it in high definition, the clarity is stunning.

    Posted by Marc Campbell | Leave a comment
    Dangerous Finds: Superman’s penis; $100,000,000 Trump bounty; the world ends tomorrow!
    12:30 pm

    Current Events

    Dangerous Finds

    Frank Miller drew Superman’s wang: This is an actual comic cover drawn by legendary comic artist Frank Miller. It’s the cover to a companion comic to Miller’s upcoming Dark Knight III: The Master Race series, and it appears DC is actually going to publish it despite the fact that 1) it is horrible, 2) it is laughable and 3) you can clearly see the outline of Superman’s junk in his red briefs. (io9)

    A glitch in time: How Oval’s 1995 ambient masterpiece predicted our digital present:  By virtue of being atmospheric, ambient music tends to make the listener aware of the hardware involved in reproducing it, so it’s always, in a sense, about technology. But Oval’s version was a direct engagement with the up-to-the-minute details of sound recording, storage, and reproduction. With Oval, a critique of the entire system of recorded music was built into every gesture. (Pitchfork)

    Antivax activists fund yet another study to “prove” vaccines cause autism, which they don’t: Three dozen dead monkeys later, antivaxxers are STILL WRONG. Heartbreaking and disgusting. (Science Based Medicine)

    Who the N.R.A. Really Speaks For: Not that this should come as a surprise to anyone who’s at all attentive and non-delusional, but the N.R.A. does not fight for the rights of America’s gun owners, it’s a lobbying group representing the commercial interests of gun and ammunition manufacturers. (New York Times)

    No, Carly Fiorina, a degree in medieval history doesn’t qualify you to fight ISIS: Worst-person-in-the-world contender Fiorina is a approaching Trumpian levels of GOP sideshow amusement lately. (The Guardian)

    There’s a “Sexy Pizza Rat” Halloween costume: You thought the “sexy” costume trope shark-jumped ages ago? Nope. IT CAN ALWAYS GET DUMBER. (HuffPo)

    Drug Kingpin El Chapo puts 100 million USD on Donald Trump, dead or alive: YIKES! We aren’t over-fond of him either, but holy shit. The world’s most wanted and most dangerous drug lord, Joaquin “El Chapo” Guzman, is offering a US$100 million bounty for whoever delivers billionaire and Republican presidential hopeful Donald Trump to him dead or alive. (TeleSur)

    Kurt Cobain—“Sappy”: A 7″ containing Cobain’s cover of the Beatles’ “And I Love Her” and an early demo version of Nirvana rarity “Sappy,” alternately known as “Sad”—both used in the film Montage of Heck—is coming out, and today, the latter has arrived. A similar early version of the song has been available on bootlegs and online for a while now, but this is a cleaner, slightly polished up mix, and it sounds both great and heartbreaking. (Stereogum)

    The world ends tomorrow and YOU MAY DIE! While our planet may have survived September’s “blood moon”, it will be permanently destroyed on Wednesday, 7 October, a Christian organization has warned. The eBible Fellowship, an online affiliation headquartered near Philadelphia, has based its prediction of an October obliteration on a previous claim that the world would end on 21 May 2011. While that claim proved to be false, the organization is confident it has the correct date this time. (The Guardian)

    Hackable DIY synthesizer kit for only $40: This straightforward, three-pot kit looks like loads of beginner-friendly fun. (Tech Will Save Us)

    This drunk kid really, really wanted mac & cheese:

    Posted by Ron Kretsch | Leave a comment
    ‘It’s Called Anarchy Arsehole’: The art of the punk black leather jacket
    11:51 am


    Vivienne Westwood
    leather jackets

    When a chubby Marlon Brando roared into town on a motorbike in The Wild One he popularized the black leather jacket as a fashionable symbol of rebellion. Leather jackets may have been worn by bikers for protection, but they were quickly adopted by rock musicians (from Eddie Cochran, Gene Vincent, The Beatles to Elvis) as an endorsement of their outsider status.

    While fashions changed in the 1960s to soft denim and psychedelic colors, the black leather jacket never lost its iconic status as edgy, radical and subversive. The black leather jacket of the revolutionary students in Paris in 1968, became the fashionable uniform of the chaotic Baader-Meinhof, before returning to its spiritual home in the form of the matching outfits of proto-punk rockers The Ramones.

    Joey, Johnny, Dee Dee and Tommy made the black leather jacket de rigueur for punks, and soon became the latest fashion sold by a canny Vivienne Westwood and Malcolm McLaren in their London boutique SEX. 

    Teenagers across the UK bought cheap black leather or faux leather jackets and decorated them with the names of their favorite bands, political slogans, or mini manifestoes written in White Out, paint, or nail polish. There was a naif art to such DIY accessorizing, a uniqueness that encapsulated the essence of punk (its ability to offend) and the character of the jacket’s owner.

    This small selection of photographs captures some of the early DIY punk leather jackets from the mid-1970s to the later more fashion conscious dress code of the 1980s and 1990s. Nowadays a punk leather jacket with studs and badges will set you back $200 on eBay.
    More black leather jackets, after the jump…

    Posted by Paul Gallagher | Leave a comment
    Renoir haters descend on Boston to stop the scourge of Impressionism
    10:40 am


    Pierre-Auguste Renoir

    This is weird, but I get it: a group of protestors took up signs against the Impressionist master Pierre-Auguste Renoir at the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. The protest was organized via an Instagram called “Renoir Sucks at Painting,” which yesterday published a call for the resignation of BMFA’s curators. Via the Boston Globe:

    It’s nothing personal, says Ben Ewen-Campen, he just doesn’t think French impressionist Pierre-Auguste Renoir is much of a painter. Monday, the Harvard postdoc joined some like-minded aesthetes for a playful protest outside the Museum of Fine Arts. The rally, which mostly bewildered passersby, was organized by Max Geller, creator of the Instagram account Renoir Sucks at Painting, who wants the MFA to take its Renoirs off the walls and replace them with something better. Holding homemade signs reading “God Hates Renoir” and “Treacle Harms Society,” the protesters ate cheese pizza purchased by Geller, and chanted: “Put some fingers on those hands! Give us work by Paul Gauguin !” and “Other art is worth your while! Renoir paints a steaming pile!” Craig Ronan, an artist from Somerville, learned about the protest on Instagram and decided to join. “I don’t have any relationship with these people aside from wanting artistic justice,” he said. The museum hasn’t commented on the fledgling movement, but a few folks walking by Monday seemed amused. “I love their sense of irony,” said Liz Byrd, a grandmother from Phoenix who spent the morning in the museum with her daughter and grandchild. “I love Renoir, but I think this is great.”



    That Instagram is loaded with detail shots of Renoir paintings purporting to show the artist’s ineptitude, and, far more amusingly, museumgoers flipping off paintings. And again, I get it. While Impressionism is correctly heralded in art history as the birth of the avant-garde for its rejection of academia, I personally—apart from a huge soft spot for Degas—kinda fucking hate it. It’s great for museums, as it’s the one movement that’s guaranteed to earn loads of admissions from affluent suburbanites who otherwise know approximately dick about art, but all that damned pastel-iness is nauseating. Its historical importance aside, that shit is why we now suffer the infernal art of Thomas Kinkade. When I read the news of this protest, I flashed back to a 20-year-old piece in The Baffler #8 called “Pelf and Powder Blue,” completely torpedoing contemporary reverence for the movement as the basis for a colossal scam:

    Monet—and Impressionism generally—is a cultural miracle-worker capable of triggering pious, near-unanimous wonder on a scale Americans rarely encounter anymore. Decades pass, the economy slips, but Impressionism remains the golden genre, the magic formula capable of drawing the sturdy bourgeoisie of our homeland up in reverent mannered lines stretching placidly around the block. In those soft-focus Victorian scenes we catch a glimpse of that prelapsarian time when the rebel yawp of modernism—later to become so menacing and theoretical and satanic—resulted in nothing more threatening than pastel colors and nice renderings of lawn parties.

    The appeal of Impressionism is a simple thing, really. More successfully than almost any other cultural offering available in America today, Impressionism brings the two most potent elements of consumerism—safeness and rebellion—together into a commodifiable whole duly certified by almost ridiculously sanguine market approval. This is why it’s the lawn parties and flower gardens of Monet and Renoir that win the public’s plaudits—never the dark Communard tones of Courbet—and why any exposition of their works must always make loud and public declarations of their subversive, radical, even revolutionary, daring.

    The magic of impressionism, the secret formula that keeps its prices so eternally high, is that it gets it both ways, enjoying the eternal approbation of both Oldsmobile and art professor alike. On the one hand it is nice art, profoundly appealing to the very people artists strive endlessly to offend. (Relax with the smiling soft-focus ladies of Renoir, always enjoying a vacation at some modest pleasure spot. Luxuriate in the pleasant pastels of Monet, those soft pinks, purples, blues, and turquoises that can be found to match any suburban bathroom.) On the other hand, just as the Red Dog never appears without prudish tamers of some kind for him to defy, one never reads a discussion or sees an exhibit of Impressionism that neglects to mention over and over again the Impressionists’ exalted status as the very first bourgeoisie-shockers, orthodoxy-resisters, and rule-breakers. Their famous rejection by the French Salon is viewed by many as the starting point of modernism, the original cosmic exchange between intolerant patriarchs and rebel bohemians. With Impressionism you can have nice pictures of flowers and fantasies of persecution by an intolerant establishment, all in the same package.

    So there’s that. Here are some images from “Renoir Sucks at Painting.” We at DM wish them all the best in their future endeavors.





    Via ArtNet News

    Posted by Ron Kretsch | Leave a comment
    Website offers Kim Davis $500k to do interracial lesbian porn scene
    10:10 am

    Current Events

    Kim Davis

    Oh, Kim Davis, what is it about the simple stand you made about gay marriage that makes you such irresistible fodder for mockery? Was it the four separate times you said “I do” at the altar or your homespun manners, hairdo, and style of dress? Whatevs, you’ve become a quintessential 2015 meme and people are going to run it into the ground, dadgummit.

    Example: The Dogfart Network, the self-described “undisputed kings of interracial porn,” has offered Kim Davis half a million dollars to secure “a redemption” by appearing in one of their movies, at the website

    Here’s the press release:

    With all the controversy surrounding Rowan County, Kentucky clerk Kim Davis’ refusal to issue same sex marriage licenses even after the Supreme Court of the United States made same sex marriage the law of the land, The Dogfart Network which is the leading online destination for Adult Interracial content is offering the Holy Kim Davis a chance at redemption.

    The undisputed kings of interracial porn are dangling $500k to star in a scene for their site, which is one of 23 sites in the companies vast Adult Entertainment Empire. specializes in Lesbian Interracial Erotica.

    “We here at Dogfart have always believed in equality. We have interracial sites, gay sites, straight sites, and we think Kim Davis has been appalling,” said a Dogfart Spokesman. “We are giving her a chance at a redemption. We are willing to drop half a million bucks for Kim to come out to our studio and shoot an Interracial Lesbian scene for our network.”

    The offer will stand for the next week. She is also welcome to bring her family with her on an all expense paid vacation.

    Those of you who are inexplicably interested in the overlap of Kim Davis and lesbian sex are probably already aware of the “erotic story” ebook that depicted her first foray into steamy jailhouse sex, but just in case you aren’t, here it is. (Description: “Kim is a simple, small-town woman who finds herself thrown in jail in a dispute over religion and sexuality. She quickly discovers the importance of knowing friend from foe in the notoriously horny women’s wing and, with the help of her beautiful cellmate, sets out to learn the ropes.” Oh my!)
    via Death and Taxes

    Posted by Martin Schneider | Leave a comment
    Bizarre paintings of mecha robots attacking East European peasants of the early 20th century
    08:36 am


    mecha robots

    The Polish artist Jakub Rozalski, who goes by the sobriquet “Mr. Werewolf,” has produced an amusing series of steampunk-ish canvases in which serene and idyllic rustic landscapes of what seem to be Eastern Europe (Rozalski’s very back yard, you might say) in the early decades of the 20th century feature the prominent and inexplicable existence of completely fictitious giant mecha robots.

    Various iconographies are jammed together, the imagery of peasant life in the early years of collectivization, the imagery of science fiction, the imagery of modern warfare…. add it all up and you might find yourself calling to mind, ohhh, the first few scenes of The Empire Strikes Back, set on the icy terrain of Hoth, perhaps?

    Rozalski’s intent is “to commemorate this sad and tragic period in history, in my own way, to light on this parts of history that usually remain in the shadows of other events… remember and honor the history, but live in the present.” He adds, “I like to mix historical facts and situations with my own motives, ideas and visions. ... I attach great importance to the details, the equipment, the costumes, because it allows you to embed painting within a specified period of time.” 

    Clck on any image to get a larger view.








    via Hi-Fructose

    Posted by Martin Schneider | Leave a comment
    Psychedelic sex kicks of Times Square grindhouses

    If Times Square grindhouses still existed, the films of Nicolas Winding Refn would be right at home projected on their faded and tattered screens. With films like Drive, The Pusher Trilogy and Only God Forgives, Refn has proven to be a worthy heir to the mantle worn by film makers such as Mario Bava, Tobe Hooper, Enzo G. Castellari, Seijun Suzuki and Bo Arne Vibenius. Refn’s films are beautifully shot, brutally violent and possessed of a certain dark poetry that is very easy to appreciate but hard as fuck to create.

    We can now add curator of trash cinema movie posters to Refn’s ever-expanding resume. In collaboration with author Alan Jones (whose bibliography is as hip as it gets), Refn has unleashed one of the most impressive coffee table books to come out in many moons. The Act Of Seeing (Fab Press) is a hardbound collection of several hundred beautifully reproduced exploitation posters from the heyday of truly independent cinema. The Act Of Seeing is a doorway into a lost world that is gone forever. While Tarantino, Rodriguez and Refn himself may honor the grindhouse aesthetic in their own movies, the era in which these kinds of dirt cheap DIY assaults on good taste is behind us. Filmmakers may try to replicate them but irony is no substitute for genuine unselfconscious badness.

    Act Of Seeing is available for purchase here. It’s a limited edition and my gut feeling is it will sell out soon. $80 is not too much to pay for a book of this scope. It weighs eight pounds so figure it’s costing you ten bucks a pound.  If you’ve got an Amazon Prime account and you want to get the book fast, click here.

    Here are a few of my favorites from The Act Of Seeing:


    More posters, plus an interview with Nicolas Winding Refn and Alan Jones after the jump…

    Posted by Marc Campbell | Leave a comment
    If you love Neutral Milk Hotel (or Marc Bolan), give Raymond Listen & The Licorice Roots a try*
    06:47 am


    Raymond Listen
    Shimmy Disc
    Licorice Roots

    Last week Jeff Feuerzeig, the director of Half Japanese: The Band That Would Be King and The Devil and Daniel Johnston emailed to thank me for turning him on to the Licorice Root Orchestra album. He was referring to an old DM post about the cult band Raymond Listen (aka Licorice Roots). I took a look at that old post—I think it’s one of the greatest obscure gems that we’ve ever shown a spotlight here on DM and I was disappointed to see that the YouTube counters on their videos have barely budged since that post originally went up. And that pissed me off, so here it is again. Maybe a few more of you will pick up on it this time. Trust me, kids, this one is a real treat.

    *If I’d have only mentioned Raymond Listen or the Licorice Roots in the title, would you even be reading this? Probably not, right? And who could blame you? Even by obscure band standards, they’re still pretty damned obscure. Obscure to the point where pretty much no one has ever heard of them. That’s why I made the Neutral Milk Hotel comparison up front, to draw you in (For some of you, admit it, I had you at “Neutral M…”). Stay with me here, though. You will be glad you did.

    Still, it’s not really that egregious of a blog “bait-n-switch” title thing, either, because if you are a fan of Neutral Milk Hotel’s classic 1998 album In the Aeroplane Over the Sea or John Lennon’s Imagine or Mind Games albums, for that matter, I can assure you that you will find a whole lot to love about the quirky low-fi pleasures of Raymond Listen and the Licorice Roots, too, in particular their 1993 debut, Licorice Root Orchestra (There was a name change after the first album from “Raymond Listen” to “The Licorice Roots,” to clarify. The leader/singer/songwriter is a guy called Edward Moyse).

    I’m not going to pretend that I know anything about this band, but I’ve listened to this album, A LOT, in the past twenty years. Kramer, of Bongwater/Shimmy Disc fame produced the album and he gave me the CD when it originally came out: “This is a masterpiece,” I recall him saying in his WC Fields-esque way. “This guy is a fuckin’ genius.”

    I’d have to concur. I also recall Kramer telling me that they once had about fifteen musicians onstage, all tied together (how great is that?) and that there was “one chick who just plays finger cymbals.”

    When Licorice Root Orchestra came out, Melody Maker had this to say:

    This, their divine debut, works as an ensemble piece. These 13 dream-dipped delights provide the perfect soundtrack to some sepia-tinted silent movie and manage to pull off the near-impossible: they are appealingly gauche but never gormless, naive but never nerdy. Most are under three minutes, their wealth of tiny details strung on a delicate, twittering frame.

    “September in the Night” and “Cloud Symphonies” are pop songs like you’ve never heard them, impressionistic, hazy things that throb with wobbly, sub-aquatic strings and a piano that sounds like it’s floating up from the cellar. You can thank Shimmy’s chief kook, Kramer, for that, of course. There’s a general air of uneasiness beneath the charm, though, of Something Nasty never far away. “Lemon Peel Medallion”, for example, is full of fairground melancholy, while “Tangled Weeks” begins like the band started playing something else and then had to quickly change tack. Like most of these tunes, it moves to a strange, seesaw waltz, tinkling with glockenspiel, flute, finger cymbals, and piano.

    “Licorice Root Orchestra” is a delicate work of weird genius; violet-tinted, sherbert-sweet, and lonely as Coney Island on a wet Sunday. Dip in.

    Weird genius…. It’s true!

    The NME sayeth:

    “Syrup-sweet flute and piano ditties offer simple, magical, childlike tones.”

    And like I say, it’s been nearly two decades that I’ve listened to this album a fuck of a lot. I’ve made many, many copies for people on cassette and then on CD-R. I unabashedly love the Licorice Root Orchestra album and it holds a special place of esteem (and obscurity) in my record collection. There’s something so ethereal and gossamer delicate about the sound, and then there is an element of Edward Moyse’s guitar playing that I love where he somehow always manages to sound like he’s trying to catch up to the rest of the band (and I mean that in the best possible way, he’s got an idiosyncratic guitar technique every bit as unique and off-kilter as Keith Levene’s or The Bevis Frond’s). An out-of-tune upright piano laden with reverb adds a distinctly Lennon-esque element to their sound and Moyse’s voice is a divine and languid instrument, calling to mind a blissfully stoned Marc Bolan. His/their sound has also put me in mind of Fleetwood Mac’s “Tusk” (the song not the album).

    To be honest, although I listen to that first Raymond Listen album at least once a year, if not much more often than that, before yesterday, I never really looked them up on the Internet or YouTube. I was under the impression that they’d recorded just one album. There’s very little information out there about them, even the Raymond Listen website is just a few stills and no text whatsoever. The Licorice Roots website isn’t that much more forthcoming, either.

    Here’s what AllMusic has to say::

    What if, instead of splitting off to form Neutral Milk Hotel, the Olivia Tremor Control, and the Apples in Stereo, the original core members of the Elephant 6 collective had formed one band that incorporated Jeff Mangum’s scratchy lo-fi folk, Will Cullen Hart and Bill Doss’ trippy experimental tendencies, and Robert Schneider’s knack for clever pop hooks? The results would have sounded very much like the Delaware psych-pop trio the Licorice Roots. In fact, the Licorice Roots pre-date the recording careers of all three of those bands, but the band’s low profile, coupled with wide gaps between releases, has made them hidden treasure for all but the most devoted fans of modern psychedelia.

    But before the Licorice Roots, there was Raymond Listen. Singer/songwriter and guitarist Edward Moyse and drummer David Milsom formed Raymond Listen in the college town of Newark, DE, in 1990. By 1992, organist and percussionist Dave Silverman completed the group, and in 1993 they scored the coveted Cute Band Alert blurb from the post-feminist teen magazine Sassy. Raymond Listen’s debut album, Licorice Root Orchestra, was produced by New Jersey noise pop maven Kramer and released on his Shimmy-Disc label that same year. The band added a second guitarist and percussionist for a national tour in early 1994, but split up shortly thereafter. However, only a few months later, the core trio of Moyse, Silverman, and Milsom regrouped as the Licorice Roots. Their first album under the new name took three years to complete before being released as Melodeon in 1997. A second album, Caves of the Sun, was self-released in 2003. In 2006, the Licorice Roots signed with the Chicago-based indie Essay Records and released their third album, Shades of Streamers. At the same time, Essay reissued Licorice Root Orchestra in an expanded and remastered edition under the Licorice Roots name.

    Holy shit. That means there are four other albums from these guys, plus a reissued, expanded version of the one they made with Kramer? As unlikely as it seems to me that I’d never even once done a Google search for one of my top favorite albums of all time (Licorice Root Orchestra would easily be in my top 100, if not top 50 albums), I’m happy to hear more (and it’s all on Spotify). You can buy the CD of this minor masterpiece used on Amazon for as little as 70 cents, which is ridiculous.

    After the jump, experience the beautiful music of Edward Moyse, Raymond Listen and the Licorice Roots….

    Posted by Richard Metzger | Leave a comment
    ‘What is Punk?’: Children’s book answers that question with clay figures of Iggy Pop and the Clash
    06:41 am


    What Is Punk
    Anny Yi
    Eric Morse

    Last year, DM told you about a marvelous children’s book called What Every Child Needs To Know About Punk Rock. In that post I mused a bit at how odd it was, given that punk has been identifiably a thing for roughly 40 years, that there weren’t more books explaining that musical/cultural/fashion phenomenon to kids—there are, after all, members of early punk bands who now have grandchildren, and there’ve long been punk band onesies for the offspring (sorry) of the conspicuously hip.

    Well, it looks like something IS stirring in those waters after all, because now there’s the wonderful What Is Punk? published by Akashic, the imprint owned by former Soulside/GVSB bassist Johnny Temple. Akashic became widely known among normals a few years back for the amazing kid lit parody Go the Fuck to Sleep, and have been in the pages of DM before for their publication of The Jesus Lizard Book and David Yow’s Copycat. While What Every Child Needs To Know About Punk Rock was co-written by a child development specialist and focused on DIY culture and rebellion against capitalist norms, “What is Punk?” is a different beast altogether, a whimsical primer on that movement’s early history written in verse by Eric Morse, a writer and publicist who in the oughts founded Trampoline House magazine.

    Once upon a time,
    there was a deafening roar,
    that awakened the people,
    like never before.

    With their eyes open wide
    they shouted in fear,
    “What new sound is this?”
    and covered their ears.


    More after the jump…

    Posted by Ron Kretsch | Leave a comment
    Surprising photos of a young, good-looking André the Giant from the late 60s and early 70s
    06:25 am


    André the Giant

    A young André the Giant lifing the front end of a car
    A young André the Giant lifting up the front of a car
    Before André René Roussimoff (aka, André the Giant) became best known for his wild, out of control hair and mean mug in the world of professional wrassling, he was really quite dapper and dare I say, hot in his pre-WWF days.
    André the Giant as
    André the Giant as “Jean Ferre,” age 18 (billed at a height of 6’10)
    Born in Grenoble, France (and neighbor of the great Samuel Beckett) André wrestled under a few other names during his early years. Such as Jean Ferre (or Géant Ferré”) after moving to Paris at the age of seventeen, and later as the “Monster Roussimoff” in the early 70s while tearing up Japan for the IWE (International Wrestling Enterprise). Mr. Roussimoff was quite the looker, no?
    André the Giant in the French Riveria, 1967 (age 21)
    André the Giant in the French Riviera, 1967 (age 21)
    I suppose his legendary drinking (Modern Drunkard author Richard English claims André‘s bar tab for a month’s stay at the Hyatt in London while filming The Princess Bride came to just over $40,000) and his love of gourmet food was in part to blame for his slide into his better known, much loved self. André was even the proprietor of a short-lived French restaurant in Montreal, although it appears that the main motivation for going into the restaurant trade was so he could sit at the bar and drink all the booze he wanted. Well played, André, Well played.
    André the Giant as
    André the Giant during one of his many trips to Japan as “Jean Ferre”
    Like many of you who read DM, I’m a HUGE fan of wrestling and its many heroes. And André the Giant is perhaps the greatest of them all. I hope that you enjoy looking at these images of the super suave Mr. Roussimoff as much as I enjoyed digging them up for you.

    I also included footage from one of André‘s film roles in Casse-tête chinois pour le judoka, or Chinese Headache For Judoka from 1967 which features a 21-year-old, incredibly agile André (sporting a “Moe Howard special” bowl cut hairdo) sparring with a room full of unfortunate opponents. 
    André the Giant at a Paris fashion show, 1966 (age 20)
    André the Giant at a Paris fashion show, 1966 (age 20)
    More “little” André after the jump…

    Posted by Cherrybomb | Leave a comment
    Page 1 of 1865  1 2 3 >  Last ›