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Archive for the ‘Dillinger Four’ Category

Mosh For Jesus

Mosh for Jesus – Dillinger 4

A vague expression and a silent motive
to take this shithole by the fucking throat
and then it’s on our hands.
And that’s how the new world began.

When i was younger (and this seems so long ago now it is scary) the lyrics of primarily three bands fell from a bored, daydreamy mind to the margins of my school books: Propagandhi, the Promise Ring, and Dillinger 4. Those were the lyrics i, through detachment or desperation, defined my want of the world, anger, discontent, desire, all those teenage things, ink to paper. Lyrics like those above seemed so far and above all other bands’. An intelligence and grasp i did not yet have (and would never get). Oh the days i could whittle down everything i was feeling and everything i wanted to release to mere punk rock lyrics. Why don’t i have that anymore?

I’ll go back to my mother’s house and find an old history book to scan the above lyrics written word for word in the margin. And no s@#thole in place of shithole either. Word for word. I was tough in high school.

nowthen

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Hand made hard times handed back – Dillinger Four

One day, ten years ago, i was alone and in Sydney so i went into Utopia. It was once a decent record store. Or the most decent record store. On this day, that girl who worked there, the only sort of normal looking one who wore a “happy as a clam” t-shirt and that strawberry hat, was still in training and only her and the owner were running the store and i the only customer. He had left her alone to stock the shelves, the shelves i was browsing, and it was just her and i. So i browsed… for too long. I circled and circled the shelves and racks, half looking for something to buy, half screaming inside for her to look at me. I must have droned myself that way for maybe two hours, thereby ruining any chance of her thinking i was cool and had any place better to be on a Sunday afternoon. But there was nothing to buy, and she never looked at me. I do not know why i did/do things like this.

She had served me the last time i was in there and she was nice to me and smiled and as usual of me at that time, starved of any contact with girls, i took it too much to heart. When the only time you ever have the chance to talk to girls is via a customer/server relationship you begin to become discerning of with which sales assistants the smile does not only come with the paycheck, and she seemed that way. She had an air about her as though this store was beneath her, or above her, – elsewhere of her. Like she was kind of [clichéd metaphor moment] like a diamond in the rough or a Dillinger Four album amongst a Deicide back catalogue [/clichéd metaphor moment], and i responded, remaining in the store, silently screaming, screaming for her to look my way. I found this album eventually under Deicide and figured i had been pathetic for long enough so i headed towards the counter. The owner had come back, he was the one who served me, and i left.

I guess the moral of this story is to be wary if you were a female sales assistant serving little old love-starved me and how liberally you smiled at me.
 How horrible. Do the girls, and the boys, i work with now have to suffer this kind of silent, interminable infatuation from our customers? Rebekah has been asked out a few times at work. I was lonely and dejected, but some quite horrible things have been done in that name. Anyway, that girl grew up to be… Laura Imbruglia. I once applied to be the drummer in her band, got an audition invitation, but the chickened out and never went.

But this song, not my lovelorn, sickly past, writing as though i’ve left it. It’s probably my least favourite song off the album, but my least favourite from an incredible album. There was a time i could declare unequivocally that Midwestern Song of the Americas was my favourite album, but the years and what i’ve come across and fallen in love with over them have pushed it down somewhat. I think Anthem For a New Tomorrow was the first to displace it.

red shoes

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