Excerpts from Electric Degeneration, Degenerate Press' semi-weekly e-zine, free and ad-free. A full episode contains sections for music reviews, upcoming events, blasphemy, classifieds, and anything else we feel like saying. If you'd like to subscribe just contact us.
You can surf the entire archive.
A busy first week of the year flew past the Degenerate Press staff. Somewhere back there we saw The People Vs. Larry Flint, pretty good though we're not sure it lives up to the hype and it's only at ONE theater in town, Lafont Tara on Chesire Bridge, so see it while you can.
Saturday we headed to Athens to see a couple of bands. Orange Pussycat's last show was exciting, redundant metal with two drummers, though it was hard to tell from the sound.
Jucifer followed, the lead singer/guitarist looking like Garbage's lead singer with long red hair and the drummer attacking the set like the Muppet's Animal. No other musicians required for the odd sound, good stuff.
I wandered up to the bar to get a drink and was denied. It seems the Atomic has not renewed their liquor license, "Beer only." said the bartender. When questioned, he explained that they were losing their lease this summer and didn't want to renew the license because they're opening up a brew pub after the joint closes. The Athens music scene will no doubt suffer mightily.
Sunday afternoon's weekly all-ages matinee at the Point featured the DP's favorite locals The Woggles, shakin' the joint as always, followed by the Subsonics' best impersonation of a New York band with a bad attitude. They refused to play until some folks got up close to the stage and the drummer occasionally hurled ice into the crowd. Despite the overabundance of attitude, the music suffered little.
"Look, just gimme some inner peace or I'll mop the floor with ya'!!"
Homer, Simpson that is
So then I had in mind a short, to-the-point little Freditorial for this week's Electric Degeneration but then I stumbled across proof of a god SO skip to the Classifieds if you have no desire to hear CERTAIN proof of a supernatural being that runs our daily lives. Otherwise, read on, IF YOU DARE:
"I don't want to start any blasphemous rumors but I think that God's got a sick sense of humor and when I die I expect to find him laughing."
So you fall UTTERLY head-over-heals for some person. You spend MANY months working on this person until finally you seem to have a tenuous but entertaining relationship of sorts. You're on again, off again, on again, back and forth until you're COMPLETELY mad. Then you spend the best summer of your entire LIFE abroad with this person, going places and doing things you've never done before or are likely to do again. You're in DEEP, like deep as the abyss. Except there's no drinking from the river Styx to forget, oh no, it's ingrained in your very soul.
You get home and this person tears your heart out and throws it in the garbage bin, then tosses a little gasoline, maybe some old rags just for fun, and sets the mess alight. Why? 'Cause humans are stupid, that's why!
Months of recovery time go by. You have a fling to help you get over it. It helps to some degree. You go to the places you used to share together and things are going OK. It gets to a point where you almost don't think about this person for an hour at a time - a major accomplishment.
Just another Tuesday, you head to the Star Bar to shake a little booty, have a few drinks, and hope to meet some new folk to share in your misery and enhance your joy. All your friends back out, no surprise, so you're shakin' booty with strangers out on the dance floor. You're getting the eye from a few not-your-types and having a grand ol' time when what should slide out onto the dance floor? A clone of the heartbreaker, complete with a set of friends that are duplicates of the heartbreaker's friends, down to the most minute detail.
Hit on the clone, possibly get shot down and feel like total hell, OR possibly get someplace and be constantly reminded of the heartbreaker and feel like total hell? Smart, learned fool that you are, you take ample time and decide -
"Just a little peril?"
"NO. It's too perilous."
from Monty Python's Search For The Holy Grail
You hit the exit fast and crank that car to head home and what should be on the radio? "No Sugar Tonight" by The Guess Who. There IS a God, and he's one serious ASSHOLE.
Contact Degenerate Press
Take me to Degenerate Press' home page!
There's no place like home... no place like home...
All content on this site is owned by Degenerate Press and cannot be used without our permission. We have lawyers for friends with nothing better to do than cause trouble (no kidding), so play nice. Copyright © 2000, All Rights Reserved