EDGE Club -[#2]

Hey ho, let's go Hey ho, let's go -They're forming in straight line
They're going through a tight wind -The kids are losing their minds
The Blitzkrieg Bop -Hey ho, let's go Shoot'em in the back now
What they want, I don't know?-Hey ho, let's go Hey ho, let's go.
Was coming from the sound-system.
- When you were at The Edge (was a great name), did you think that things were a crock of shit or that something really honest was happening????
- We, or i was at the Razor's-Egde. The edge of this was the very new, this new-order? In it was Created, a LOOK [image], the stance of defiance against this other SIDE. Looking at it now it was an abortion of POPular-culture, it was the angst of 70's YOUTH.
It was JUST so meaningful then, today it looks like a sick-joke..... just so meaningless. A fight against BOREdom, the Shock-troopers of the mind, the filth and the fury. Cutting the flesh with broken glass and sharp-razors, onwards with, Sex.... drugs and Rockin'-Roll.
- Interesting that the NAZI-thang became attached to
the PunK-ThanG as a fashion PoSeur Farce. NaZi DOG??!! Come on down, Bob Barker..... Was there ever any reason for alarm? Some of my best friends in the early 80s looked liked lost Nazis.
[- "So yeah, Steve.... what was it really like there in the clink?" I heard that you're pals would sneak in tabs of acid to keep you blasted there while you getting it in orifices you thought never to use. Yeah, Nazi Dog, petty thief. Holding up a Mac's Milk with a jacknife.
Could't even get that right. Weren't even convincing enough to rob a freakin' Mac's Milk! Heard you turned AC/DC. Wow. Guess you weren't able to fool 'em all."-footnote added]
- One has to look at the image created from this force that came to the headlines of the
day. The safety-pin, the razor-blade, leopard-skin, zebra-skin, spiked-hair, mohawks,
skin-heads, the gob-shot, slam-dancin', the buttons, at least you final got the name right.
When the VileTones went to NYC to play CBGB's, the Jewish-radicals where going to kill little-ole NAZI-dog and he was scared, the band where all scared to die. So much for radical-sheik, piss-on them suckers, No one plays that shit these day's. WHO gives a GOB-Shot about Marilyn Manson today..... mate, do you?
- Was the music ever real? Was it real? REALLY?
So many hollow-men doing their ranting and raving thang? PUNK no different from geeky suburban kids looking for a quick lay.
But being far too nerdy to even have a hope in hell.
- There was a big mix in all this music energy at this time. In this mix you had a Rock-a-Billy
resurgence. You had New-Wave, Reggae, Two-Tone [SKA-punk and reggae], Skin-Head Grind-
crusher-rock, it seemed to go in all directions. PUNK got the attention of everyone, the Degenerates
had arrived on the scene. It got you down to the EDGE - Klub didn't it??
- AT 43, gotta think that maybe all of this fashion shit is just it and that at 23, I misunderstood it for something else in my suburban geekdom. Middle-aged, but far more balls than anyone 23 could possibly have. Age is a trip. So many are tied to the chronological
thang. Fading to puke. Don't have much patience for the superfluous anymore. Do you think if
you were 43, not 33, that the scene would have been any different?
- Numbers, Age. What is all this about, where did your PUNK-edge go? Yeah; age is just a number.
The past is just a memory, a place that has shaped you to what you are today. Most people are scared
to death of gettin' old, me i just hang in there, like that line from -J. R. R. Tolkien: "Not all those who
wander are lost. The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by frost.-"Lord of
the Rings" We go on with new battles to face, where there is injustice, stand and fight it.
What about all those pints, the parties, the bands, the women, the dinners, the good times
the bad times, all gone to some other place, the rubbush-bin of history?
A little piece i wrote way back there. -The party.... the sultry, sour, seamy bedroom, that room glutted with coats, her kinky, sham-leopard coat, smothered his semen soiled army-green trench coat on the bed, the scene etched on his brain, a red-hot wire, burning-forever.... in his fevered-head."
- Never- Never, had that kind of experience, though I dreamt of it many times. I guess that was the
curse of being a sheltered kid from the suburbs. Damn, we thought that "Catcher In The Rye"
was the epitome of cool and we did consume the pseudo-intellectual crap of rock criticism,
literature, THE BEATS, et al... all of which was kinda like the BEATS and JAZZ. Yeah, we
really and truly thought that we were the NEW BEATNIKS. Lost in the EDGE??
THE BEATS.... Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Yukio Mishima, wasn't much into the visual thang, I guess. Still clearly remember the impact of seeing PUNKS on CBC News. There was a feeling of a revolution for teenaged kids from the suburbs. The writers have always
been my guides. Yeah, was cleaning out some old LPs from my basement the other day. Came
across a copy of "Screamin' Fists". Put it on the turn table and all chaos broke loose. Baby started cryin'and wife told me to "turn the racket" before I could even get a decent pogo going. Forget about Joe Dimaggio. Where did Joey Ramone and Joe Strummer go??? Spirit has been pissed away???? [-yeah: but JOE had Marilyn for awhile. WOT de F'in? shagged her JONiez -Rotten]
- No sense in some of these dialogues, really. Cruising on what seems to be empty. Never know
when the engine is going to cut-out. On the edge.
[- what are you a car or plane?]
_________________________________________
[written by Norman Ibuki & P.B.T_©_part of a full-story
on the EDGE club.]
_________________________________________