Saturday, December 6, 2008


stands for "fucking love Fugazi." There really is no more appropriate way to express it. They never have been nor will be my favorite band, but the will forever elicit that reaction from me. FLF should be scribbled on the corner of memos and carved into Formica cubicle tops just so you can leave/read a message that the older cool you is not completely gone. In my line of semi-lucrative work, I get to talk to famous people on occasion, and Ian Mackaye is the one that most lived up to the hype said about them. But whatever, I don't really care if my rock stars are brimming with integrity or are total egomaniacal shams. Fucking love Fugazi.

I want to FL Wire. I feel like I should. The literature says I should. My self-identity certainly expects it. But I merely, really like Wire with frequent bouts of FL-ing this one bit in a song. "Drill" is my jam in toto, but the somewhat overlooked Chairs Missing(lala) like all their records, has its FL-worthy moments tucked in the songs. And all of "Sand in My Joints" rules. I want to slide the teeth of its gears in sync with those of Bad Brains' "Pay to Cum" and watch the resulting perfect under-two-minute punk destruction engine destroy itself in glorious spectacle.

And one of those Wire songs practically forced my computer to seek out "10:15 on a Saturday Night" by The Cure. Never have really FL-ed the Cure except for that month after buying Staring at the Sea on cassette during a family vacation, but the early stuff still holds up much better than you'd think it would.

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