The Homies getting it done.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Monday, June 6, 2011
GOLD MINE MONDAYS
See if you can spot Chad Muska in this weeks Gold Mine Mondays!
This weeks clip features Laif Johansen - from 'Failed Dreams' - 2004.
The first time I met Laif he was repping a bucket hat and doing darkslides - not much has changed.
Laif's more OG than anyone I know and has been skating longer than Mark Appleyard - Laif is rad.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
MISSION WITH LORE
LORE DANGER joins the Loons with some super rad snaps and stories from his over seas adventures!
The Bloody Beetroots + Extras
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Lille, France, 1st June at Zenith Arena - 19h30
Bonjour!
I arrived in Lille on the 31st by the Eurostar from London's St. Pancras, Kings Cross, at around 8pm. I had two bags: one with my camera, the other with my laptop and a spare change of underwear. I exited the Grande Lille Europe Station in search for a taxi, as i had no idea where anything was. Thankfully the taxi driver spoke little english and it helped that i had printed out the hotel address, so I passed it to him and then we were off.
I went and found a burger for dinner: A Royal with Cheese.
The morning of the event rocked around and I was excited to Lille and the much awaited show of the Bloody Beetroots. I soon discovered that Lille was a nice little French city tucked away in the north, with historical buildings and some interesting and tropical french monuments. Breakfast wasn't enjoyed until 1pm, and I started with a Grande beire. Fantastic! I think i had about five of six pints followed by espressos and a tuna baguette. I was happy as larry walking around the city in a more relaxed state.
The people I spoke to were forgiving as I tried to communicate with them in French. Now a couple of beers under my belt, I felt more confident that I could speak the language. Only having lessons through Google translator, the night just gone. I asked them if they could speak english, and all the cool people that I hung out with did. I went to an Australian bar called OZ just shy from the city centre, in fact it was better and cheaper than the centre (obviously), and most of them spoke English - Handy for me.
With two more pints and two Jager-bombs neatly demolished, I left to go to the show. I wasn't drunk, I was confident. I may've missed my way a little bit and asked for directions from a staunch Frenchie and he helped me with a grump and giggle and we both exchanged our Goodbyes.
I eventually made it to the Venue, right up to the ticket booth and asked if I could take photos, pointing to my camera, the lady asked if i'm working for a magazine and I replied "oui". Somehow, after a little loss in translation, I obtained a press pass to get into the event. All was sweet. I was a God.
I spoke to some of the bouncers and they slotted me in right at the front, prime location with the rest of the press. It got even better. I was wearing my "DIM MAK" Tee and had my "Busy P WTF!" cap on my cranium. People kept asking me for them. In a somewhat protective and offended way, I said "NO!" to them and continued to take photos.
First group that played was the Subs and they knocked it out of the park for an opening event. So hard, dirty and fucked up. It was kind've like Rammstein but skinny little electro monkeys. They played with attitude and what appeared to be obsessed by the "Triangle". Their banner flashed and pulsated and gave them a mystery. Clever and simple engineering, I thought. But, it's all in the show and it looked fucking cool.
The main dude from the subs went nuts and jumped off stage into the crowd several times, looking like he wanted to be moshing rather than playing. But it was a crowd pleaser and i'm sure this little French chick licked his back when the bouncers pulled him back over. Anyway, 1, 2, 3, maybe 4 times they went off stage, it's over! The crowd yelling something in french, then Encore, again! One more dirty-dark-pumping-fat-ass-mother-fucking-bass ripped through the souls of the possessed, jumping and shouting in joy. The last known memory from the subs was a looped delay and the keyboardist dribbled.
The Subs didn't suck.
As the sound of the speakers and the people lowered, some evacuated to drop more pills, snort more coke, suck down a huge three-paper, or just enjoy that nicotine stick, the crew set up for the BB:DC77. Anticipation grew thick in the air, like chocolate moose. The Church of Noise was being built, like a lego set, it seamlessly went into place with astute engineering.
Lego = awesome. Bloody Beetroots Lego = would be radical!
The sound crew got a cheer and a good shouting at and I had to laugh at this one dude the got dragged over the barrier by the security. We was a nerd to the every detail. But he was there for the show, so he was OK, both physically and right up the front with a bottle of water. His life was grande right then.
The sound crew scattered away and the lights dimmed. A quintessential start for any good band. The crowd cried and wet themselves with excitement. I could feel this… and the moisture.
The Bloody Beetroots: Death Crew 1977 - The Church of Noise. They welcomed us with noise, lights, screaming and a ferocious drum beat, that would make any human being Jump, Dance and move in odd fashion (like dub-step). They are here and the show was in full-noise. They meant everything that they stood for: Punk, Gritty, Dirty, Grunge, Relentless and undeniably Iconic. Sir Bob Rifo doing his "Thang!" jumping, screaming, playing the keyboards, shredding the guitar, slappin' da bass, and stemming around on stage like a deranged dictator.
He dictated us. He made us move to their movement. His every word was mimicked. He was leading us. They are the BB:DC77.
With song after song, the noise got louder and more and more exciting. With Guest stars running on stage yelling into the Mic to the tunes of the punk songs "Sperm Donor" and "Zombie Attacks" it raised the roof on awesome. The crowed were flailing their arms like zombies at the gates of fresh humans. Death pits were forming and circling around the mid section of the crowd. It was absolute mayhem, but oddly all controlled and not horrible like a Jocked-up-teeshirt-less festival. It was the right amount of rowdy.
They left the stage and the crowd demand them back. Cries of desperation and yells of anger, they were robbed of a good time. The BB:DC77 did the typical run back on stage, the drummer tripping to garrison his kit and bobberman hitting the button of his device with vigour, Rifo at breaking point of his vocals screamed one more time for the epic ending of their show. A ten minute live version of Have Mercy on Us. This being my Favourite song of theirs made me jump and shout, uncontrollably moshing with the other photographers, Fuck yeah!
Undoubtedly, the Beetroots live up to there expectation of greatness for showmanship. They regrouped and bowed with smiles and waves. They took it where it needed to go and kept going. Not one moment was questionable. They raised the roof and it's somewhere near Brussels. I have to say, The Bloody Beetroots was one of the best shows i've seen since Rage Agains The Machine.
5 star performance. The Church of Noise has spoken.
- Words of Patrick "Lore Danger" Webb
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End of transmission
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Friday, June 3, 2011
Jerry Hsu: Emerica Stay Gold B-Side
Jerry Hsu has been a favourite skater from day one, the only thing I dislike about him is his so much cooler than I'll ever be. The gap switch tail is one of the gnarliest tricks I've seen, I love Jerry.
FLIFFING FRIDAYS
Tip 3: Out fliff the fliffer
So you're in your regular fliff hole, dumping fistfuls of fliff in front of unsuspecting chumps. You've been skippin lines all night and everyone is so impressed then suddenly... BAM
BAMBAMBAMBAMBMABAMMABMABBA
Somebody enters the fliff hole. And he's rockin stacks.
Serious stacks.
We're not talking sick stacks of 'ceipts...
Stacks of pineapples.
So what the fuck does a young fliffer do? You don't have that kinda fliff! You got volume but no street value. This is some lion king shit and you gotta lead that fucking pack.
Only one option. Call the police and tell them there is some chump throwing around counterfeit fliff. Counterfliff.
Fliffers can't use counterfliff in fliffholes. When he gets taken away like a chump, laugh really hard. Force it out. Laugh so hard. Laugh in everyones face. fucking "HAR HAR HAR" whos fliffing now WHOS FLIFFIN NOW? Now yell at the bar staff that drinks for everyone are on You tonight. Drop your entire sack on the counter. Receipts and all. JUST FUCKING DO IT. The fliff sack will spill all over the counter. It will be so loud. Announce "that should cover it". Now.... Bust a 180 and step. You fliffed well tonight. Kick the door open on your way out.
So you're in your regular fliff hole, dumping fistfuls of fliff in front of unsuspecting chumps. You've been skippin lines all night and everyone is so impressed then suddenly... BAM
BAMBAMBAMBAMBMABAMMABMABBA
Somebody enters the fliff hole. And he's rockin stacks.
Serious stacks.
We're not talking sick stacks of 'ceipts...
Stacks of pineapples.
So what the fuck does a young fliffer do? You don't have that kinda fliff! You got volume but no street value. This is some lion king shit and you gotta lead that fucking pack.
Only one option. Call the police and tell them there is some chump throwing around counterfeit fliff. Counterfliff.
Fliffers can't use counterfliff in fliffholes. When he gets taken away like a chump, laugh really hard. Force it out. Laugh so hard. Laugh in everyones face. fucking "HAR HAR HAR" whos fliffing now WHOS FLIFFIN NOW? Now yell at the bar staff that drinks for everyone are on You tonight. Drop your entire sack on the counter. Receipts and all. JUST FUCKING DO IT. The fliff sack will spill all over the counter. It will be so loud. Announce "that should cover it". Now.... Bust a 180 and step. You fliffed well tonight. Kick the door open on your way out.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
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