REM Breaks Up

The 90's are officially over.

Which is handy, as as soon as I finish with Animals, I'll be onto the boys from Georgia right quick. Or something.

Amy Winehouse RIP

Insert your own "Should-a gone to rehab" joke here.

A promising career and talent shuffled off. A shame.



The missus will be listening to her for the rest of the day. Amy Winehouse caused her to cave to buying albums on iTunes.

It also caused her to do this:

Halloween, 2008. Her arms are more toned now
(She is looking over my shoulder as I type).

Sometimes you sing the blues, and sometimes the blues sing you.

RIP Nate Dogg

No info as to cause, but he did have two strokes in 2007. Forty-One is too young to die of natural causes.

This song was ubiquitous in '94:

I Just Don't Know What to Do with Myself

I am actually sad that a band has broken up:

The White Stripes Call it Quits

I suppose this fits. They've made their mark, and Jack has a thousand other things to do. But still. Dammit.

And after all that righteous snark I've thrown at Spin for kicking them so much, Jack & Meg have to go and prove those trend-sucking bottom-feeders right. I am depressed.

RIP Ari Up

I never was the world's biggest Slits fan, but I've got a DVD copy of Punk: The Early Years, featuring a gloriously incompetent set from the early Slits and Ari screaming her fool head off to something like "Split": (Content Warning: Adolescent punks using dirty words)



They may have got better than this, but they were never more punk. She ought bury Lydon, not the other way around.

RIP Malcom McLaren

There was a time when could never have imagined myself writing those words. There was a time when I considered McLaren the reason that punk died. IN this, I had largely absorbed John Lydon's version of events, which, as I came to understand, is a deeply conflicted one.

Then I watched the Classic Albums DVD for Never Mind the Bollocks, and damned if I didn't find the elder McLaren a hilarious and utterly likeable old coot (especially in comparison to the incessantly crochety Lydon). In fact, I went so far in the opposite direction that I wrote this about Lydon in the earlier iteration of this blog: