Haza/fika

Ju dzsőmün. Nó? Hongöri? Ejhöhöh! Átóf ju dzsőmün. Khreháeühh! Lájked hia? Frímani, hjéeh? Uhhéhéhérh! Hangri hongöri. Ekhehehöhh!

Nem működik, öreg. A rozsdás röhögésednél is erőltetettebb bármiféle hazafias implikáció, ha hozzád hasonlótól jön. Igen, hazád vérét szívom, és bocsáss meg érte, de süt rólad, hogy legszívesebben te is ezt tennéd azzal a hírhedt földdarabbal a pocsolya túloldalán, a legendás nyugattal, ahonnan a kaliforniai napfényben grillezett dansz és urban-kúltúrád érkezik.

Swagpulcsi mögé rejtett pocak, mintha Bud helyett iható olcsósörön meg gulyáson (ó, ha tudnád, ez mennyire övön aluli volt) nevelkedtél volna, és végeláthatatlan, fájdalmasan kiszámítható álmok tucatnyi LA-ben lőtt rapvideó, nomeg a Jersey Shore által megihletve; az örökös eső alatt ragadt életed összes tragédiája, amit sosem ismernél be. Inkább előveszel engem, és clever boyba csapva bevándorlókról panaszkodsz.

Jól ismerem a fajtád. Te vagy, aki napi hat óra melóval fejleszted tökélyre a behízelgő modorod. Aki a hét közepén is képes borba fojtani lappangó hazafiasságát, hogy megrészegült főnixként törjön ki belőle, az életről mindent tudni vélő, bitchmester fenegyerekként, aki könyörtelenül mondja meg a frankót, hogy aztán meg is tapsolja magát, egy tenyérrel, mások csupasz arcán. Aki félreértette Lennont, és valóban megtanult mosolyogva gyilkolni. Akinek mindig igaza van.

Abban is, hogy nem vagyok jobb nálad. Jól gondolod: szintúgy önző és gyűlölködő vagyok, mint az összes parazita, méretemhez képest ömméééézingli nagy egóval, és egy édes gondolattal, ami csaknem engem is idióta vihogásra késztet.

Nem tudom, eszembe jutsz-e három hónap múlva. Abban azonban biztos vagyok, hogy a saját fészkemben csordogáló folyó partján fogok lebzselni a tűző nap alatt, alkohollal tömött kezekkel és erekkel, déjzgóbájt hallgatva, amit a bőrdzseki brigád többi tagjával együtt fél-ironikusan minden szarnak elhordok majd, és abban a mámoros négy percben boldogabb leszek, mint te bármikor voltál a szerencsétlen tucatéleted folyamán.

Faszfej.

All Your Anger, All Your Hurt (Bumpin' In My Ear)

Catchy as shit, but nothing more than your average generic stadium poprock song (which is actually kind of an alternative thing on the air nowadays). That's The Offspring's Days Go By, the first radio friendly single from the new record with the very same title. It debuted this weekend on KROQ, with reworked - still a tad too Foo Fighterish - sound and brand new lyrics. It's actually the third public version since that little video snippet from two years back.

As I said earlier, it definitely won't be a long-time favorite of mine, but that nice offspringish artwo taste we all dig is definitely there, although the overall tone and the lyrics (basically a huge, romantic fuck you to all those 'oh-god-why' moments from one's past, but that's just my interpretation) are still surprisingly positive for this band. Just compare it to Hammerhead, RAFRAG's debut single, deeply influenced by both the trench coat mafia and some serious military angst. Bang-bang.

Aaaaand... ready for the saddest/funniest thing? Australians got => this <= as a single. It's supposed to be a joke song like Why Don't You Get A Job or When You're In Prison, but as a track sent out to radio stations, well. Something just died inside me. I hope to Good Ol' Life, Fate, God Or Whatever that it won't suck itself to the top charts (otherwiese it's a guaranteed number one), so Offspring fans and the rest of the world can forget about it. They call it the new Pretty Fly. I call it crap irritating poppy shi oh fuck you autotune and Bob R easily the worst song I've heard from them so far. Not much shall be said about it right now.

Anyway, Days Go By, the full album comes out in June, and the full tracklist was released too. Not that it gives us too much to work with now, but the last entry, Slim Pickens Does the Right Thing and Rides the Bomb to Hell is actually a reference to Kubrick's Dr. Strangelove, which is way cool. I love obscure long titles anyway.

The one called Dirty Magic is a classic piece from Ignition, freshly polished and re-recorded (that's something they've been teasing us with for yeas now), which ignites - ba-dum-whoah - mixed feelings in me. First, this song is fine as it is right now, being arguably the best track from its era, and it comes off as somewhat a cheap filler among the new stuff. But if its reappearance serves as a harbinger of live Offspring shows with Dirty Magic on the setlist again, well, hell yeah.

Here's the single's cover. Like the song itself, it's filled with sunshine, something I miss from my life. Summer, hurry up, yo bastah'

It makes a cool wallpaper, too.

No Or Title

My grammar nazi Coke won't approve.

Sally, Take My Hand

Here's the online version of the article I found tucked into the copy of Teenage Wasteland by J. A. Kerswell, which I borrowed from the (deep breath) Oldham Library and Lifelong Learning Centre. I know, it's a book about the history of slasher movies, what kind of easter eggs should one expect from the previous readers, if not clippings like this?

Still. Celeb rapists are not the same fun, nerdy topic as Freddy, Mr. Myers and their bloodsoaked friends. To the person who put the stuff in there, in case you ever find this post - what was the point? Does it have anything to do with Jason or Sorority Row? Are those teared holes the clues to some coded message you'd like to give out to the world?

Or maybe you just have an Oskar Eriksson-esque hobby? Clipping and reading nasty pieces of journalism with some rock n' roll in the background? Getting a girlfriend or hitting the local pool is highly recommended in that case. Or you can try stalking me, Marble Hornets style. I think it would fit you. Grab a white mask and see if you can find me on Middleton Road - if the weather happens to be nice, I'm usually one of the joggers there.

Good luck.

The Future Is Now

Why would this blog be interested in The Offspring, one of the pioneer bands of the 'let's put cool stuff, like post-punk, industrial and grunge into the mainstream' '90s movement, which has long been forgotten by everyone 'cept for hardcore fans, who - paradox as it is - seemingly became their biggest haters since the beginning of the new millennium?

I don't want to overstate how much I love their music, but here's a hint: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Manic_Subsidal

Anyway, the ninth 'spring album is supposed to come out this year, and my excitement finally started showing lifesigns this week. Days Go By (AKA You Will Find a Way or November Song), the first new track they've been playing live didn't do much for me (although I dig the changed, less Foo Fighter-esque intro) but this new The Future Is Now footage is pretty neat:

The Rip-Offspring phenomenon is once again present - it sounds kinda like a Rise Against song, then again, Rise Against sounds pretty much like The Offspring to begin with, save for the dime a dozen vocals -, but oh man, it is so much better than the last album's Green Day influenced pop-punk efforts. Plus that dark solo is like something straight out of Ixnay or Americana. Quoting their president by something he probably never said: Not bad.

Also, Dexter was kind enough to post the lyrics on their forum. Noodles on twitter is also a recommended source on news and bits about the upcoming record, which I'm telling you, can't arrive soon enough.

Putting the song's dark message aside, have you ever (zing!) wished that the future was now already?