First it was the hobby photography chow

stage, pacific northwest, chow, cinema, bc independant media, venues, fucking free, t shirt hell, sauna, lampoon, metrotimes, message, thestranger, e cards, stranger, pathetic geek stories, regional internet registry, piercings, larry david, kosovo, Instead, in grim, straightforward language, it describes a person dying slowly by their own hand, and points out the insanity of it firmly. But there are people, and I’ve known some of hobby photography them, who will come along and take a song like this and automatically pick out some of the harshest lines with peculiar logic, taking them as an affirmation of that self-destructive cycle. They think Ozzy hobby photography is saying, "Take the acid! Stick the needle in! Don’t stop to think about the consequences, because we could all be minute specks of radioactive excreta in just four seconds now. hobby photography Among other good reasons." I must admit that, having lived that syndrome to some small degree myself, I sort of get that out of it, perceiving it as tangible thrill to hear a rock star backed up by a driving rhythm section spit out the most nihilistic, amoral injunctions possible; I often felt this way listening to the early Velvet Underground, and Mick Jagger communicates the same sensation in some of his more decadent moments.
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First it was the Bomb Vietnam, napalm Disillusioning You push the needle in. chow Your mind is full of pleasure Your body’s looking ill To you it’s shallow leisure So drop the acid pill! Don’t stop to think, now! You’re having chow a good time, baby But it won’t last Your mind’s all full of things You’re living too fast Go out, enjoy yourself Don’t worry then You need somebody to help youStick the needle in. Now, as far as I’m concerned that song, aside from having an arrangement with incredible dynamics including upwards chow of half a dozen breaks, is one of the strongest, starkest statements on the chemical plague to come out of pop music. It’s almost as good as Lou Reed’s "Heroin," and absolutely demolishes such false sentiments as "The Needle and the Damage Done" or John Prine’s "Sam Stone," because it doesn’t romanticize too much (the element is inescapable) and doesn’t turn the subject into grist for a soap opera.
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