Andrew Earles

I was actually going to make a post last week that promised DAILY CONTENT on this blog. Folks, I have a book draft to do some serious catching up on, so back off. I suppose the nose can be momentarily removed from smelly Option back-issues and a certain section of my library that is literally in tatters.

ITEM

Wow, I sure do despise these charlatan “record people” that have popped up in the past year or two. Thanks Record Store Day! Most are older and just as clueless as the last 21-year-old art-school shithead that listened to No New York in its entirety (talk about a record I can go the rest of my life without ever hearing again). Watch with conflicting feeling of horror and delight at God-Squad owners of used CD outlets begin their autumnal love affair with vinyl. Sure, I’ll be glad to pay the $69.99 for that original of C.O.C.’s Animosity that some dipshit is hoping to get on Amazon.com, just because said LP was “not in the book.” Oh, no one on Discogs is selling it in the states? Only UK sellers? Well, it’s most assuredly “an import” deserving of your default “import” price of $100. You’re the expert. After all, you just deemed Crass’ Penis Envy “Indian Music”, so what do I know? Get fucked…that’s what I know.