The Filth and the Fury
shock-haired, foul-mouthed anti-heroes
from the housing estates of the welfare class
they kicked the carcass of British music
with venom, violence and distortion
a music held together with safety pins
primitive, abrasive - a roar of anarchy
with Johnny Rotten's animal snarl
declaiming destruction and no future
at the 100 Club, spikes and leather
soon replaced long hair and flares
torn shirts and trash became fashionable
and dance became a dangerous game
they declared war on the UK
hated by parents, but loved by the tabloids
the headlines screaming of filth and fury
when Steve said "dirty fucker" on tv
and in the Jubilee Year
they staged a riot on the Thames
to launch God Save The Queen
- the song would never get to number one
with church and country at their throats
implosion imminent, they fled to the States
where Sid split the skull of a redneck cowboy
then slid into the rhythm of addiction
in Winterland they played their last
one song dragged on for too long
Rotten's final rant - no fun, no fun, no fun
before slumping into a pool of his own spit
A Riot of Noise
The Jesus and Mary Chain, London 1985
the audience is restless
tired of broken bottles
claw hammers and boredom
the band can barely walk
too drunk to be scared
numb with beer and bravado
they turn their backs
on the hate-filled missiles
slump motionless over mikes
hide behind a wall of feedback
antagonizing the angry mob
with slabs of drone and distortion
they finish early, refuse an encore
the crowd take to the stage
entertain themselves with destruction
back in the dressing room
the band listen to a riot of noise
the music of punks beating down doors
Watching the Sky
Doolittle, Pixies 1989
one night, we took the ute
out beyond the mangroves
where a dirt track followed power lines
to a sand-flat scattered with wrecks
this is where I saw the saucer, she said
and led us across the mud and stink
kicking at dead crabs and scrap metal
while Frank threw knives at the stars
we watched the sky, shared cigarettes
the ute behind us - lights on, doors wide open
its belly full of "Debaser" and "Wave of Mutilation"
like some fiery-eyed flying beast, roaring at the night
Killer Beats
Dig Your Own Hole, The Chemical Brothers 1997
I was pilled up on E
dancing like a maniac
when a fight broke out between
Ed and the skinhead bouncer
when Ed's face caught a glass
I took a blade to the bouncer
slashed the bastard's arm
my jacket graffitied with blood
as sirens split the night
I ran towards the underpass
steam streaming from my mouth
my heart pounding at 180 bpm
Lemon
U2, Las Vegas, 1997
icons fill screens
four-storeys high
a quartet of neon superheros
the Edge is a cowboy
astride a white guitar
shooting sparks into space
Adam and Larry
an artillery of rhythm
oozing macho and muscle
Bono punches the sky
elicits adoration
and a sea of stars
they imitate the divine
levitate above the crowd
in a giant mechanical lemon
but smoke swallows them
the superheros are stranded
choking on their conceit |
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