Wednesday, March 26, 2008

ROCK WRITING IS OVER! (IF YOU WANT IT TO BE) 'Music columnists are imbeciles waiting for some of you screwballs to just fuckin' end it by slamming a lamp over their thick skulls crushing their craniums once and for all. The few who would actually be worthy columnists are too clever to ever actually take part in the charade.' -- Uncle Jim

The above quote from the 'Uncle Jim' persona of whatever Bishop brother maintains that side name/project were the truest words about the mastabatory cul-de-sac known as 'music journalism' I had ever read in my time of cookie eating. Trouble is he had it printed it in a publication that's the very fucking example of what he's writing about. The second issue of this Bixobal magazine gives late 90's mags like Halana and Opprubium a run for their money with it's humourless, friend wrangling pointlessness. Review upon unchalleging review of Wire approved improv pooh dominates the bulk of this rag while Richard Bishop (how many 'cred' points is that guy worth to the editors?) rattles on again about traveling around in India. When this guy starts keeping journals on being kidnapped and forced to work in a sweatshop in one of the countries he loves so much, maybe I'll be interested. You know what would be real interesting? Reading a diary Richard kept on AN ACTUAL JOB he's held down in his life. Aside from a rather touching and informative obit about Charlie Nothing done up by Keith from No Neck, this thing comes off like a mid-afternoon wank session with sandpaper in your palm. I see from the inside cover these guys have started a record label as well that serves up 'limited edition' records by all their improvising/noodling/cacophonous contributors. Boy, do you guys know how to make friends! Shit rags like this are the very reason I bide my time these days listening to the same five records over and over and never leaving the house. Are the editors of this mag 'here' for the music? Or do they publish this thing just to rub proverbial elbows with guys who should be (at least) supermarker managers at this point in their life. My brain barely agitates to come to a conclusion on that one. Now where are my back issues of Not For The Weak?

1 comment:

s. kobak said...

Even though most '90s East Bay hardcore sucked my herpe-encrusted balls, Insubordinator was some good shit.