f-word

...f-word, early arrivers on th'LA punk scene back in '77'n th'first to get a long play wax out to th'populace, a cool way for them to kick off, its a live offerin' taped at th'mabuhay gardens(fab mab) showin' rick l.rick/dim wanker/dutch shultz/steve effete crashin' their way through a heavy blast o' newly formin' spikey punk rock, stripped down speedy metal, grounded in th'likes o' th'iggy/james williamson combination, like what radio birdman sounded like in '76, th'amphetamine mid70s garage beat from th'inner suburbs o' differin' major locales across th'rocknroll-planet...thrashin' mangled spazz rock poundin' its way into existance, th'first tune(after a great intro by club owner/promoter dirk dirkson where he has friendy banter with poshboy, f-words english manager, dig it...)exhalts th'onlookers to'do th'nihil', f-words anti-dance they no doubt had high hopes o' seein' come to fruition, but th'manifestation o' such ideas only become corporate'n end up as th'retarded mosh pit o' identikit pop-punk thirty years later...showin' their'dedication'to nihilism they treat th'then paranoid-freaky hillside strangler(LApunx own charlie manson for a few months) to an ode, followed by more thrashin'n then a NYdolls cover(bad girl)which they do real well, a basement spillage o' overdosed rockin'...ever more rowdy rockin' comes on over th'next few tunes...it all ends with th'germs'shut down'n stooges'no fun'with some inbetween audience participation, just like a 69 stooges gig only more friendly...every thing a layabout needs for a buzzed afternoons rockin', wonderful mind travel to when there was fresh hope in th'rockroll universe, when th'backrooms/cellars o' dank'n dirty buildin's provided cats with a refuge from th'blahs, a hideout from th'square world, bohemia with blastin' ampage, warm beer'n a spliff to get on through to th'other side...