bad brains - pay to cum 7 inch washington d.c 1980
when your doing this kinda blog. posting your favourite records and what not. you kinda think to yourself how your gonna do it. when to post certain posts etc.. you dont want to stick all the big ones up at the beginning but you dont wanna be too boring and only post oddities either. so you end up in this kinda self-made corner wondering when to post the 'certain' posts that all the other blogs post as well. theres a few records that creep up in all ''rair punk'' pages........and this is one of them. im sick of holding it back, and a certain other one as well. so im gonna post both of them in a row. first up, of punks precious two, is.........the allt på, salt and vinegar, salt n sauce of the punk collectors wank-athon... 'pay to cum' by the bad brains. ill challenge any fool to a straightner, square go, fisty cuffs, fecht, if they say this record is for fools. cause your the fucking fool sunshine. this is it, by the way. they blew every cunt, and i mean every cunt, of the stage and may still do. they had a power no one seems to have ever been able to bottle and spread around. they tipped their hat and then bellied into self indulgent belligerence. hating everyone, mostly themselves. preaching positivity, but that positive message was soaked firmly in their beliefs and their beliefs only.. total shame, cause the power these boys had, they could have easily fronted a war, and a multi-cultured war at that. they of course didnt and exploded up their own arses. as i said shame, shame...fucking shame. on a positive and negative side. i got to see them once, in 1989 at the grand old age of 17. QMU in glasgow was the place. this is years after they were this good. man, what a show. cant even remember who supported them or nothing, and that kinda thing i remember as i usually keep a flyer or something. remember thinking this is the first time at a big hardcore show. maybe 1500 people, and it seemed like a thousand of them were diving about. was probably closer to 50, but dont burst my bubble. remember getting continually tossed in the air towards the front by master dumbo, herr bradley and some gigantic, smiling skinhead who kept his pilot jacket on all night. cunt must have dropped about 10 kilos. mad master dreadlock himself, H.R, doing backflip after frontflip. remember some kind of customary set too with the bouncers as well, but that could have been the stray cats gig which were kinda close together in the same venue, but im sure it was that night. another thing about that night, on a negative note, was the mad crusty scum punks sitting outside refusing to go in cause of the price of the tickets and them spitting on anyone with converse boots or d.ms on. saying that it was money in the pockets of the man who holds us down. right......i totally agree with this, but i wear labelled clothes. if you wanna stand by this mesage fine, i applaud you, but please then dont turn round and buy evo-stick and b.p's petrolium commodities, just to get fucked up, and then spit on me for paying a tenner for a pair of converse and a 4 pound bag of shammy fae the sarrae heid. thats why you got that ten pound trainer off the side of your head dick. and where are all these crusty snotters now. dead from heroin abuse that paid for the importation of child prostitutes. fucking wankers......'' I came to know with now dismay.
That in this world we all must pay. Pay to write. Pay to play. Pay to cum. Pay to fight...!!! '' oh, fuckin, yeah..!! the morn yous shall get ' nervous breakdown '. puss..!!
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