cerita mat rempit

vs

petang tadi baru abis Sons of Anarchy season 2. Malam lak member ajak tengok Adnan Sempit..


HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA ganda 100000000000!!!



Aku dok umah masak megi.

Sons of Anarchy Season 2

Just finish the series today. Episode 13, season 2. I personally think that it is much better than season 1, which is by the way bloody great. The season started with the riff between Clay(MC president) and Jax (VP) over Donna's death in season one. Tara officially become Jax's old lady. Gemma is emotionally wreck after a certain incident. Half-sack got a ball implant. Chibs survived a car bomb. A much more dangerous and bastardly cunning enemy in the shape of Ethan Zoebelle- a member of League of American Nationalist(pro-Nazi) with a front in Charming Town in a form of a cigar shop, Impeccable Smokes. He and his hot little blonde daughter..

Ethan Zobelle

The series get more interesting as its progressed. And the ending is...quite the same style as the first SoA. Only triple the intensity. The Sons get their bloody revenge, every enemy taste the wrath of the Sons pointblank(except one or is it two?), all loose knot is tied. But a certain incident in episode one and the same ATF snake-tongue officer Agent June Stahl(forgive me for thinking she's hot) caused the last 15 minutes of the series go all awry and shit. No.. its a good kind of shit you know, like WTF!! good one. The twist literally twisted my little mind, begging for episode 14.
Its like you are about halfway to smile and then BAM!! the twist hit you square in the nut..What the fuck would happen to Half-Sack? What the fuck would happen to Abel? What the fuck would happen to Gemma? WHAT THE FUCK??

Damn you producer or director or whoever it is in charge of the story. Dont leave the fans with too many question, its a fuckin torture you know.

Kurt Sutter, the writer and play as Otto, and the legendary John Teller's H. Davidson

Guess i would have to wait for the third season now... "According to buddytv.com, the network decided to pick the series up for a third season, which will return in September 2010, after riding high into the season 2 finale, with a total of 4.33 million viewers. This was the series’ best ratings so far."..

..Sept '10..

..WTF??

"Knape...tak percaye?"

The White Stripes: Under Blackpool Lights [Dvd Rip]

Tracklist

When I Hear My Name
Black Math
Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground
I Think I Smell a Rat
Take a Whiff on Me
Astro
Outlaw Blues
Jack the Ripper
Jolene
Hotel Yorba
Death Letter
Do
The Hardest Button to Button
Truth Doesn’t Make a Noise
The Big Three Killed My Baby
Wasting My Time
You’re Pretty Good Looking (for a Girl)
Hello Operator
Apple Blossom
Ball and Biscuit
Let’s Shake Hands
I Fought Piranhas
Let’s Build a Home
Goin’ Back to Memphis
Seven Nation Army

http://rapidshare.com/files/136640954/WS.liv3.UBLs.ketro.part1.rar
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Chiba yusuke interview

Combat rock

TMGE takes it out of the garage and into the main arena

At the Tokyo office of Bad Music Co., Ltd. the walls are covered in skulls and crossbones of various designs and a man in black is sitting at a table smoking strong cigarettes.

He looks really cool in his sleek black gear and silver accessories, and sitting down next to him in my sweat-stained red T-shirt I feel like a bashed-up Datsun pulling into a parking lot next to a swanky Cadillac.

I click my 100 yen plastic lighter, but it's out of gas, and he reaches across, his fur-clad Zippo blazing like the Olympic torch.

His name is Yusuke Chiba, the singer of Thee Michelle Gun Elephant, the only Japanese rock 'n' roll band that's broken into the mainstream and you can claim is cool while keeping a straight face. And with a band name like that, that's even more impressive.

The trademark of TMGE's sound might be Chiba's unique craggy growl, but it is the tanklike bass rumble of Koji Ueno and the blitzkrieg stickwork of pintsize drummer Kazuyuki Kuhara (renowned as "The Soapland King") that drives the songs along at breakneck pace. Guitarist Futoshi Abe embellishes it all with insanely angular bluesy riffing and vicious guitar solos that dispense more attitude than Billy the Kid wielding a souped-up Kalashnikov.

The devastating sonic assault of the new album, "Rodeo Tandem Beat Specter," is the direction we'd all love mainstream Japanese rock music to go, so how come TMGE, apart from the limited success of Guitar Wolf, are the only garage rockers to muscle out of the underground and take the mainstream charts by storm?

"We did the tours and we put out the records," Chiba explains. And it's as simple as that -- hard work.

TMGE's output is amazing. The band has released five more studio albums since its 1996 debut, "Cult Grass Stars," and have toured incessantly.

Last year's "Casanova Snake" album has shifted 600,000 copies, and by the time TMGE completes their biggest Japan tour to date at the 9,000-capacity Makuhari Messe Exhibition Hall in November, it would be no surprise if "Rodeo Tandem Beat Specter" topped the 1 million sales mark.

Considering the TMGE guys have a reputation as beer-guzzling lunatics, I found it strange that the interview was taking place at 11 a.m. on a Saturday, of all mornings. When I find Chiba looking brilliantly pretty and insanely healthy and am told the reason for this ludicrously un-rock 'n' roll time is because he has to jet off to Sapporo in two hours for "promotional activities," I'm more than a little suspicious.

I begin to wonder whether these sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll rumors are part of a record-company campaign to cast TMGE as romantic outsiders, the kind of iconoclastic heroes who tap into our dark rebellious side -- whereas they might actually drink Perrier, chew lentils and always be in bed (alone) before midnight.

In what way, maybe even a small way, I ask Chiba, have you sold out since becoming famous?

"We'd never sell out just to be famous," says Chiba. "Once our company said we had to do a particular TV show and we said we didn't want to do it and there was this problem."

So did they appear on the show?

"We did," he admits, "and I guess appearing on that show was against our principles, but . . . the thing is, we completely trust in our promoter [record label Bad Music], so they rarely ask us to do something we don't like. That one time we had a big fight and our promoter ended up begging us so we relented."

And while "Rodeo Tandem Beat Specter" might be packed with grenade-like tunes (Chiba's list of influences: "The Who, The Clash, The Stooges and Thee Headcoats"), looking at the glossy jacket, you'd think it was a J-pop album.

"It depends on the individual's taste," says Chiba.

Of course, but what is this flock of birds all about, superimposed above your finely chiseled and well made-up features?

"I don't know," he says. "The designer did it like that. And I like it."

Is being in Thee Michelle Gun Elephant all about music or is there also a desire to be famous or wealthy, too? What's the percentage breakdown?

"We do what we want to do," he says, and then looking a little perturbed and picking up the new album from the table before him, he says: "By the way, do you think the cover is really bad? Our covers used to be like that [points at the skulls and crossbones on the walls]."

Chiba might not be too good at delivering wisecrack-packed interviews -- asked how they came up with "Cult Grass Stars" as an album title, he says, "I'm sorry. It's difficult to answer" -- but he does have one old story up his thin, black sleeve: The band began with a mispronunciation.

"Our first bass player came over to my house and saw The Damned album 'Machine Gun Etiquette,' and he said: 'What the hell is this Michelle Gun Elephant?' When I heard him I laughed and thought, 'Yeah, that's it, that's the name of our band.' "

And, after sobering up, you never regretted the name?

"No."

The bassist was soon fired, but Chiba has said that was because he was "clumsy." And that's a word banned from the TMGE universe: The live shows are as tight as the immaculate mod-yakuza gear the guys are so fond of wearing. That's why they attracted 25,000 kids to a free gig at Yoyogi Park last month, creating one of the fiercest mosh pits in Japan since, well, since they headlined last year at the Fuji Rock Festival.

Japan might have been won, but this looks like just the beginning. Over the last few years TMGE have been making inroads in the U.S. and British markets. Their fourth album, "Gear Blues," was given four out of five stars by Rolling Stone, eight out of 10 by Britain's NME and hailed as "ultra-cool kung-fu garage punk" by Mojo magazine. They played a bunch of shows across America, including New York's legendary CBGBs, and also toured Europe.

"Britain was good," Chiba says. "At first the audience didn't know our music so well, but as we played they got more and more excited and were finally screaming for more. We got a great reception. The promoter over there is telling us to come back, but I feel more comfortable playing in Japan."

Why? Because of the food? Language?

"Well, my family is here, I mean my wife."

That's not a very rock 'n' roll attitude.

He laughs. "Well, if I had a girlfriend in London, I might go there more often."

That's much better, but I hope your wife doesn't read this article.

"Is this article going to be in English?"

Yes.

"That's OK then, my wife isn't going to read it anyway."

There are other hints that TMGE is not quite ready to sell their souls to the mainstream. When asked if there are any rules on tour, Chiba says: "To drink as much beer as possible. It keeps us going. The beer gives us energy night after night."

And is it true that drummer Kazuyuki really is the "Soapland King?"

Chiba doubles up with laughter: "Did Billy [Guitar Wolf's bassist] tell you that?"

No, it was Yuri (54 Nude Honeys singer).

"Yuri!? Hahahaha! Yeah, she's right, but it's only the drummer. As long as his money lasts, he goes there."

While TMGE might be cruising in a different stratosphere of success from their garage-punk peers, they refuse to turn their backs on their humble origins. They might not be driving their own tour bus anymore, but they do still occasionally play tiny live houses. Have they had to adapt their sound to play the big arenas? "Not at all," says Chiba. "We just play as loud as we can all the time."

Last Sunday, after the second of two ear-shattering, mind-blowing sold-out shows at Akasaka Blitz, I was ushered backstage and looking forward to sharing a beer or two with Chiba and the lads.

In the dressing room, Chiba says, "Did you like the show?" I wipe mosh-pit blood and sweat from my eyes. "Kind of," I reply and he laughs.

"I want to introduce you to some people," he says, and I turn, expecting his three beer-cradling cohorts to emerge from the shadows. "This is my father and my mother, and this is my wife," he announces. I cough, splutter a little, but gather myself enough for a flurry of cordial bows. I decide it's best not to hang round in the hope of a beer. But strolling to a nearby bar I think that Chiba's got a firmer grip on his roots than I ever imagined.

Source: Simon Bartz, The Japan Times Online

Subterranean Homesick Blues vs Bob

Subterranean Homesick Blues

Bob Dylan nyer lagu original, kickass lyrics

Bob

"Weird Al" Yankovic nyer parody, lirik die sumer palindrome-ayat yang boleh bace forward/backward..giler creative.

Thee Live

DVD box release from THEE MICHELLE GUN ELEPHANT featuring the band's performances in concerts, events, festivals, TV programs, and more.

1) WORLD STEREO LYNCH TOUR,1997.5.17
2) WORLD CHICKEN ZOMBIES TOUR,1998.2.1
3) WORLD GEAR BLUES TOUR,1999.8.6
4) WORLD CASANOVA SNAKE TOUR,2000.7.26
5) TMGE YOYOGI RIOT!,2001.5.23
6) WORLD RODEO TANDEM BEAT SPECTER TOUR,2001.11.17
7) "WHERE IS SUSIE?" TOUR,2002.10.3
8) WILD WILD SABRINA HEAVEN TOUR,2003.6.14
9) "FUJI ROCK FESTIVAL" SESSIONS
10) "RISING SUN ROCK FESTIVAL" SESSIONS

Price:￥15,487, free shipping, 22% off, tax included

aku try convert ke ringgit malaysia...jap ek..

MYR 714.01

Damnit!
nak beli ke tak..nak beli ka tak..nak beli ke tak..nak beli ke tak..nak beli ke tak..nak beli ke tak..nak beli ke tak..nak beli ke tak..nak beli ka tak..nak beli ka tak..nak beli ke tiak..satu sen lak tu..nak beli ke tak..nak beli ke tak..nak beli ke taik..ade orang nak upload ke?..nak beli ke tak..nak beli ke tak????

Gus Van Sant's The Last Day

"Last Days is a 2005 American drama film directed, produced, and written by Gus Van Sant, and is a fictionalized account of the last days of Nirvana frontman Kurt Cobain. The film stars Michael Pitt as the character Blake, based on Kurt Cobain. Kim Gordon (of Sonic Youth) also star in the film." Wikipedia

Aku ade dvd citer ni, 16 ringgit malaysia nyer pirate . Memang agak teruje giler la mase first jumpe citer ni sebab ni la satu-satunye movie pasal Kurt Cobain yang aku tau. Sekali die art film la plak. Memang takde plot ke hape, dialog minimal gile, ade satu scene tu die fokus kat pokok aje nak 5 minit, memang rase nak cakar je bijik mate aku. Tapi sebab si Blake ni sebijik gile cam Kurt muke ngan sore die, pastu ade 3 lagu band si Michael Pitt(Blake) die taruk yang kalau kau cakap Nirvana punye lost songs pon aku leh percaye(memang kuat gile aura Nirvana die), ngan discovery Michael Pitt nye band The Pagoda... aku rase berbaloi la gak dalam 10 hengget.

The Pagoda-Happy Song

Listen, my new friend, please
And have a sympathetic tender ear
I was born in this junkyard
And it was the prettiest little thing to me
Here’s the part in the song
Where you think of me all wrong
And here’s the part where I choose
That I got nothing left to lose cause...

Any pain that you could bring to me is nothing comparatively
And I’ve been so lost and found, I can’t smile, I can’t frown
Happy song, nothing’s wrong, it’s all fun, am I done?

How much can one man stand?
Before he kisses a cold dead street?
This cross bears a billion lost souls
Three times do I fall to my bloody bare feet?
Think again my lovely friend
Don’t ask for more you dirty whore

Here’s a part in the song where you tell me you don’t care
I made you in my head and you don’t even care, you don’t care
Happy song, nothing’s wrong, it’s all fun and I’m all done
But now I’m done, this is fun, now I’m done

Video ni ade dlm bonus content DVD tu. 1st time aku tengok kat umah aku nye dvd player bapak aku plak datang duduk lepak kat ruang tamu tu. Mule2 aku ingat ok la gak, ntah2 bapak aku dapat hidayah grunge ke hape pas dgr lagu ni. Sekali kuar dancer pompuan naked, tutup niple je ngan cat kale itam. Aku tengah baring. Remote ade atas tv, bapak aku lak 1 meter blakang aku. Gile babi uncomfortable die nye atmosphere.

Aku ingat x manis kalau tengok porn ngan bapak sendiri. Aku amik remote tv, tukar citer Melodi pastu blah masuk bilik, sambil doa bapak aku x karate cd tu..

A Beautiful Disaster

Imagine the look of Chuck Berry the perfectionist when he heard his song being raped to death.

The Sex Pistols

"Johnny B. Goode / Road Runner"

[Paul:] We'll play Johnny B. Goode; he'll sing Through My Eyes.

[Other voice:] (???)

[Paul:] Tell John. Tell him.

[Johnny:] What?

[Paul:] Tell him. He can't hear me in here

[Other Voice:] They wanna play Johnny B. Goode while you sing Through my eyes.

[Johnny:] God! Awright, then.

[Paul:] Ready? Go!

[Johnny:]
If you could see... oh God, fuck off...
Ayanlouisiannayaya New Orleans
Awasabadababyanalittle key
Ayainanananananana Johnny B. Goode
Agogogogogogo Johnny B. Goode
Agogo, go Johnny, gogogogogo
I don't know the words!
Gogogogogogogogogogogyogyuh
Ayayayayastrah yayastrahyayaya
Ayayayayastrah andabanayaya
I wannawannabay, yayayaya
Let's gogo, ago Johnny gogogogo
Agogo, go go go go gogogogogogogogogogogogogogo
Go, Johnny, go, go
Go! Johnny B. Goode
Ayayayayayayayayayayayagwuah
Oh, fuck, it's awful!
Hate songs like that!
The pits!
Eeeeeeyayayayay eeeee!
Eeyeah!
Brrrrrah!
Brrrrrayayayayay!
Uah!
'ey, I know, oi, oi, Steve -- Roadrunner!
Roadrunner!
Roadrun...!
Should we do roadrunner?
'ey, that's fuckin' awful -- stop it.
Stop it; it's fuckin' awful!
Aaah! Torture.
Duh ug duh duh duh duh mah eyah
I donno the words!
I donno'ow it starts; I've forgotten it!
Hold on; stop the segment. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop.
Check out what how it starts. What's the first line?

[Paul:] One, two, three, four, five, six!

[Johnny:] Alright, can you start at the beginning, then?

[Paul:] Roadrunner, roadrunner, It's not 'ard!

[Johnny:] I can't hear you, Paul.

[Paul:] Roadrunner, roadrunner, go...

[Johnny:]
Going thousand miles an hour
Euhlalalalala
Awith the radio on
Aroadrunner, roadrunner
Aeuhmuh thousand miles an hour
Oh, God, I don't know it...
I drove past the Stop 'n' Shop
And I wah by the Stop 'n' Shop
An' I flarala wahbah Stop Shop
Have the radio on
Have touch with the modern world
I fell in love with the modern world
Fell in love with (???)
Have the radio on
Roadrunner, roadrunner
Agoin' thousand miles an hour
Felt in touch with with modern world
In love with the modern world
Alright, here we go now
Goin' twenty-eight watta power
It's all cold here in the dark
Fifty thousand watts of power
Agoin' thousand miles an hour
Awith the radio on
Roadrunner, roadrunner
Oh, God, I don't know it
It's fucking ridiculous
Wish I had the words...
Roadrunner, roadrunner
Agoin' thousand miles an hour
I felt in touch with the modern world
I fell in love with the modern world
Rockin' modern lover, modern sound, ana mosaround
Modern rockin' runner around, mosaround rockin' modern runner in touch
An' a radio on
I got radio on
A roadrunner, roadrunner
Oh yeah er ah ee ah eh uh
Do we know any other fuckin' people's songs?
'Ey? Brrrrrrr!
'Ey? Do we know an...
'Ey? Do we know any other fucking songs that we can do?
Do we know any other songs that we can do? I can't think of any.

The Godfather

Seriously the greatest triad movie mankind ever produced. Originally written by Mario Puzo, the film was directed by Francis Ford Coppola with the screenplay by Puzo, Coppola and Robert Towne.

1st generation: Don Vito 'Godfather' Andolini Corleone


"I'm gonna make him an offer he couldn't refuse."


Born: Sept. 7, 1891-Corleone, Sicily, Italy
Died:Aug. 16, 1955 (aged 63)-Little Italy, New York, USA
Cause of death: Heart attack.
Title: Godfather,Capo di tutti cappi(Boss of all bosses)
Portrayed by: Marlon Brando(Part I), Robert de Niro(Part II)

Vito has four children: Santino 'Sonny' Corleone, Frederico 'Freddy' Corleone, Michael 'Mikey' Corleone, and Constanzia 'Connie' Corleone. He also has an informally adopted son, Tom Hagen, who became the Corleones' Consigliere( Family Advisor).

Old Don Corleone played by Marlon Brando in Part I.

Young Vito Corleone played by Robert de Niro in Part II.


2nd generation: Don Michael Corleone

"Never hate your enemies. It affects your judgment"

Born: Oct. 15 1920, New York City, New York, USA
Died: September 25, 1997 (aged 76) , Corleone, Sicily, Italy
Cause of death: Stroke
Title: Godfather,Capo di tutti cappi(Boss of all bosses)
Portrayed by Al Pacino

Father of two children Anthony Corleone and Mary Corleone. Supposed to have a second son but
his wife Kay Adams had an abortion because she does not want to bring another one of his children into the world. Enraged, Michael strikes Kay and banishes her from the family. He was a former marine and a decorated war hero before he was forced to take care of his family business to protect his family.

Young Michael Corleone first involvement in his family business.



Formal ascension to Don Corleone



At the height of his power. Trying to make his family legitimate.



A failed assassination attempt for the retired Don's life, ended up killing his daughter Mary.

The great Don's final moment, distraught and alone.

3rd generation: Vincent Mancini, Don Vincenzo Corleone

"I want...the power to preserve the Family...I'm asking for the order."

Michael Corleone's nephew, illegitimate son of Sonny Corleone and Lucy Mancini. The new Don is supposed to be the main character in the fourth installation of The Godfather in which Vincent would change the Corleone Family into a drug cartel, and soon to his death. It was also said that he married Grace Hamilton and had a boy named after the late Vito Corleone. It would also include flashbacks with Vito once again played by Robert de Niro. The flashbacks will show the early years of Vito as Don. However due to the death of Mario Puzo in 1999, the movie will not happen.This film has was supposed to take place from 1997-2005 and the flashbacks from 1926-1939.

Born: July 3 1949, USA
Portrayed by Andy Garcia

Don Vincenzo Corleone rise to power.

The Corleones

Junk Fact

Personal useless record no. xxxx

Finish reading the whole manga Freesia by Jiro Matsumoto, chapter 1-80 in one sitting. Started reading somewhere between 4-5 pm, ended 6 am the day after so its straight 9 to 10 hours give or take.

I don't know what happened, I just lost the sense of time..my whole brain functions seem focused on one thing. My imagination was forcefully sucked and left adrift in the merciless world of Freesia. Its like being in a great nightmare. And after a first hour or so, I learned the most important rule to survive in this world-never get your hope up for anything. This manga will kill any of your expectations and spit on all boundaries of normal, casual manga.

Super not recommended for Naruto/Bleach worshipers. You're gonna cry for your momma, I swear.

Crass: There is No Authority but Yourself

"There is no authority but yourself"<--Online streaming on minimovies.org

Documentary directed by Alexander Oey. The title of the film is derived from the final lines of the Crass album 'Yes Sir,I Will';

"You must learn to live with your own conscience, your own morality, your own decision, your own self. You alone can do it. There is no authority but yourself."

Crass Final Statement.

When, in 1976, punk first spewed itself across the nation's headlines with the message 'do it yourself', we, who in various ways and for many years had been doing just that, naively believed that Messrs. Rotten, Strummer etc. etc. meant it. At last we weren't alone.

The idea of becoming a band had never seriously occurred to us, it simply happened. Basically anyone was free to join in and rehearsals were rowdy affairs that invariably degraded into little more than drunken parties. Steve and Penny had been writing and playing together since early '77, but it wasn't until Summer of that year that we had begged, borrowed and stolen enough equipment to actually call ourselver a band....CRASS.

Having finally managed to rehearse five songs, we set out on the road to fame and fortune armed with our instruments and huge amounts of booze to help us see it through. We did gigs and benefits, chaotic demonstrations of inadequacy and independence. We got turned off here, turned down there and banned from the now legendary Roxy Club. 'They said they only wanted well behaved boys, do they think guitars and microphones are just fucking toys?'

By now we had realised that our fellow punks, The Pistols, The Clash and all the other muso-puppets weren't doing it at all. They may like to think that they ripped off the majors, but it was Joe Public who'd been ripped. They helped no one but themselves, started another facile fashion, brought a new lease of life to London's trendy Kings Road and claimed they'd started a revolution. Same old story. We were on our own again.

Through the alchoholic haze we determined to make it our mission to create a real alternative to musie biz exploitation, we wanted to offer something that gave rather than took and, above all, we wanted to make it survive. Too many promises have been made from stages only to be forgotten on the streets.

Throughout the long, lonely winter of 77/78 we played regular gigs at The White Lion, Putney with the UK Subs. The audience consisted mostly of us when the Subs played and the Subs when we played. Sometimes it was disheartening, but usually it was fun. Charley Harper's indefatigable enthusiasm was always an inspiration when times got bleak, his absolute belief in punk as a peoples' music had more to do with revolution than McClaren and his cronies could ever have dreamt of. Through sheer tenacity we were exposing the punk charlatans for what they really were, a music-biz hype.

Our gigs remained wild and disorderly, we were still too scared to play without a belly full of booze and invariably we were in such a state that we'd realise half way through a song that each of us was playing a different one. For all the chaos it was immense fun, no one bitched about leather boots or moaned about milk in tea, no one wanted to know how anarchy and peace could be reconciled, no one bored our arses off with protracted monologues on Bakunin, who at that time we probably would have thought was a brand of vodka. Ideas were open, we were creating our own lives together. These were the glorious years before the free alternatives that we were creating became just another set of bigoted rules, before what we were defining as real punk became yet another squalid ghetto. We even played a Rock Against Racism gig, the only gig that we'd ever been paid for. When we told the man to keep the money for the cause, he informed us that 'this was the cause'. We never played for RAR again.

As the charlatans increasingly headed Stateside, to get a sniff of that which refreshed them best, we became hardened by the isolation. We determined to stop fucking about with booze and to start taking ourselves that much more seriously. We adopted black clothing as a protest against the narcissistic peacockery of fashion punks. We started incorporating film and-video into our set. We went into production of handout sheets to explain our ideas and a newspaper, International Anthem. We designed the banner that hung behind us to the end, and we committed ourselves to see it through at least until the end of the then mythical 1984.

Later in the Summer of '78, Pete Stennet, owner of the much missed Small Wonder Records, heard one of our demo tapes and loved it. He wanted to put out a single but couldn't decide on which track, so we recorded all the songs we'd written and made the first ever multitracked 45. We named the album The Feeding Of The Five Thousand because 5000 was the minimum number that we could get pressed and some 4900 more than we thought we'd sell. Feeding is now only a few hundred short of going golden, though I don't suppose we'll hear too much about that in the music press.

So, with our entire stage set on record, wrapped in what was then highly innovative black and white, the music press were able to commence on the barrage of attack that has followed us throughout the years. They hated it and us and their loathing positively overflowed. It is not grandiose to claim that we have been one of the most influential bands in the history of British rock, true we have not greatly influenced music itself, but our effect on broader social issues has been enormous. From the start the media has attempted to ignore us and only when its hand has been forced by circumstances has it grudgingly given us credence. It's all fairly simple, if you don't play their game, that is commercial exploitation, they won't play yours. The music bit doesn't just buy its groups, it pays for the music press as well. The charlatans were spread thicker and deeper than we could ever have imagined.

Nonetheless, realising that we were a threat to its control, the first offers started coming in from the enemy. Mr. Big tried to buy us with cheap wine and an offer of 50000 pounds if; we'd join 'Pursey's Package'. He also informed us that he could 'market revolution' and that we'd never succeed without his help. It was the first of many offers that we refused, we never looked back and, incidentally, we didn't hear too much more of Jimmy Pursey.

When Feeding came out in the Spring of '79, the first track had been silent and named The Sound Of Free Speech. The pressing plant had decided that the track that had been there, Asylum, was too blasphemous for their, and your, tastes. Such is the true face of censorship in the 'Free World'.

Eventually we found a pressing plant willing to deal with Asylum, so we re-recorded it along with Shaved Women, printed the covers at home, sold it for 45p, and totally broke ourselves.

On its release, the Reality Asylum single ran into immediate troubles. Complaints from the 'general public' led to police raids on shops throughout the country and a visit to us from Scotland Yard's vice-squad. After a pleasant afternoon sharing tea with our guardians of public morality, we were left with the threat of prosecution that hung over us for the next year. Eventually we received a note informing us that we were free, but that we'd better not try it again. The nature of our 'freedom' made doing it again inevitable and so the endless roundabout of police harassment set itself in motion; it has continued to this day.

It was around this time that we did our one and only radio session for John Peel. From then on our growing reputation as foul mouthed yobs precluded us from being given airplay, although we did appear on several chat-shows which led to us being temporarily blacklisted by the BBC. Apparently, expressing dissident views on the Falklands is not acceptable to the listening public who jammed the BBC switchboard with complaints.

To offset claims in the press that we were nothing but leftist/rightist thugs, they never could quite make us out, we started to hang an anarchist banner alongside our own. At that time the circled-A was rarely seen outside the confines of established and generally tedious, small-time anarchist literature. Within months the symbol was to be seen decorating leather jackets, badges, and walls throughout the country, within a few years it spread worldwide. Rotten may have proclaimed himself an anarchist, but it was us who almost single-handedly created anarchy as a popular movement for millions of people.

At the same time, having discovered that CND did actually still exist, albeit in a downtrodden, self-effacing manner, we decided to promote its cause, something that at the time CND seemed to be incapable of doing for itself. From then on, despite screams of derision in the music press, we also displayed the peace symbol at gigs.

Our efforts on the road slowly brought CND back to life. We introduced it to the thousands of people who would become the backbone of its revival. A new and hitherto uninformed sector of society was being exposed to a form of radical thought that culminated in the great rallies, demos and actions that continue today.

The true effect of our work is not to be found within the confines of rock'n'roll, but in the radicaiised minds of thousands of people throughout the world. From the Gates of Greenham to the Berlin Wall, from the Stop The City actions to underground gigs in Poland, our particular brand of anarcho-pacifism, now almost synonymous with punk, has made itself known.

Since early '77 we had been involved in maintaining a graffiti war throughout Central London. Our stencilled messages, anything from 'Fight War Not Wars' to 'Stuff Your Sexist Shit', were the first of their kind to appear in the UK and inspired a whole movement that, sadly, has now been eclipsed by hip-hop artists who have done little but confirm the insidious nature of American culture.

To celebrate our success with the spraycan, we decided to call our next album Stations Of The Crass, the cover of which was a photo of some of our work on one of London Underground's stations. Stations featured the first ever six-fold wrapper and came with a sew-on patch that we printed at home.

By now, Pete of Small Wonder was beginning to tire of the kind of police attention that we were drawing to his shop, so we borrowed the money to release Stations ourselves. It sold so well that after only a very short time we were able to pay back the loan and get the covers folded by machine rather than doing them at home by hand.

Stations continued to sell and soon we were able to consider releasing material by other bands. Crass Records was created and we kicked off with a single from Zounds [actually, Penny, Donna & The Kebabs was first...jb], the first of well over one hundred bands that we have introduced to the unsuspecting public.

In the Spring of 1980, having played several benefit gigs for the defence fund of the jailed anarchists, known paradoxically as 'Persons Unknown', we were asked by them on their release if we could contribute to the creation of an Anarchist Centre. We recorded Bloody Revolutions, with Poison Girls' Persons Unknown on the reverse side and the centre was opened on the proceeds. For over a year an unhappy liason existed between the old school anarchists of Persons Unknown and the anarcho-punks. Eventually the ideological pressure got too great and the centre closed.

The relative ease with which we were able to raise money for the center demonstrated to us the enormous power that we had to generate not only ideas, but the wherewithall to make them possible. By now we were drawing large crowds to our gigs so we decided that the best use to which we could put the situation was to play nothing but benefits. Over the years we were able to create funds for a wide variety of different causes.

It now seemed time to launch a feminist attack. For some time we had been aware that we were being labelled as a bother band and that the feminist element within our work was largely ignored. We released Penis Envy and the music press, missing the point entirely, heralded it as having been made by "the only feminists physically attractive enough to make you sure they're singing out of choice rather than revenge". What do you do with these guys? The reaction from many Crass 'fans' expressed similar prejudices, but from an entirely different angle. They wanted to know why we'd only got 'birds singing'. The devil or the deep blue sea?

The final track on Penis Envy entitled Our Wedding, a satire on slush MOR romantic bullshit, was offered by 'Creative Recording And Sound Services' to Loving, a magazine specialsing in the exploitation of teenage loneliness. Loving proudly offered it to their readers as 'a must for that happy day'. When the hoax was exposed, Fleet Street rocked, while heads at Loving rolled.

The release of Penis Envy confirmed a suspicion that we had had for some time. After one week in the shops it entered the national charts at number fifteen, next week it wasn't to be found anywhere in the top one hundred. The same fate had befallen Nagasaki Nightmare, we knew that it just wasn't possible to be that high in the charts one week and nowhere to be found the next. It seemed obvious to us that if the major labels paid to get their records 'in' the charts, they'd pay to get ours 'out'. We knew that we were disliked by EMI, they'd sent out a circular to their A&R departments forbidding all contact with 'Crass personnel' and their HMV shops have not touched any of our material since they took exception to the poster on Bloody Revolutions.

For some time now we had been touring far and wide throughout the UK, bravely treading where no band had trod before. Village halls, scout huts, community centers, anywhere that was neither the rip-off clubs or the pampered university circuit. Hundreds of people would travel to join us in unlikely spots to celebrate our mutual sense of freedom. We shared our music, films, literature, conversation, food and tea. Wherever we went we were met by smiling faces, ready and willing to create an alternative to the drab greyness all around.

It was not always easy, there were always those who wanted to destroy what we had created. We tried to play the Stonehenge Festival but got beaten up by the bikers; we had gigs smashed up by the National Front and the SWP; we played host to the RUC in Belfast, sent the British Movement packing in Reading and got thrashed by the Red Brigade in London. There was a lot of trouble, but it never outweighed the joy.

Throughout 1981 we were recording Christ-The Album, which by the Summer of '82 was ready to release. This time, however, the trouble did outweigh the joy. 'Great Britain' had gone to war.

Insignificant events on an island called South Georgia, which no one had ever heard of, led to significant events on an island called the Falklands which no one had ever heard of. The first pin-prick had been placed in the anarcho-pacifist bubble, a pin-prick that would in the space of a few months tear the bubble to shreds. As young men died by the hundreds, our songs, protests and marches, our leaflets, words and ideas suddenly seemed to be worthless. In reality we knew that what we had to offer had value, that what we believed in was worthwhile, but for the moment it all semed futile.

Thatcher wanted war to boost her party's flagging pre-election image. If she wanted war, she'd have it, along with anything else that took her fancy. Cruise, Pershing, PWR's, Unions, Dennis.

At risk of being seen as the 'traitors' that we are, through devious routes we rushed out an anti-Falklands War flexi and were instantly labelled 'traitors' by the music press. We also received a severe warning from the House of Commons to 'watch our step'. Protest against the War seemed to be virtually non-existent and criticism in the press was being supressed. When the issues had been abstract, the Peace Movement had been all too happy to shout 'No more war', now there was a war to shout about, the silence was painful.

However it wasn't until the war had ended and we released How Does It Feel To Be The Mother Of A Thousand Dead? that the shit really hit the fan. After Thatcher had been asked in the House of Commons whether she had listened to the record, it was inevitable that she and her party would want to punish us. Tory MP Tim Eggar had the hapless task of fronting prosecution proceedings and right from the start couldn't put a foot right. The case crumbled completely when Eggar was exposed by us on live radio as a complete fool. The Tories backed down immediately after his miserable performance and even went to the trouble of circulating a note in which members of the Party were ordered to ignore all provocation from our quarter. Suddenly we started receiving letters of support from members of the 'Opposition'. Maybe we weren't on our own. Fall guys or what!

We found ourselves in a strange and frightening arena. We had wanted to make our views public, had wanted to share them with like-minded people, but now those views were being analysed by those dark shadows who inhabited the corridors of power. Eggar had created a great deal of publicity for our cause and the press had lapped it up, especially those who, literally at gun point, had been prevented from gaining any real information on the war. It was as if we'd hooked a whale while fishing for minnows. We didn't know whether to let go of the rod, or keep pulling until we exhausted ourselves, which we knew, inevitabiy, we would.

The speed with which the Falklands War was played out and the devastation that Thatcher was creating both at home and abroad, forced us to respond far faster than we had ever needed to before. Christ-The Album had taken so long to produce that some of the songs in it, songs that warned of the imminence of riots and war, had become almost redundant. Toxteth, Bristol, Brixton and the Falklands were ablaze by the time that we released. We felt embarrassed by our slowness, humbled by our inadequacy. At the end of '82, aware that the 'movement' needed a morale booster, we organised the first squat gig for decades at the now defunct Zig Zag Club in London. Along with free food and copious supplies of ripped-off booze, we celebrated our independence once again, this time joined by twenty other bands, the cream of what could truly be called 'real punk'. Together we supplied a twenty-four hour blast of energy which inspired similar actions throughout the world. We'd learnt the lesson. 'Do it yourself' has never seemed so real as it did that day at the Zig Zag.

In many respects the Zig Zag consolidated our thinking, the job was by no means over. So, deciding that we should hang onto the rod and fight the whale, we launched an all out attack on Thatcher and her allies. The run up to the '83 Elections had started, the 'Opposition' had all but collapsed. Labour had made the inevitable, revolting turnabout on its anti-nuclear stance and the Peace Movement was in tatters, muted by its own fears.

The album Yes Sir, I Will was our first 'tactical response', it was an impassioned scream directed towards the wielders of power and those who passively accept them as an authority. The message in the record was loud and clear, 'There is no authority but yourself'.

As our political position became increasingly polarised, we felt it necessary to define our motives in a clearer fashion than perhaps we had done before. The what, where and why of our anger needed explaining, as did our idea of 'self'. We had often been accused of sloganeering, now was the time to come out into the open. Several members of the band produced Acts Of Love, fifty poems in lyricai settings, in an attempt to demonstrate that the source of our anger was love rather than hate and that our idea of self was nor that of an egocentric social bigot, but of an internal sense of one's own being. The ambiguity of our attitudes was beginning to disturb us. Was it really possible to have a bloodless revolution? Were we being truly realistic? Were we being destroyed by our own paradoxes?

It was at this time that we sent the now infamous 'Thatchergate Tapes' to the world's press. The highly edited tape, which took the form of a telephone conversation between Reagan and Thatcher, had her admitting responsibility for the sinking of the Belgrano, an issue which at that time she had not been confronted with, and implying knowledge of the Invincible's decision to 'guinea-pig' the Sheffield, a fact that still has not come to light. So as to leave no stone unturned. we caused Reagan to threaten to 'nuke' Europe in defence of American heritage, a hypothesis which is probably not as wild as it seems.

The tape lay dormant for almost a year before surfacing in the State Department in Washington DC. The categorical denials that were issued in relationship to the tape and its contents acted as a clear indication that the methods that we had employed to discredit Thatcher and Reagan were in no way dissimilar to those of The State Department. Why else would they have taken our somewhat amateurish efforts at tape forgery so seriously? Inevitably, they waved the accusatory finger in the direction of the Kremlin. Shortly after that, several papers in America, and The Sunday Times in Britain, ran the story as proof of KGB 'foul-play'. It was the first time that the press had run any story that, albeit in a roundabout fashion, questioned Thatcher's integrity concerning the Belgrano. We were overcome with a mixture of fear and elation, should we or should we not expose the hoax?

Our indecision was resolved when a journalist from The Observer contacted us in relation to 'a certain tape'. At first we denied knowledge, but eventually decided to admit responsibility. We had been meticulously careful in the production and distribution of the tape to ensure that no one knew about our involvement. How The Observer got hold of information that led to us is a complete mystery. It acted as a substantial warning, if walls did indeed have ears, how much more was known of our activities?

Since the graffiti days of '77 we had been involved in various forms of action, from spraying to wire cutting, sabotage and subterfuge. We had been concerned that if we went public on the tape all manner of other 'offences' might bubble to the surface. Now we had exposed ourselves to that risk and the telephone started to ring.

The world's media pounced on the story, thrilled that a 'bunch of punks' had made such idiots of The State Department, and 'by the way, what else had we done/' Throughout the years as a band we had never attracted such attention, the telephone rang incessantly, we travelled here and there to do interviews, all of a sudden we were 'media stars'. We were interviewed by the Russian press as American TV cameras recorded the event, we were live on American breakfast TV, we talked to radio stations from Essex to Tokyo, always giving the anarchist angle on every question. We had gained a form of political power, found a voice, were being treated with a slightly awed respect, but was that really what we wanted? Was that what we had set out to achieve all those years ago?

After seven years on the road we had become the very thing that we were attacking. We had found a platform for our ideas, but somewhere along the line had lost our insight. Where once we had been generous and outgoing, we had now become cynical and inward. Our activities had always been coloured with a lightness and humour, now we saw that we had been increasingly drawn towards darkness and an often ill-conceived militancy. We had become bitter where once we had been joyful, pessimistic where once optimism had been our cause. Throughout those seven years we had attracted almost constant direct and indirect State harassment, now, inevitably, they struck again.

1984 had arrived, rather worse than Orwell had predicted. Unemployment, homelessness, poverty, hunger. The police state had become a reality, as the miners were going to discover. 'Accidental' death from Thatcher's private army of boys in blue had become an acceptable norm. The balance of a whole society was hanging on the apron strings of a vicious and uncaring despot. Far less important by far was our own fate. We were hauled into the courts to face an obscenity charge that almost broke us. 'We have ways of making you not talk'.

That summer we played what was to be our last gig together, a riotous benefit for the South Wales miners. From the stage we vowed to continue working for the cause of freedom, yet, as we drove home, we all knew that the particular path that we had been taking had been exhausted. We needed new ways in which to approach our objectives and, a few weeks after the gig, Hari Nana left the band to seek his. We felt no compulsion to continue gigging. We were no longer convinced that by simply providing what had broadly become entertainment we were having any real effect. We'd made our point and if after seven years people hadn't taken it, it surely wasn't because we hadn't tried hard enough.

'There is no authority but yourself', we said that, but we'd lost ourselves and become CRASS. We are still involved in the often painful process of refinding that self, of seeing each other again, of healing ourselves from the self-inflicted wounds of 'public life'. The 'movement', from Class War to Christians For Peace, needs to regain the dignity that it has lost in the process of attempting to confront problems that appear to be created by others. We have all been guilty of defining the enemy, and indeed there are those who would obstruct the course of liberty, yet ultimately the enemy is to be found within. There is no them and us, there is only you and me. We need to consolidate, reassess, reject what patently does not work and be prepared to adopt ideas and attitudes that might. We need to find the 'self' that can truly be the authority that it is. We need to look beyond the barbed-wire and the ranks of police for a vision of life which is of our choosing, not that which is dictated by cynics and despots. The exponent of Karate does not aim at the brick when wishing to break it, but at the space beyond. We would do well to learn from that example.

We have spent too much of our time, energy and spirit attempting to dispell the shadow of evil cast over us by the violence and terror of the nuclear age. That shadow has become a stain on our hearts. It is time to wash away that stain and to step out of the shadow into the light. We have become trapped in fear outside metaphorical Greenham Gates. 'Knock and ye shalt enter. . .the kingdom of heaven is within you.'

We know enough of the sickness of the world, we should be careful not to add to it through our own physical and mental exhaustion and ill health. If we are ever to achieve our shared objectives we must each of us be strong enough to do so. We have all failed and we have all succeeded. This is no tail between the leg ending, but a proud, albeit painful and confused, beginning.

Love, peace and freedom,
what was CRASS, but now knows better.

copy and pasted from Southern recods website, view original content.

Wikipedia-
"Crass were an English punk band , formed in 1977,which promoted anarchism as a political ideology, way of living, and as a resistance movement. Crass popularized the seminal anarcho-punk movement of the punk subculture, and advocated direct action, animal rights, and environmentalism. The band both utilised and advocated a "Do It Yourself" approach, producing sound collages, graphics, albums and films. Crass also criticized and attempted to subvert the dominant culture with messages promoting feminism, anti-racism, anti-war, and anti-globalisation."

Crass-Big Man, Big " am i an"

They're telling you to do it,
Grow up and tow the line,
They tell you if you do it,
Everything will turn out fine.
Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes, what a wonderful life,
God, queen, country, colour telly, car and wife.
Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes, what a wonderful life,
God, queen, country, colour telly, car and wife.
It's great if you can do it, it doesn't take a lot,
Just means you must destroy what sensitivity you've got.
Well, that's an easy bargain for the things you're going to get,
You can treat the wife like shit, own a car, a telly set.
Slip off in the evenings for a little on the sly,
And if the wife complains, fuck her first, then black her eye.
There's lots of worthwhile jobs for the lad who wants to know,
Lorry driving's fun, you're always on the go.
One hand on the wheel, the other up some cunt,
Or jerking off to Penthouse with with motorway up front.
The police force offers chances for a bright intelligent lad,
To interfere with anyone cos they're there just to be had.
It offers quite a range for aggression and for spite,
To take out your frustrations in a justifiable light.
It's a mans' life in the army, good pay and lots of fun,
You can stab them with your bayonet, fuck them with your gun.
Look smart in your uniform, that always pulls the skirt,
Then when you've fucked them good and proper, tell them they're just dirt.

Cos man is spelt big M.A.N. it's the letters of the law.
Man is spelt big M.A.N. that's who the law is for.

You see there's lots of chances in this land of hope and glory,
Try and make your own rules, that's a different story.
If you're a man, you'd better act like one,
Develope your muscles, use your prick like a gun.
Fuck anything that moves, but never pay the price,
Steal, fuck, slaughter, that's their advice.
Are you man enough? Ask the posters on the walls,
Have you got what it takes? Guts and balls?
Keep your myth of manhood, it's been going on too long,
A history of slaughter is the proof that it is wrong.

Big man, big M.A.N. Big man, big M.A.N. Big man, big M.A.N.
Big man, big M.A.N. Big man, big M.A.N. Big man, big M.A.N.
Big man, big M.A.N. Big man, big M.A.N. Big man, big M.A.N.
Big man, big M.A.N. Big man, big M.A.N. Big man, big M.A.N.
Big man, big M.A.N. Big man, big M.A.N.
Big man, J.O.K.E.
Big man, what a fucking joke.

Among celebrities caught sporting Crass t-shirt, probably cost hundreds of dollars. Drummer Penny Rimbaud once told in an interview that he wrote to David Beckham who had been sporting a diamond studded Crass t-shirts, asking for a donation for the Dial House commune which in the middle of money crisis. Rest asured, he got no reply.

Untitled

Tom Waits-Blue Valentine(1978)

Aku rase sampai aku mati pon music scene Malaysia xkan sampai literature maturity cam ni..okay maybe kite ade Kopratasa ngan Ramli Sarip tapi artis mane yg org kite sibuk junjung? Artis yg hanya tau bukak mulut, goyang tetek dan nyanyi lagu yg selang dua ayat sebut perkataan 'cinta'.

What the fuck is the point in that? Music is supposed to be an art, and you fucks turned it to a goddamn product!

"Ok. Target kite pas ni international audience, world!!" Okay....now please slowly get your head out of your ass and fucking smell reality dude. Orang luar xkan nak susah2 amik dictionary nak tranlate lagu2 leleh kite. Kalau ade pon mesti kechiwa dgn literature tahap darjah tiga, fucking not worth the effort. Antara aspek musik yg boleh crush language barrier aku rase is the music itself. The rhythm, the beat, the melody. Tapi nila aspek yg paling lemah lagu org Melayu(pernah dengar band melayu buat instrumental dlm radio? pernah dengar musik instrumental dlm radio?). Smua lagu2 berat kt lirik je. Lirik yg ntah hape-hape.

Kesimpulan aku: selagi dalam scene musik Malaysia nisbah 'artis' melampaui seniman, nisbah penggoyang tetek melampaui pendakap gitar dan org still pijak seni nak gagau duit...kite xkan ke mane.

Come on Malaysia!
Prove me wrong.


Notakaki- diner mlm tadi gi Beranang Cafe. Naik Kancil Su(punye kakak). Nikmat kancil ni pon tahan sebulan je, so kene la gune sebaik mungkin. Kang org cakap kufur nikmat xbest lak kan. Tuhan pun murka. So on the way pasang la radio fm apetah..kuar lak lagu satu bitch ni. Lagu baru tgh hot kot. Ade sorg homosapien nie kuar la satu tekateki dgn banggenye"Ni lagu ape wey?Sape nyanyi?". Laju je bdk lain jawab.

Aku turbo mencarut dlm hati.
Org tak dgr tak dose kan?
Dlm otak dah melayang lutut ong bak aku
Straight kat usus besar minah tu.

Greenskin Biker Boyz...WAAARRRGGHHH!!!