"And Wendy's stealing clothes from marks & sparks
And Freddy's got spots from ripping off the stars
from his face... funky little boat race."
David Bowie.
david bowie: just watch me now.
ian hunter, from barber's chair to a window seat on death row.
"Keeping the thread running from yesterday, Mott The Hoople's massive 1972 hit was of course written and produced by David Bowie. With its viscerally accurate portrayal of juvenile delinquency like tv photo-montage, all that was required to catapult his "Alladin Sane" session demo - custom fit for the Hoople - into instant home brewed classic was the trademark insouciance of Mott's Ian Hunter and the rest of his commercially neglected crew.
Bowie, of course, had been famously booed off the stage in 1969 by an audience of recently evolved skinheads who took umbrage with the former mod's bubble-perm and latest installment of suspiciously hippie oriented lyrics. By 1972, skinhead subculture had percolated into every urban shopping centre throughout the UK, but - diluted through populist recruitment - the kids who flocked to shave their heads and don a pair of oversized Doc Marten's were more interested in Glam Pop than Jamaican Ska and Rude Boy front. The anthemic lyrics and bombast of "All The Young Dudes" summed up the adopted fashion mantra perfectly. Suedeheads in duffel coats queued up in Woolworths to get themselves a copy. All the girls plucked their eyebrows out of existence, and looked more like "Pin-Ups" era Bowie than the boys could ever hope or want to emulate; androgyny was a two way street, and all the kids falling off the buses were out their skulls on pills. The air was thick with the smell of testosterone and strawberry lip balm, and when it rained it crackled from the static of nylon pantyhose. Even in the midst of a national miners' strike the pavements were alive with bottled up energy.
Aside from The Clash's "White Man In Hammersmith Palais", this 45 contains the most fantastic and snidiest laugh ever committed to vinyl.
Feel it. Good times."
ib, 22/08/08.
Picture credits: photographers unknown. Skinhead from the photoshoot for the 1970 cult NEL paperback of the same name, by Richard Allen.
10 comments:
Unreal - Simon over at The Songs People Sing has had 4 wallops this week alone - I've got to be odds on for another bang soon!
was verifaction was 'frocke' as in frocke off DMCA I guess
Well. This is my third - in a week - and I've no reason to suspect they will suddenly let up; this last spate of removals is endemic. Larisa Mann - studying Jurisprudence at U.C. Berkeley - stopped by yesterday to comment under my post reprinting her article on the subject in my post "evil is as evil does".
Check out her blog too.
If you can make sense of the above comment, that is. I think my brain is slowly beginning to leak out my nose and ears.
Since we last talked five days ago, I had three more taken down over at SMM. If they don't move it, at the rate this is going, I'm afraid there won't be much of it left to move.
Jesus, Dean. I am fairly certain the way to go is FTP on a domain - as you mentioned was the intent with SMM; although WordPress and LiveJournal feel fairly immune at present, I am quite sure that once Blogger has been "eradicated" on google hosting, these trolls will turn the hounds loose on the competition.
See DJ Ripley here:
http://djripley.blogspot.com/
an adjunct to the WireTap article you alerted me to.
Nice article, I bookmarked it.
Ripley's ? For sure.
The Ripley lady tells it like it is. Thanks for the link.
You're welcome, ramone666; it was Dean who spread the word initially.
This is definitely what we need: transparency and a communal sense of solidarity. The belief that if one doesn't make waves one will not be targeted is naive.
It is increasingly apparent that in this current economic crisis - over and above the standard seasonal hard sell - a significant number of trolls have been employed to close down as many links as humanly possible.
RE: "transparency and a communal sense of solidarity."
Of course, this is the very kind of Marxist nonsense which inevitably ends in tears.
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