Review: The Item

The Item (1999; dir. Dan Clark), from Trillion Entertainment, may possibly be the most fucked-up film of all time. I heartily recommend it.

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Slayer live in Dublin

review by Anna Several weeks ago I found myself at one of Dublin’s largest venues, surrounded by thousands of long-greasey-haired, skinny, sickly-looking, hopelessly drunk

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Review: John Carpenter’s Ghosts of Mars

I’d give a spoiler warning, but that would require a plot to spoil.

I had in reality already seen this movie. I seem to recall my ex hiring out
“John Carpenter’s Vampires” a couple of years ago. This film was almost
identical and still just as bad the second time around. However, not only did
Mr Carpenter take on directing and executive producing roles, he also composed
the music (which I will not even begin to attempt to describe).

As I attended a preview of this godawful shite someone had the gall to call a
film, it is my civic duty to make sure that no-one else suffers the same agony.
This is a community service announcement.

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Crippled CD Database

Charles Heffner of Fat Chuck’s has started a corrupt CD database, so that you, the consumer, are adequately warned of defective product. The page

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Classic power ballads.

When the adolescent males have slammed, stagedived and pogoed their little hearts out to your fast ones, going up to four (or even five) chords (on acoustic, of course) with that big, slow “thump … tha-THUMP … thump … tha-THUMP” drum line will cement your cred as a truly great writer of truly moving songs and not just another spandex-clad, fretwanking attention-seeker searching the front row for male adulation and female lust dumb enough to lead to a night with you.

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Never Mind Lash, Here’s This Is Serious Mum (Evelyn, Fri 21 Sep 2001)

2nd TISM show at the Evil Lyn – next verse, same as the first. (Apparently.)

A loose roomful of people paid six bucks to see TISM tonight (Friday 22nd Sept.), except for the quarter of the audience who were immediate family members. Personally, I’m left thinking “But now I’ve paid twenty fucking dollars to see what will probably be an identical show???” Well, I’m clearly a …

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Burt Fucking Whoopee

After a few glasses of water to clear the slightly hung over feeling, I realised something that had been bothering me from last night. This is stupid, but I feel I have to respond to certain assertions made in the TISM song “BFW”. It has primarily to do with the idea of the artist vs producer divide which has emerged in the last twenty years. (Hey, the URL says Rock Nerd – you can’t have the rock without the nerd.)

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Rock Widow.

In light of recent attempts of mine to pick up, it’s probably good to remind myself of why screwing musicians sucks. This article was written a few years ago and is a little bit dated – I’m not sure if Michael Gudinski has any actual influence in The Biz these days – so if anyone has any ideas to update it I’m not too proud to steal them.

Dedicated to the forgotten buttress of the rock industry, the non-musician wife or girlfriend.

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Blow your brains on to the ceiling

OK, those of you who had TISM’s ‘Kill Americans’ on high rotation for the past week – you do understand that it’s you being taken the piss out of, don’t you?

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