Korean at his savagest
This vid would be registered as your fav youtube of all time, depending on your moral sense.
The yakuza dude may not speak korean properly since he is a japan-bred of our ilk. See how sensational it can be if Japan and Korea collaborate underhandedly.
“On March 12 1995 the Japanese doomsday cult Aum Supreme Truth released poisonous gas on the Tokyo Subway system, killing and injuring many people. Subsequent raids on their facilities uncovered stockpiles of chemical weapons and firearms.
On April 23 1995, as Hideo Murai, the leader of Aum Supreme Truth’s Ministry of Science was entering the cult’s headquarters, Hiroyuki Jyo, a South Korean national and initiated Yakuza of the Yamaguchi Family stabbed and killed Mr. Murai. Mr. Jyo did not resist arrest, and peacefully stayed at the scene until he was arraigned after the ensuing confusion. The police stated that they could tell Mr. Jyo was a professional, as the knife was aimed at precisely at his vital organs, and the knife was twisted in a way that guaranteed maximum amount of blood to be lost in the shortest possible time.
Later, it was confirmed that Hideo Murai was the man responsible for producing the poisonous sarin gas, and the cult had plans to reduce the city of Tokyo to 1/10th of it’s current population, in their own words.
On a comical note, the delusional Aum Supreme Truth immediately stated that the Jews were responsible for the death of Murai.”
The dearest star-in-eclipse Mischa Barton was at one time a prostitute.
But don’t excite your wiener yet, prostitution fulfills a moonlighting only within the boundaries of her sinking actress career.
Chain Gang –Prostitute
An invigorating slice that evokes grime-haunted New York City, in the manner of roaming elatedly around its dim back alleys where all the tawdry stigmas bloom into a dazzling jubilance by the vile breath of a lost soul. The sublimation of squalid truth, the secular gain full strength to penetrate the celestial grace and eventually colonize the holy place once and for all.
Hold it, you sing “We’re all prostitutes”, but what about our children? Do you think they can handle it?
Chain Gang – Perfumed (1993, Matador)
You can read their Forced Exposure interview on Matador site.
from Forced Exposure #13, Winter 1998
Regardless of the fact that you’ve probably never heard ’em, Chain Gang have been an operational underground unit in New York for over a decade. As such, they should be held in esteem as contemporaries of the Ramones, Heartbreakers and Manster. That they are not viewed thusly (or even as the forefathers of Teenage Jesus, Mars, Sonic Youth, et al.) is mute testament to mass stupidity. Their records have been consistent ear-cork, their live shows are legendary, but most people still remain pathetically unaware of their existence. In order to make their presence known to a few more hepsters, we offer this interview with the band’s lead singer, Ricky “Don’t Call Me Ricky” Luanda. It was conducted in July ’87 at a bar called Brewski’s, New York City.
To be continued on here http://www.matadorrecords.com/chain_gang/forced_exposure.html
Would I switch “hepster” with “hipster?”
They looked really, really, really cool and They don’t look this cool now but Their homepage does; http://www.utmusic.net
I thought White Hills are rather bland and slick but it might be ascribed more to my jaundiced eye darting the label (you know, Thrill Jockey is such a posh cohort, like the record industry equivalent of agnès b. Not to mention I hate post-rock. Well, possibly it has more to do with my non-sedatable aversion towards those PC ugly korean plonkers who ludicrously believe Tortoise and Jim O’ rourke – hey creep, don’t call this autistic bore-monger “Jim O'”, are the culmination of modern music, who traumatized me forever) than their sounds in themselves.
This album proves to me White Hills are menacing as fuck as a pack of starving wolves and the pacemaker of transportive psychedelia. And I just have been listening to the first track of the trinity. I don’t quite seem to go past it for I am being sucked into the quicksand of debauched Space Ritual once beckoned and it’s becoming the act of my will over time. The best jammer I am happy to efface myself within in quite some time (No overdubs?, really?). I should sue them for my warped sense of time before they sue me for the free ride.
White Hills – Drift Away