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ARTICLE: Peli’s First CDs

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I bought my first album, American Idiot, in 2005. Yes, a decade has passed where American Idiot exists, there are fifth graders who have never known a world without American Idiot. I was 14 and I bought it for $20 of Christmas money from Sanity because I liked the title track. I listened to it addictively for over a year, idolising this ‘Saint Jimmy’ character and his politically enraged partner ‘Whatsername’, and relating strongly to lyrics like, “where will all the martyrs go when the virus kills itself / and where will we all go when it’s too late?” – shit’s deep.  Listening to nothing but Green Day’s American Idiot through my formative years lead my 14 year old self to dark places from internet forums on political anarchism and narcotic drugs, to buying a Green Day poster for half price from the local record store when it closed down in 2006 and painting anarchy As on my converse sneakers in puff paint. Several of my friends claim that they enjoyed Green Day as teenagers, but none of them liked American Idiot.  Wait, did you want me to say it’s crap in hindsight? Fuck off. They might have only use four chords and ripped off all that was holy, but Green Day introduced me to punk, political resistance and the idea that I mattered. I still think it’s fucking great. Happy 10th Anniversary Saint Jimmy. Ⓐ

  • Richard Moore (24), 2015

First published by Pelican Magazine Issue 86 Edition 1, 2015. Conceptualised and complied by music editor Hugh Manning.  You can read the rest of this article with submissions by Bridget Rumball, Laurent Shervington and Lauren Crosser on Issuu below, page 31. The featured artwork was completed in black ink.

POLAROIDS: Shit Narnia at Private Residence, 12.10.14

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The latter image was eventually used as the cover art for their December 2014 single, ‘Claremont Boys’.

ALBUM REVIEW: Joanna Gruesome / Perfect Pussy, Astonishing Adventures, 09.12.14

ALBUM REVIEW: Joanna Gruesome / Perfect Pussy, Astonishing Adventures, 09.12.14 published on No Comments on ALBUM REVIEW: Joanna Gruesome / Perfect Pussy, Astonishing Adventures, 09.12.14

follow url ALBUM REVIEW: JOANNA GRUESOME / PERFECT PUSSY 7” SPLIT First published by God Is In The TV Zine, 09.12.14

On the 25th of November this year, the“band that tricked the Internet into thinking they were good” puchase finasteride from online drugstore Perfect Pussy and “Welsh Music Prize Winners 2014” go to link Joanna Gruesome teamed up to release a humble 7” split with accompanying comic by Phil “Mad Magazine” McAndrew.  This Astonishing Adventures record has reportedly arrived at a few poor enthusiasts’ homes bearing not the expected vinyl but rather the latest miglior sito per acquistare viagra generico 200 mg a Napoli AC/DC release.

Here at God Is In The TV Zine we realise that some of you struggle identifying your contemporary rock.  Do you regularly find yourself asking questions such as: what is a Fugazi, and how does it differ from a where can i how to get prednisone Marmozet? Are they not both small furry animals?  Kin with the Perfect Pussy, perhaps? And are you a kindly benefactor of said Perfect Pussies and Gruesomes, and uncertain about the strange sigils on your latest record?  If so, never fear for help is on its way.  Following this paragraph are three easy steps help you identify the correct Perfect Pussy / Joanna Gruesome split.  Hold on to your knickers.  Here it comes.


Unfortunately for you, dear reader, both these records come with the same sleeve.  The cover of Astonishing Adventures is a tempting sample of the enclosed comic of the same title by Phil McAndrew, in which the superhero Captured Crusader sheds her humble yet proudly enflanneled civilian identity Joanna G. to save the innocents of the world with the help of personal defence weapons and friendly, WiFi radiating plantlife.  This issue is called “The Caped Crusader” and if you open the comic there – yes, that’s it, don’t strain yourself – you should be treated to not Bon Scott crotch shots but rather the scrawled, grimy tale of Captured Crusader’s battle against some loser with a laptop and a shifting IP address.  They battle through city, jungle and musty bedroom to reclaim the Crusader’s slightly tarnished hatecrime fighting record and if you’re not laughing by page 13, perhaps you have the wrong record.  If, however, the details above match your product and you are still not laughing by page 18, God Is In The TV Zine suggest you return your sense of humour instead.


A history lesson: AC/DC are a stadium rock outfit formed in SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA, in 1973, known in Australia as the early Acca Daccassic period (notable specimens such as the Bon Scottus are commemorated in their discovery place of Fremantle, Western Australia).  Their most recent 7″ release is called ‘Play Ball’ and is the lead single from their 2014 record Rock Or Bust, known to correlated with another, related bust involving drummer Phil Rudd.  Joanna Gruesome are a contemporary noise punk outfit formed in CARDIFF, WALES, in 2010 out of an anger management class.  Now, we want you to carefully remove the record from its sleeve and place it on your turntable, with side A upwards.  Apply power and needle as necessary.  If this action produces a sound so hard rock it may as well be fossilised, congratulations, you are the proud new owner of a new AC/DC 7″ in the year 2014.  Return it immediately and save your dignity.   If the sound emitting from your speakers instead consists of rapid beats and chaotic guitar distortion reforming itself into a punky, poppy piece that worms itself straight into your head, then celebrate as this is ‘Psykick Espionage’, Joanna Gruesome’s first contribution to this split.  The confused, alarming lyrics speak a language shared by Sonic Youth and Babes In Toyland, a no wave, third wave, mess of youth, aggression, mind control and flying saucers.  If you’re lucky this song will segue almost perfectly into a I Hate Myself cover, ‘… And Keep Reaching For Those Stars’, with Alanna Gruesome’s breathless vocals lending a soft edge to an otherwise leaden nu-gaze rock fuzz.

STEP 3: THE PERFECT PUSSY Highly subjective.  Urban Dictionary suggests that the defining characteristics of Perfect Pussy should be ‘juicy’, ‘tight’, ‘beautiful’, and ‘tanked up with caffeine’, and if you turn to side two you should find not just a tight, juicy, and beautiful track splitting with stimulants but the intimate, abrasive yells of Meredith Graves over Perfect Pussy’s noisy howl, a shifting, writhing animal of harm, vows, pain and fear named ‘Adult World (The Secret)’.  If everything’s following so far you’ll now be treated by their dazed, traumatic track ‘A Leash Called Love’, a Sugarcubes cover featuring Svetlana Bilerman, meditation and advice on toxic relationships covering surf chords drowning in dirty fuzz and distortion.  Slowly you’ll be pulled into a churning tunnel of hacked, glitching voice, throbbing bass and percussion like a seizing throat, dragged along the grooves of the record and through its microscopic notches to the fading, dreamlike transmissions at its close.

Or you could just read the label, I guess.

Perfect Pussy / Joanna Gruesome – Astonishing Adventures 7″ Split (Captured Tracks)” by Richard Moore

LIVE REVIEW: Wrong Side Of The Tracks at 208s, 20.09.14

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Saturday 20 September 2014 at 208s

Previously unpublished.

There is no live music like live music a foot away from your face.

208s, a makeshift venue at best organised by a group of industrious, tolerant music fans in a residential home just behind Maylands’ shopping strip, has remembered this in a time when small venues are hard to come by and younger or niche bands struggle to fill out large ones with a scattering of fans spread over large dance floors.  As you trudge down the empty night road and through the dusty gravel car park to the open back door to 208s, the faint drone of the Pissedcolas’ ‘Mind Detergent’ buzzing through the brickwork, there’s no question what you’re in for. A faint smell of weed and sweet cheap beer hangs in the air around the doorway, with a kitchen-cum-foyer filled with instruments and a jar labelled “Soundproofing Fund” on the table, then inside the dimly lit hot room of 208s, ear-busting PA, plastered wall to wall with band posters, and the deaf white cat Sheba perched on the middle speaker oblivious to the slaughtered sounds around it.

The Pissedcolas started the evening with a grinding set sounding tighter than ever.  Though battling the heat and the cat’s twitching tail over his pedals, guitarist Fabian Rojas’ sulky vocals opened the night well to a small gathering rapidly growing in the dim backlight of 208s, and with aspirations to the studio in a few weeks they’re rightly locking down on their unique, drilling sound.  Their set jittered and throbbed through the brickwork before dissipating into the hot night air, with the guests pouring outside for the change of guard.  Around the corner a girl moans to her friend that it’s so empty – never seen it so empty.  There’s a piece of lemon in the bathroom sink.  Kitchen People are on next.

An off-shoot of Fremantle’s lauded Hideous Sun Demon, the Kitchen People took the floor tonight debuting new rhythm guitarist Charles Wickham, a recruit from Aborted Tortoise, to supplement their sloppy blare with a sharper backlight towed in during intermission.  Drummer Thomas Cahill cast long shadows over his bandmates, unanimously engaged in a twitchy little pogo with lead Jake Suriano’s self-conscious cheekiness countered by squirming guitar solos and Dean Eyeball typically throwing his gangly frame about the sidelines.  Announcing “This is a song Jake makes me sing, it’s called ‘Planet’,” he attempted to swallow the microphone hands-free, though the equipment put up a fight of its own before being handed back to Suriano.  He checks his phone mid-song, juggling mobile, guitar, microphone and lyrics scrawled in texta on his forearm, as they launch into punk-by-numbers closer ‘I Don’t Mind’; “It’s about Jake’s passive progression through life,” claimed Eyeball, then beat a hasty retreat to the band’s closing bars.

The Surf Rabbits, filling a slot for line-up pull-outs, piled into the room boasting short skirts and their own theme song.  With vocalist Sarah Taylor bouncing over to scratch the white cat perched on their amp behind its ears, lead guitarist Dave Owen crowed into the microphone: “We are Aborted Tortoise! Or if things go really well we are the Surf Rabbits!”  Their rockabilly surf style brought dancers a light-hearted, fast paced set with shrieking Owen matched head to head with Taylor, with songs about sex (‘So Good!’), the scene (‘All Perth Bands’) and monsters (‘There’s Something In The Pool At Adventure World’) picking up the mood only to have it immediately destroyed by the Darling Rangers.

For the first show the Rangers had 208s stuffed full, with gritty solid rock of an instantly familiar Australian ilk backing black-clad lead Drago ‘Drage’ Lyons as he staggered in small circles wailing and screaming with his eyes fixed somewhere in the middle distance of a bad trip.  Having produced an organ and a boat hat from seemingly nowhere, the Rangers pressed deranged Lyons into violent throes, collapsing onto the floor after a sheet of lyrics and dragging the mic stand into the audience with him.  The clutching, frenzied audience had as much idea of what was happening as Lyons as he wrestled with his mic, narrowly missing an audience member to slam into the wall.

Hussy entered next, an all-girl group with a shrill warble over garage rock with a poppy bounce.  Their lead Shinead Ruby stunned with an impressive clear voice like a marble rolling down a course, Hussy’s brooding sound throbbing under chiming vocals and indelicate drum lines.  The large band population – five in this one – beckon the audience closer as second vocalist Marcia D’Souza stepped in with a casual air that cooled the night down, welcome after the Darling Rangers’ previous display.

After a brief intermission outside the immense and stoned Doctopus rolled onto the floor, with bedraggled frontman Stephen Bellair getting approximately half way through the first song before producing a spliff as fat as his finger from thin air with a cry of “Hey, buddies!” as he gestured around for a lighter offered by an audience member.  The dim lit room stank of sweat, weed and spilt beer as it filled with smoke and heat, the spliff juggled around the audience and finally back to one leaning forward to expel lungfulls of smoke into Bellair’s face as he belted along to bouncing crowd hits ‘Social Anxiety’ and ‘Chronic Fatigue’.  The mood dissolves at the set’s close into a settling haze of perspiration and THC, with Sheba ushered around the beer-stained wood floors as 208s started the laborious job of collecting discarded bottles and the crowd filtered out into the night.

LIVE REVIEW: Wrong Side Of The Tracks at 208s’ by Richard Moore.

LIVE REVIEW: Omi Palone at the Abacus, 05.12.14

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Friday 5 December 2014 at the Abacus Rooms

First published by God Is In The TV Zine 8 December 2014

Posing laxly beside the ruins of an upright piano demolished in an art show earlier that week, Omi Palone’s drummer Jack Gillis umms and errs over a challenging question: if he can’t say what genre the band is, then who would he like to be. “George Harrison,” he answers at last, only to be pulled up by their bespectacled lead, Philip Serfaty: “Harrison? Really? He did that awful song about going on holiday, remember. What was it?”

“Gone Troppo.”

“Yeah! How’d it go? Troppo, gone troppo, troppo / it’s time you know I gone troppo!”  Serfaty pulls a sneer. “Lazy.”

If tonight’s line up – a full five bands, hand-picked by Twisted’s Jon Mohajer from the Cardiff and surrounds scene to play at the Abacus Rooms – are anything to go by then ‘lazy’ is an honest criticism.  Serfaty and Omi Palone are anything but, tonight marking the penultimate night on their most recent tour with Black Fungus, finishing at Drill Festival on Saturday.  Serfaty says it’s been mixed, with their London date rammed to the door while their opening show at Sheffield’s Tye Die Tapes was played to about four people – early afternoon, he bemoans, but at least they got the night off in Sheffield.  Drunken slurring about recent pornography bans to a Manchester crowd neared obscenity violations.  Now they’re in Cardiff, along with incestuous line up Artefact, LUVV and Mars To Stay, and enjoying the peace.  In front of the merch table, three quarters of Artefact’s lineup argue about the relative skinniness of their black jeans.

Artefact are on their second name in as many shows, and boasting an electric sound and image already after just one performance at Buffalo last week.  Sharing members with Mars To Stay, the evening’s slowcore representatives, Artefact are a world away with an early post punk sound, raw, open and clean.  Each song is a new offering of quivering guitar with the blunt bass providing structure, brooding lead Hannah Saunders’ plaintive chant laying beneath the scratching guitar.  Mohajer appears on bass, pumping out severe, aggressive riffs spat over by their blonde guitarist.  Though their sound suggests early darkwave musicians like the Banshees and Bauhaus, there’s something ripe and younger about Artefact’s sound – the track ‘Poisonous’, scored over by Saunder’s crying ‘you’re poison!’ has a taste of dark psych, something more colourful than the monochrome squeals of those early punks.  In his throes Mohajer manages to pull his pedals off the top of the bass head, with Saunder’s gloomy Sandman-esque act lifting into a smile. “One sec,” she cuts in before Mohajer’s amp howls with feedback then launches straight back in, ten times as loud, and races to their close.

Black Fungus, Omi Palone’s companions on this tour, are a more mature assembly of gaunt faces and plain blacks.  Their music too speaks of something more raw, drawing influence from Australian, German and American punk traditions, a clattering noise with Ed Shellard’s baritone vocals in turns between chant and bark.  Tamsin MI, behind the kit, plays with a nervous energy and skill rarely seen – there’s something electric about her, and it’s instantly apparent that she has left contact for another zone behind the music.  Mark Jasper’s bass provides a punchy undertone to Shellard’s rapid fire, saw tooth riffs, dragged out with distortion into a trade mark frustration and resignation that bring Black Fungus into a level of their own.

When LUVV take the small, tucked away stage their roughness stands out: from the bassist’s broad shoulders and wide stance to the tattooed, skinny frontman.  On their page they have filled their members section with “all people are pigs,” and standing before us they form a ganglike, insular group, playing to each other with bolted, aggressive vocals spat by the slurring lead as he dances around the mic as though in a ring and dodging blows.  With a piercing tom beat this bad is thunder, a motor behind their frontman with muggy bass as their first guitarist grinds mindlessly into his Gibson.  They churn through their set with simplistic lyrics and the band powering along behind: stand out track ‘What You Need’ gives the crowd much needed energy after the brooding prior bands, before the lead singer introduces their newest member, whose name might be something like Kerrigan.  “He’s a good one,” he announces, met by a jeer from the crowd: “He’s a wanker!”  “You’re not wrong, you’re not wrong,” he concedes, and launches the band into a song titled ‘Drphds’ on the setlist.  “I will be your drphds,” he sings, with the band exchanging fleeting looks of confusion and panic behind him.  But fuck, it doesn’t matter.  What a tune.

Mars To Stay, an oily, reverb throbbing two piece playing patent loose slowcore ballads, face each other in the stage area, politely greeting the audience before continuing their set.  Spaced and delicate, their drummer sings with a distinct folk-like style, distant and lonely befitting the name.  Each song guilds over reverb and treble with the careful vocals settling on the tracks to gently roost, thoughtful and meditative with the guitarist spinning two movements from his six strings.  Each song rises and drops like this, finished with kind, soft-spoken acknowledgements, creating welling atmospheres inside the gallery’s backroom for a curious audience.

Omi Palone take the stage tentatively to this quietly interested audience, the band ever concerned about keeping top quality – particularly after the loudmouthed Manchester gig.  They cruise into their set with their signature sound coming easy: melodic, tricky melodies woven over a simple, catchy beat from Gillis into songs part pop, part some other animal.  The crowd immediately turns to dancing with enthusiasm, caught up in these quick-footed tunes ringing of American, Australian, Bunnymen; Liam O’Neill, the band’s bassist, betrays earlier the influence of Australian underground music and New Zealand label Flying Nun on the band’s sound, while lyrics such as “You’re not getting older / you’re getting younger!” echo Serfaty’s talk of active doing and taking opportunities at hand.  Their new wave aggression plays simply off of Serfaty’s charisma as they push into their single, ‘Singled Out’, from their latest self-titled record to thundering percussion and cheers, until, outside in the gallery, they swear to come back to Cardiff soon – and we look forward to seeing them, any excuse to get our creative punkers out for the night and into the city’s galleries.

‘LIVE REVIEW: Omi Palone at the Abacus’ by Richard Moore.

ALBUM REVIEW: Marmozets, The Weird And Wonderful…, 04.12.14

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First published by 4 December 2014

Yorkshire alt rockers the Marmozets debut album comes out of the dark in a heavy, squealing package of scrawling distortion and screams. Becca Macintyre’s powerful voice leads the listener from open to close through scrambled guitar solos, chanting manifestos and throat-ripping shrieks into slower tracks like ‘Cry’ and ‘Hit The Wave’ with a dignified, personal vulnerability. The Weird And Wonderful is a screaming war cry for fans of regurgitating hardcore and early 2000s alt-rock outfits, providing a promising and high production first venture into the long form for the already established group. The Marmozets stick.

3/5 stars.

‘Marmozets – The Weird And Wonderful Marmozets’ by Richard Moore.

LIVE REVIEW: Love Inks at Four Bars, 28.11.14

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Friday 28 November 2014 at Four Bars at Dempsey’s

First published by After Dark Cardiff 2 December 2014

With a humble hello Oh Peas! opened to the small crowd at Four Bars, jumping straight into clangy tales of social awkwardness with a thin grimace as the audience stuck against the walls.  But hell, put chairs in a venue and that’s going to happen.  Oh Peas! is Rosie Smith and her bumbling tunes are equal parts embarrassed and sad, cheeky and restrained: let the clumsiness be an act, as her music has its own life and charm beyond her small grey cardigan and blonde bob.  Opener ‘No Ships’ features a quickly lost line, “now I’m mentally undressing you”, and Smith, flustered by the cheers finishing each song, flashes a tight grin and tucks her bob behind her ears.  With her sweet voice and bare chords played with loose, quick wrists, Oh Peas! brings a joyful, honest poppy sound to the night before offering the remaining nine copies of her album, Shades Of Intolerance, to the crowd.  Two go in a heartbeat.  Luckily for us, this one’s available forever online.

HMS Morris take the corner stage with Heledd Watkins’ thick accent crowning over ‘Gormod A Ddyn’, a sweeping English take on their Welsh track with Watkins’ short, abrupt guitar line digital over Sam Roberts’ stirring, atmospheric synths and samples.  They swap places throughout the set, with Watkins taking up station at the keyboard while Roberts produces a heavy, surging bass below their ambient, swilling psychedelia.  Watkins’ voice is full of emotion over the washed out synth like a white tide, something she attributes to a flu with a cheeky grin with Rosie Smith heckling back: “Sounds lovely!” “Thanks!”  Taking samples of Watkins’ voice for ‘Gold’, an English version of their release ‘Aur’, the rest of this swirling and majestic track is built around this and Wil Roberts’s strong drums.

Love Inks finally join us with a dirty bassline and Sherry LeBlanc’s powerful voice.  Balancing herself with grace and moving from toe to toe with the swaying thud of the drum machine, LeBlanc looks dragged down from the tour but her voice is unyielding.  Kevin Dehan’s beachy guitar backs up their cover of David Essex’s classic ‘Rock On’, updated with LeBlanc’s intimate vocals telling a personal story – introducing their next song as written for Yoko Ono, there’s part of this 70s American avant garde underbelly in Love Inks, cleaned up by the tour’s promotional material but plain to see in person: from Dehan’s greasy hair to their stripped back performance Love Inks do their heritage proud far abroad.  They pull through the ropes of ‘Blackeyes’, from their latest release ‘E.S.P.’, lamenting that their second album never left the states as LeBlanc introduces their last few songs: “This song is a prayer about getting out of Austin.  It’s gonna sound like a dance song but it’s really a prayer.” They finish with ‘Wave Goodbye’ on a low-key hymnal, lulling but rocking all the way from Austin.

‘Love Inks, HMS Morris and Oh Peas! Review’ by Richard Moore.–hms-morris–oh-peas-review#.VNYPwPmsXUQ

LIVE REVIEW: Courtney Love at Metro City, 13.08.14

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Wednesday 13 August 2014 at Metro City

First published by the Space Ship News 18 August 2014

Revival tours attract a particular crowd, typically a mix of fans from the artist’s most famous period – for Courtney Love, this meant women who were teenagers in the 90s – and a scattered few young devotees.  The audience at Metro City on Wednesday was in this way unusual, as even Love commented from her refuge high on stage: along with the expected force of 30-something women and their heterosexual partners, a large number of young gay women and men turned out for her show in Perth.  “If you have a uterus I can relate to you,” Love mused from centre stage, “And if you suck other guys’ dicks I can relate to you… but if you’re a straight guy I don’t know what to do with you.  Fuck you and throw you away?”

This didn’t stop a fringe crowd of jeering men hurling sexist slurs at both Love and the opening band, Fremantle’s proud Tommyhawks, with some finally lead off the premises.  In a performance by women for women about women’s bodies and experiences, this presence is a severely disappointing reflection of Perth which, grace permitting, won’t follow the tour to other dates in Australia.

To their credit the Tommyhawks played a bold opening set with husky, androgynous vocals from singer Addison Axe laying strong along crooning sax and pounding bass, with ghosts of female ska and punk bands from the past few decades guttered through faux grime and tight riffs.  A ballad band, songs like ‘Bluebird’ and ‘Down To The Water” were jazzy poetry to fading innocence and a sense of dry resignation.  Axe’s nimble fingers and stage presence won the crowd, although X-Men inspired ‘Rogue Song’ closed their set a little off-kilter with a fan narrative about the character.

Love later emerged to a sinister fanfare and abundant proof that force of personality alone could carry the confessional material of her back catalogue unaccompanied by Hole.  Opening with solo track ‘Wedding Day’ before launching into a stripped-down set of Hole songs and covers, Love was a queen, a lioness, a scorned lover as she lead the impassioned crowd in screaming refrains of reclaimed violence.  And there is terror and power in hundreds of women howling “go on, take everything, I want you to!” back at the small blonde woman in lingerie crouched by the edge of the stage.  “That took me back some twenty-nine fucking years,” she boasted as she brought favourite ‘Olympia’ to a close.

Returning barefoot for encore in a shimmering dress Love scattered the beheaded buds of a bouquet of roses across the greedy crowd to a sweeping rendition of ‘Northern Star’, before launching into her famous cover of the Crystals’ ‘He Hit Me (And It Felt Like A Kiss)’.  Always a controversial choice, Love’s heavy version of this “really sick” song came without speeches but proudly performed as Love moved from beside the audience to towering over them with a chilling anthemic power.  Closing the night with the self-loathing Hole song ‘Doll Parts’, the blood sister of the first Hole song played that night, ‘Miss World’, Love lead the audience in a final brutal refrain before curtseying and taking her leave, more than sure of her enduring place as the high widow of grunge.

‘LIVE REVIEW: Courtney Love at Metro City’ by Richard Moore

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