#225
August 1984
Black Flag
Family Man
2.75 out of 5
A long time ago I fancied myself a bit of a prosetry writer. I was filled with my post-adolescent rage and frustrations with the world and I would scribble ideas in my little notebook as I pondered my existence in a studio rathole in the heart of Hollywood, just up the street from Mann’s Chinese Theater.
One day I met a couple who lived in the building and they asked me to come to their apartment and read some of my stuff.
I sat on a milk crate in their living space and read while they listened. Eventually they got bored and went off to the couch to go make out.
I let myself out.
I still think I was better than Henry Rollins.
The 1st half of this record is all spoken word crap by a wanna-be beat poet. The second half is the same thing but with music until it’s just jazz and then my head starts to hurt.
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