We're the flowers in the dustbin
We're the poison in the human machine
We're the future, your future
As a rule I don't listen to the radio, but I like to catch up on what "the kids" are listening to from time to time. Especially if I'm driving a car that I can't plug my media player into. Radio has given me some great music in the past but most days it just isn't worth the time. And some days it's just fucked up.
I had the radio on last week and caught a concert promo for Rancid. If you're not familiar with them - one, you're very lucky and should buy some lotto tickets, and two, they're a ska punk band formed in '91. The ad featured two songs in the background, "Ruby Soho" and "Time Bomb," and that's just sad. I listened to those songs when I was a freshman. Over ten years later and that's the best they can do to advertise themselves? I guess they needed a way to draw the last rude boy in existence out of hiding.
I don't know what's worse, that Tim and Lars are still in a punk band or that they sold out a 1,500-person show. Some musicians can be legitimately active for twenty or thirty years, but there is a definite shelf-life on punks. When your music evokes youthful rebellion, the barbaric yawp of teenagers and new adults, and you're middle-aged, it's time to stop. Even if they were fifteen when Operation Ivy was together, they're still over thirty now. Stop. Fucking. Playing. Kids, stop encouraging them. It's the only way they'll learn.
I saw The Sex Pistols on Letterman when I was sixteen - seventeen years after Sid Vicious died, and the year after "Ruby Soho" was a single. It would have been ridiculous if I hadn't known they gave us "Holiday in the Sun" and "God Save the Queen." Johnny Rotten could have passed as a parody of punk if only he'd had more energy. It looked like he was doing a bad imitation of himself twenty years younger.
Some people are supposed to live fast and die young. Sid did it, Johnny Ramone died of prostate cancer, and Keith Richards is going to outlive our grandchildren. Who will probably be shouting "pick it up, pick it up, pick it up" on their way to a Rancid show.
No Future, no future, no future for you
We're the poison in the human machine
We're the future, your future
As a rule I don't listen to the radio, but I like to catch up on what "the kids" are listening to from time to time. Especially if I'm driving a car that I can't plug my media player into. Radio has given me some great music in the past but most days it just isn't worth the time. And some days it's just fucked up.
I had the radio on last week and caught a concert promo for Rancid. If you're not familiar with them - one, you're very lucky and should buy some lotto tickets, and two, they're a ska punk band formed in '91. The ad featured two songs in the background, "Ruby Soho" and "Time Bomb," and that's just sad. I listened to those songs when I was a freshman. Over ten years later and that's the best they can do to advertise themselves? I guess they needed a way to draw the last rude boy in existence out of hiding.
I don't know what's worse, that Tim and Lars are still in a punk band or that they sold out a 1,500-person show. Some musicians can be legitimately active for twenty or thirty years, but there is a definite shelf-life on punks. When your music evokes youthful rebellion, the barbaric yawp of teenagers and new adults, and you're middle-aged, it's time to stop. Even if they were fifteen when Operation Ivy was together, they're still over thirty now. Stop. Fucking. Playing. Kids, stop encouraging them. It's the only way they'll learn.
I saw The Sex Pistols on Letterman when I was sixteen - seventeen years after Sid Vicious died, and the year after "Ruby Soho" was a single. It would have been ridiculous if I hadn't known they gave us "Holiday in the Sun" and "God Save the Queen." Johnny Rotten could have passed as a parody of punk if only he'd had more energy. It looked like he was doing a bad imitation of himself twenty years younger.
Some people are supposed to live fast and die young. Sid did it, Johnny Ramone died of prostate cancer, and Keith Richards is going to outlive our grandchildren. Who will probably be shouting "pick it up, pick it up, pick it up" on their way to a Rancid show.
No Future, no future, no future for you
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