Notes from New Palestine: Beefin’ the blues only (a prayer for chris buck)

Notes from New Palestine: Beefin’ the blues only
(a prayer for chris buck)




…and all your two bit friends …they talking behind your back saying – man, you ain’t never gonna be no humanbeing
lou reed

i'm callin out
to all my thugs in the ghetto (callin out)
cause it gets hard sometimes
but ya gotta keep ya head up, and be strong
trick daddy


Music don’t begin like a song,” he said. “Forget all that bullshit you hear. Music can get to be a song, but starts with a cry. That’s all. It might be the cry of a newborn baby,...or a man when they put the knife to his balls. And the sound is everywhere. People spend there whole lives trying to drown out that sound.
James Baldwin





brr

In order to come to consciousness and clearity as to what caused a boy in the south shore, trapped in a tattooed room, to come to find life in a group of westcoast punkers turning amerikkkanada upside down with a battlecry of hardcore, I had to step back and travel to a land inwhich louis armstrong and patti smith took me to – one of the dead boys doing all the latest dances and twitches -- of boards and beat up rides transporting everyman egoes to shows with new hopes for a underground society – one of white and black boys who were hell bent on wanting to sing the westend blues.

It was the metaphysical blues -- a poor folk struggle made clear as I read that james baldwin called music a cry at birth. it’s a hollering in pubs over your fathers death in you or at the authorities who whip our backs raw or just that you can’t make that girl. I was listening to cream and blind faith on repeat. It’s what got me feeling kind of half baked and kinda ginger about the situation I had come to -- to make it all clear on how we got here -- it was about jam numbers for one thing. …and all and all, and all that will became of it, was a call to us after all. X heard that call and transformed a writing class romance into punk a billy holla by rearranging howling wolf. Then lee ving, with fear surrounding him, put the soul back into boloney, of all things, and slayer gave us warning in “angel of death” and the norwegians heard that viking blues which finally summoned their entry into the world of post industrial individualism and new global frustration.

This was the decry of western culture. I heard it had to be true. It came from richard hell and then the ramones mashed brian wilson’s teenage symphony to god and penelope spheeris filmed the bruhs giving voice to it as some have passed on, one by one, in midskank. I came to reality’s unreality while sitting in my buddy marco’s basement as a kid listening to ufo II then letting hawkwind chant how much I shouldn’t do whatever it was I thinking on , that it was a direct action plan of pure thought made into a sonic performance piece of situationist’s hardcore hootenanny calamity boogie.

…and all the dudes and dudettes heard that cry and all the crowd assembled in rooms basements and floors, beyond colour to become human, to become what some would call lil rotters on the road to ruin in cause of rebellion.

Back in livingrooms and tattooed rooms, I guess it can even inspire loco black men with electronics armed with the giver’s sound, like a couple of norwegians in a house thashing about with recording equipment in accustisc space, making metal immediate and low fi, like the gentlemen of 1/2 japanese did to make real this dream of reel to reel tragedy like royal trux did, hoping it might chill his madness – and all you needed was a macluhan space, acetate and the love of murdering the vibration with magnets and resin.

However, as did the blues, punk can be made into audio literature what was taught to me by the dialogue of the l.a. wordcore recordings like “Neighborhood Rhythms” or “English As A Second Language” -- this is where henry rollins had something to say and hadn’t become a poster boy for tattooed quasi homosexuals from the suburbs -- where exene cervenka showed and proved her staying power as not just the chick at the mic. This is where john doe spoke like he sang; where dave alvin collected the thoughts and held the beat of the whole scene with words just like the blasters echoed the rock a billy steady in the back bone of the l.a punk scene. so we must never forget the blues like john doe always knew and so did chris buck too -- the blues was out to express a cry in a pretty lo fi yet effective dub. All songs start with a cry like the change up in darkthrone’s “fucked up and ready to die”.

Now, fenriz, of darkthrone, tells us, black metal has this individual thing going on so it ain’t like punk. people have confused punk rock with a collectivist movement theorim which is a lefty propaganda scheme/a right wing recruitment tool -- the whole sublime inter-motion surrenders to dogma for the booshwash looking to organize something into cataloges of behaviourial mundanity. It was more about david wojnarowicz’s advice on how to use a camera – first throw away the instructinos then start taking pictures. The fact of the material was that the u.k., unlike europe, had made the music, like they had the peasant art of opera, into a philosophy for the booshwashes – while the north side of the planet made it about doing, about action, about living with pure thought made loud in sonic disarrangement.

I saw a documentary air on norwegian tv on black metal where a a bloke and fenriz describes the music as a feeling of intense pain – a feeling and pain – blues to hard core or punk rock sensibility is what has made them last and endure. All genres must be not played or performed but lived and felt straight into your gut and many have died living the life or, as rock n roll likes to call it, keepin the faith.

So when I get to the point of no activity, too much philosophy and fucked up by some aspects of black metal and facism or punk and what kind of studs you’re rockin on your jacket or whether you have baught into the broken rifle or snapped sticks of anarchy patches to the imposition of feminist doctine and gay pop culture making people less than human, -- i think of fear in decline of western civiliazation part 1 rapping (chatting with clearity and style):
dave alvin,
genet
a dennis cooper prior to the cool of porn and the internet,
an african landing,
patti smith’s version of rimbaud,
some angry samoans doing call and responses on “lights out” or laying down the law in “homo- sexal”;
to do whatever, do what it takes, fuck the fakes but never be a 3 letter man. Maybe, then I can overstand now, what I understood then, what caused the bad brains to say what they said about san francisco in the 80’s.

i just wanted to transform my madness like jaxson did and make tracks like mott the hoople in “Honaloochie Boogie”, compose writs with pacific frontal system, jump in on a chorus with sonic youth or flex a rhyme with patti smith -- maybe be lucky and find a girl like exene. B.u.t. in this country of catagories --being black and proud and liking music loud -- due to the “intergrate or isolate” policy -- I was made invisible and a bit ridiculous for not finding a label to die in. In punk/hardcore I was just a mug like any other mug, therefore; a man – a dude like all the young bucks thrashing like likkle rotters and tumbling into gutters lost in a permamant angel lust, like all the suckers. Mathematically, it said that if the white boy had the right to sing to blues then I had the right to keep the beat in words on pages over explosions in my livingroom space caught on the digital 7.

Everybody needs a space -- be it in a tattooed room in the south shore or dropping bum tracks in a basement bunker on the westcoast – you can dictate to a heart so much and then it’ll summon a cry that will be the blues for a next movement.

From Ramones to Satanic slaughter from celtic frost to allfather the blues like punk was never meant to remain in the same chord -- chris buck knew that. If so, it would be nostalgia like british skinhead culture, the teddy boy and those lost in an allman brothers’ melancholia. It was meant to show and prove a forward flow in a mental state. Metal had to progess too. It became classical music – wagner propelled through marshall amps at full throttle then sent back to basements to be replicated and adored back into the world of black metal lo fi. So must punk rock then and mr buck knew that too.

This was the decline of western sociopathy – that your resistence can be invoked by having too much just as it can be from havng too little to nothing – so penelope said in “the new york rocker”. She said too, in “suburbia”, of the neglect of care of kids born in wealth to the benign neglect of poverty by the system – it was not a pop planet call to embrace the suburbs, government policies and white wash the massive depression behind brian wilson harmonies and arrangements.

Hearing this, I became the spooky dude who at by the door and thrashed on the floor of the pit watching the gun club’s bad indians ‘do their war dance’. Those were the bruhs who would rather crash than burn out – it was then –
clearity
clearity
clearity
it was then
I realized that the 3 letter men fear went on about never thought that jeffery dahmer was evil for what he did b.u.t. christopher scarver and slayer did – so who gets the big up in my fiction or dubbed reality?
clearity
clearity -- it was then
that I had learned that punk wasn’t a form of music but a state of mind – metal, like rock a billy, was the way of life – it was a live and die/kiss or kill kind of steez – one to do right by it blues – are you ready teddy? I only play football for the coach too, louie - in this revolutionary suicide called hard core; crying the westend new palestinian fucked up blues – come pause with me in mid air.

all praise be




1427 Lawrence Y Braithwaite (aka Lord Patch)
New Palestine/Fernwood/The Hood
Victoria, BC







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"June Jordan in the documentary A Place of Rage made a comment about caring about issues outside of your own, like Palestine, poverty, the nonsense of lower school budgets in favor of building more prisons, or exploitation of people in general; all that slavery shit. It’s all a bit more important than where you’re going to spend gay pride or how nobody understands your bisexuality." -- Lawrence Ytzhak Braithwaite -- "The Way Things Are…: a conversation with author Lawrence Ytzhak Braithwaite"


http://victoria.indymedia.org/news/2004/11/34659.php