THEORY REALLY HAS HAD IT THIS TIME, THE YOUTH SCENE IS POLARIZING BETWEEN THOSE WHO WANT MEDIA BLOW OUT AND THOSE WHO WANT TO BLOW OUT THE MEDIA. FUCK ANYONE WHO IS STILL PREPARED TO PLAY A ROLE: COMMUTER AND POP STAR, MYSTIC AND HOUSEWIFE. ALL IN ALL THE BASTARDS IN BLUE ARE JUST A RED HERRING. THE UNDERGROUND PRESS IS PURE CRAP BUT THE DIGGERS APPEARING OUT OF THIS ARE REALLY GOING SOMEWHERE.
THE REFUSAL implicit in the dropout lifestyle really could become a force to be reckoned with. Standing almost beyond the pale of bourgeois society, the dropout world is the first attempt to reject the whole doublewrapped, prepackaged deal thrust, so breathlessly upon us—our sunblest bread and panavision circuses—TO TRY AND BREAK THROUGH INTO REAL LIFE.
BLACK, so far, has been hipper; its eruptions far more cataclysmic, but the black madness—the fire in the veins—the ecstasy of the looting and the pyromania—was initially thrust upon them by their exclusion from all but the lowest echelons of the supremarket and pointblock hierarchy, while the hippy has quite lucidly dropped out from its highest rungs.
AND BLACK is the colour of more than any race. Sin is black, the Devil is black, and so is despair. A recent copy of [a leading establishment newspaper] booked the dropout as ‘the negro of Europe’. No wonder they hate his guts. Everything about him clashes with the millenia of white ‘civilization’. The forces of the left hand path. Right stands for purity, sobriety and continence. It is only logical that Rimbaud never washed. He was an ignorant little slob. Little better than a nigger. Little better than an animal. Little better than an ape.
LET THERE BE DARK. Primitive society is beginning to find a real echo in the pre-nomadic lifestyle of the dropout and the bum. The New Left equals the New Primitivism. Its flip dismissal of linear time, of logic, of history itself brings it close in many ways to totemism and shamanism—but at the same time its very flipness also does away with seriousness. NEW PRIMITIVE LIFESTYLE IS SURRENDER TO A NEVER ENDING GAME: A GAME WHICH MUST BREAK EVEN THE RULE THAT ALL RULES MUST BE BROKEN.
THE NEW barbarians couldn’t give a fuck about the hallowed trashcans of the past, couldn’t give a fuck, in particular, about the dusky, perfumed ones of the ‘mysterious’ East (the only real mystery being how all those bloody trays, inlays, and hubble-bubbles ever got from Bradford to Hyderabad and back again). Mystics? We envy only their bodily ecstasy. And we can see the same transports surging up in a Robin Hood or a Bonnot, in Rue Gay-Lussac or in Detroit. The ‘wisdom’ of quite enterprising Calcutta airport hustlers, like the late lamented Yogi Bear, seems to us anything but transcendental.
LOVE IS VIOLENCE. LOVE BELIEVES IN TOOLS AND WEAPONS. THE RETURN OF GERONIMO, THE RETURN OF THE HASHISHINS, THE RETURN OF THE RANTERS, THE RETURN OF BONNOT…VILLA RIDES!!!
FROM THE ENGLISH DIGGER MAGAZINE HAPT
Merzbow/ 'Lost Paradise' Fire Scene
Salaam/ Hadha Mu Insaaf Minnek
These Arms Are Snakes/ Horse Girl
Skull Of Glee/ Cannibals Gone Wild
Summons of Shining Ruins/ SONG 4 – UTYU
Sunburned Hand Of The Man/ Serpent's Wish
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1 comments:
Fucking awesome post, text & all. Pussy Galore and Sun Ra in the same post?!? Yeehah!
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