ouch. doesn't even like the classics....

http://www.chthonicionic.net/bile/default.asp?The+Bats+Couchmaster
"Too much the opening track, Outside is bad for your health. I recommend taking up injecting heroin into your eyeballs instead. It tickles a bit, but the rush is awesome. Track two, Afternoon in Bed is like a pre-teen violinist playing scales over and over in some desperate attempt to make music, tears running down their chubby cheeks with every screech, and I'm being generous there. Track 8, Supernova sounds like the little ticking noise that maggots make as they feed. "

http://www.chthonicionic.net/bile/default.asp?Straitjacket+Fits+Melt
"Missing Presumed Drowned reminds me of a coked-up Andrew Lloyd-Webber writing a never-ending stream of musical obscenities dribbling through my ears and out onto the carpet. I wish it wouldn't. Only what rancid butter smells like could compare to track 4, Head Wind. Like 'Grandma we love you', Down in Splendour fails to engage me at all. It left me cold, shaking and gently drooling on the floor. Thank god the office cleaner found me in time. "

although, he does go on to say...

"I had to abandon listening to Skin to Wear after my nose and ears began to bleed"

...which sounds like a solid recommendation to me (or at least it would to Andoru).

http://www.chthonicionic.net/bile/default.asp?The+Chills+Kaleidoscope+Wo...
" If you've just bought Kaleidoscope World, take my advice and get a big black marker and scrawl all over track 7, Pink Frost *before* you play it. If you've already played it, you no doubt know all about the gentle sound of nails being slowly drawn down a blackboard by the Marquis De Sade it produces from your speakers. "

I like his style.

It's so sad to think that one of our favourite NZMers has been made obsolete by a computer...

The bastard!

What do I think about Bob Marley & The Wailers and Bob Marley's Catch A Fire ? I'll tell you what I think...

For fuck's sake, who decided that something not too dissimilar to the little pop and splash that comes before the scream after accidentally lodging a knitting needle in your eye should grace the world's musical heritage? Plonk track two, Stir It Up - Bob Marley on your CD player and tell me Bob Marley should be allowed to live. Go on. I dare you. Track three, High Tide or Low Tide sounds like the slow drip, drip, dripping of that tap you forgot to turn off in the bathroom before going to bed from its start right through to its (bleated) finish. Stop the Train is like little bits of aural shit dripping into my brain, and I'm being generous there.

You've probably guessed that I don't like Bob Marley & The Wailers very much. It's due to being assaulted by things like Bob Marley & The Wailers' own internal organs attempting to end it all towards the end of the track, or 400 Years as it is known on the back of CD. Like what rancid butter smells like, track 6, Baby We've Got a Date is a perversion that may actually appeal to a small group of sick fucks hiding in a basement somewhere in Illinois. Ouch. Track seven, Midnight Ravers will not only remove the enamel from your teeth, but charge you for its professional dental services afterwards. In fact, I feel violated from just having to discuss this stuff with you.

And Kate Bush's Hounds Of Love:

What possesses people to make music that sounds like Big Sky? The bastard lovechild of Joe Dolce and Mariah Carey? I'm not offering further opinion because I'm not listening to it again. Ever. It is difficult to stop yourself from throwing a brick at your CD player when tosh like track 5, Cloudbusting comes out of it on a regular basis. And Dream of Sheep reminds me of crushed babies. I wish it wouldn't.

Oh my god. I've clearly missed the whole point of this album - until you listen to track 8, Waking the Witch you've no idea that the sound of a dawn chorus of bees slowly being ground into mince for the cheap meat market is what Kate Bush was trying to create all along. I had to abandon listening to Hello Earth after my nose and ears began to bleed. On second listening Morning Fog starts sounding a little better, a bit more muffled and a little less like the dull splash of a TB patient coughing up his lungs onto the floor. Or is that because I've strapped a twelve tog duvet around my head to block out the evil nastiness? You decide. In fact, I wish Kate Bush had never been born.

Did I mention he was a bastard?

SYSTEM OF A DOWN KIKZ ARSE!

Ouch, heres the Mint Chicks:

[ external link ]

I HATE fiddy cent. I even wrote an ode to him.
50 cent, no quite enough to pay tha rent
50 cent, tallying tha bling bling yo spent
50 cent, oooh such temperment.
50 cent.
still short of a dollar, don't know where the other half went.
I guess you still have your hand rapped around your knob..up in your ApartMENT.