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The Dirty 13 |
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First up: Lee Love, England’s prodigal son of sin and super powered shit can rawk n’ roll. With thunder and unholy redemption on his side, Lee filled out the ranks of The Divine Brown as the heavy hitter in charge of spittin’ and fuckin’. Now Lee is doing it all over again for his newest, dirtiest, and ugliest posse of pussy eaters and piss cutters, The Hip Priests. Lee’s a criminal greaser with a wicked tongue who exemplifies everything sleazy and grinding in this dark mess of a world we live in, the kind of guy who worships Iggy Pop and Zodiac Mindwarp equally, and has a big enough head to think he’s the obvious choice to be the premiere Dirty 13 interview. And, well, he’s right. So let’s have at it, shall we? Over the 13 tracks at a rough calculation I reckon it’s about 80 times. As the old saying goes, ‘If you don’t blow your own trumpet then no one else will.’ Mind you, whether that’s a metaphor for singing your own praises or self fellatio, I dunno.
Actually, I counted 57 times, but those were direct references. I’m
sure there are 23 or so more indirect references hidden in there
somewhere, so 80 sounds about right. Tell me Lee, which one of these women
is currently besmirching the Divine Brown name?
What's with all the religious overtones with your band names? Do you
really think you can save any of us? Are you really a wholesome Catholic
boy at heart?
I do believe in fairies and gnomes, but only when I’m listening to
power metal. So, you play garage music, but have you actually played in a
garage? Ok, well does dressing up like a sailor make you gay? Also, please explain the whole Turbojugend thing, because getting together with a bunch of dudes and throwing on some denim and make-up seems a little too carnival to me. Oxford English Dictionary…carnival…noun…an (annual) period of public revelry involving processions, music, and dancing. Sounds pretty good doesn’t it? And c’mon, any honest man knows that inside there’s a raging fuckin’ homo itching to get out, even if only on weekends. Dressing up like a sailor does indeed make you look gay, but it also makes you look hot and looking hot means you get laid. That is very likely to be with a girl ‘cause chicks dig camp, or it may be that you wake up having been beaten and meaten by a seven foot trucker. Ha ha ha. Getting laid is good, regardless. Johnny Thunders said there’s a little bit of whore in every little girl and I reckon that there’s a little bit of gay boy in every guy too.
Christ, that’s a scary thought. Also, quoting from the Oxford English Dictionary definitely makes you gay. The only dictionary we refer to around here is Tony Slug’s Roadhog Dictionary. Hey, come to think of it, I believe Tony Slug also likes to dress like a sailor. Well, if Lee Love and Tony Slug can do it, it must be ok. Plus, rocking out to Turbonegro is about the manliest thing you can do, isn’t it? Ok, enough sailor talk…I'm going to go ahead and assume you've punched someone in the face before. What did they do to deserve it? The last time I remember was when some prick had a go at a friend of mine in some shitty club in London. Sweet as a nut – straight to the fuckin’ chin and straight onto his arse. That’s better. Quote me your favourite line from Zodiac Mindwarp's Get Your Cock Out and tell us how it applies to your life. I can’t. As you know I sent you my copy as you were too far away for a conventional sexual favour and I haven’t yet replaced it. The title says it all anyway; it’s all about the cock out. And the rock out.
That seems about right. Ok, without referring to the music, and using
as many expletives as you can, explain in 30 words or less the greatness
that was/is Rocket from the Crypt.
Excellent work, Lee. What's your pomade of choice?
Black and White. Teen pussy.
Ha. It was only after seeing this crazed question that I had to check who the fuck he was. Nice camp leather joyboy motorcycle cap. So I’ll say yes.
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Welcome
to The Dirty 13, my weekly column featuring interviews with the hippest of
the hip, all them lizard kings, leather queens, and every ego star in
between. There’s a whole whack of mad minds out there ripe for the
plucking, so I’ve gone ahead and done the, ahem, dirty work for you. It’s
everything brilliant and stupid you wanted to know. It’s the best kind of
jive about the worst kind of fun. It’s nonsense and speed thrills all
rolled into one.
