Coming soon Also included videos, mp3,s Legendary Pink Dots Interview, New Bands, Show reviews, in love with the gadget, remembering Cramps, style watch, Festival coverage

I miss old punk shows , i miss circle pits at CBGBs, all my friends going crazy to a good band. I need a punk fix, and just in time here comes ONE BIG CROWD.   Saturday December 6, 2008 at Knitting Factory OBC is a tribute to infamous NYC 80’s club A7. with over 30 early hardcore punk bands from east coast. No we are not talking a bastard of metal and punk that hardcore became later. This is real punk, raw, fast and infectious. A rare chance to see many of these early bands , few of which are doing a one off.

MP3: Jerry’s Kids - Desperate
Links:
A7NYHCreunion http://www.myspace.com/a7reunion
Knitting Factory http://ny.knittingfactory.com

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Reprint from DDM Issue 2 (Subscribe HERE)

You Don’t Love Me, You Love Magazines

By Seth Styles

Nose up against the wall of severe writer’s block, I mentioned to a friend of mine my desire to write an epic article on the beginning of Californian synth punk but that I had n

o clue where to begin.  Automatically, he retorts that I could begin talking about the fact that the synthesizer as an instrument was a gender juggernaut to the hetero guitar machismo of rock music at the time or that the somewhat affordable and easy to use nature of the instrument placed it precisely in line with the DIY ethos.  Can you tell he’s a grad student?  And here I was going to spout out some story about my father watching Brian Eno with Roxy Music.
But how right my pal was.  The lads and ladies lining up to join the future were often crypto-homo androgynous bursting with equal amounts charisma and inspiration with little time for the hassles of rigorous practice.  Rather than find themselves ensnared by strings, they opted for the instrument that you could stumble into blindly and still make a decent sound.  Woe are we that live in the age in which the EBM grubs sustain on random brushes with pre-programmed synths, but fear not as this tale takes place in a time where ideas reigned over all else.  And as you’re about to find out, these weren’t acne-scarred hacks using samplers to fight God from their parent’s basements.  These were manic artists using a relatively unexplored instrument to kill anything that moved.

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Reprint from DDM Issue 1 (Subscribe HERE)

Review by  Saint Euchrid

Don’t let my name fool you. I’m capable of writing an unbiased article on this…oh, w

ho am I fooling? I’m completely biased. I’m a raging Nick Cave fan. The man can do no wrong in my eyes and the same should go for you filthy ingrates as well.

And The Ass Saw The Angel is notorious for inciting feelings of annoyance, disgust, sympathy and even empathy. Euchrid Eucrow is a hunchbacked mute recounting his life story for us whilst sinking in a pit of quickmud. How he got there, that’s for me to know and you to find out by reading the frickin’ book. The story is set in Ukulore valley, Cave’s fictionalized, romanticized, fantasized and otherwise ‘ized’ vision of the American South - a place where years of continuous rain can only be stopped by the birth of a prostitute’s child. Euchrid is born to a family that far surpasses the boundaries of white trash. They’re ostracized by the townspeople (due to completely founded rumors of inbreeding) and live in a shack on the edge of town complete with a junkpile, a donkey and an empty water tower that Pa uses as an arena for the animals he traps.

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