quote:En dat kon vast niet korter?
Op woensdag 28 november 2001 10:03 schreef Key het volgende:[..]
Nog een paar Nummers van Neophyte:
bla bla bla...
"My voice is nothing, my thoughts are nothing, in many respects I'm like you; nothing"
quote:Dat kon wel. evt ook langer
Op woensdag 28 november 2001 10:17 schreef Ceased2Be het volgende:[..]
En dat kon vast niet korter?
"My voice is nothing, my thoughts are nothing, in many respects I'm like you; nothing"
quote:Zijn nog lang niet alle nummers en lijsten zat. Maar ik zal vriendelijk doen en geen lijsten meer posten.
Op woensdag 28 november 2001 12:09 schreef Ceased2Be het volgende:
Ja ik kan ook wel alle nummers van Skinny Puppy hier 1 voor 1 op gaan noemen, maar dat gaat dan toch ook nergens over?
Ook niet een voor een.
quote:Do!
Op woensdag 28 november 2001 12:09 schreef Ceased2Be het volgende:
Ja ik kan ook wel alle nummers van Skinny Puppy hier 1 voor 1 op gaan noemen, maar dat gaat dan toch ook nergens over?
(or shall I?)
quote:2 Drummers!!
Op woensdag 28 november 2001 13:47 schreef GroteBroeder het volgende:
Volgens mij zijn ALLE 'teringherrie'-nummers in dit topic tot stand gebracht met behulp van electr(on)ische hulpmiddelen zoals synthesizers en gitaren met diverse effectpedaaltjes. Ik wil daarom het acoustische "Machine Gun" uit 1968 van het Peter Brötzman Octet nomineren: meer dan tien minuten AFSCHUWELIJKE TERINGHERRIE geproduceerd door drie tenorsaxen (waaronder Willem Breuker), een pianist, twee contrabassisten en twee drummers (Han Bennink en een houthakkende Zweed). Zoekt dekking!
Now we're talking (moet je de rest ff weglaten)
Of Industrial strength -- the outro 10.0000 bpm op het laatst lekker!
quote:Noujah zeg.
Op woensdag 28 november 2001 17:18 schreef MarcoV het volgende:
Extreeeeeeeeemeeeeeee terooooooooooor van stickhead !Of Industrial strength -- the outro 10.0000 bpm op het laatst lekker!
100.000 BPM zeg je?
Sja. kan je net zo goed een toon van 1,6 kHz genereren. Wat daar nou lekker aan is weet ik niet hoor.
quote:Ik heb ze niet geteld slimmeke! Het gaat gewoon lekker snel...alles deruit!
Op woensdag 28 november 2001 17:42 schreef terabyte het volgende:[..]
Noujah zeg.
100.000 BPM zeg je?
Sja. kan je net zo goed een toon van 1,6 kHz genereren. Wat daar nou lekker aan is weet ik niet hoor.
quote:DIIISCIIIPLLEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!
Testament - DNR (do not resuscitate)
OF
THE
WATCH
(de live-versie van Return to the Apocalyptic city dus 
)
quote:Ghe, zeker weten
Op maandag 26 november 2001 20:33 schreef Xhorder het volgende:
Strapping Young Lad - City
Die gast knalt je hele equalizer in et rood wat een vol geluid zeg
Immortal - Battles in the North
Satyricon - Super Sonic Journey
Alles op Lyber ZarZax van Centurian...pleuris wat is die hard!
Warlust - The Final War
Darkthrone - Natasha in eternal sleep
Dying Fetus - Pissing in the mainstream
Muzikaal niet zo hard, maar de tekst is werkelijk bruut.
Correct me if I'm wrong. Goeie keus!!
quote:Waldo Jeffers had reached his limit It was now Mid-August which
Op donderdag 29 november 2001 16:55 schreef Riert het volgende:
Ik bedoel dus eigenlijk: is dat nou wat hij zegt op het laatst?
meant that he had been separated from Marsha for more than two
months. Two months, and all he had to show was three dog-eared
letters and two very expencive long distance phone calls. when school had
ended and she'd returned to
Wisconsin, and he to Locust, Pennsylvania. She had sworn to
maintain a certain fidelity, she would date occasionally, but only
as amusement. But lately Waldo had begun to worry. He had
trouble sleeping at night and when he did, he had horrible dreams.
He lay awake at night, tossing and turning underneath his pleated quilt
protector, tears welling in his eyes. As he pictured Marsha, her
sworn vows overcome by liquor and the smooth soothing of some
neanderthal, finally submitting to the final caresses of sexual
oblivion. It was more than the human mind could bear.
Visions of Marsha's faithlessness haunted him. Daytime fantasies of
sexual abandon permeated his thoughts. And the thing was they wouldn't
really understand how she really was. He, Waldo, alone, understood
this. He had intuitively grasped every nook and cranny of her
psyche. He had made her smile, and she needed him, and he wasn't
there. The idea came to him on the Thursday before the Mummers
Parade was scheduled to appear. He had just finished mowing and
etching the Edelsons lawn for a dollar fifty and had checked the
mailbox to see if there was at least a word from Marsha. There was
nothing more than a circular from the Amalgamated Aluminum Company
of America inquiring into his zoning needs. At least they cared
enough to write.
It was a New York company. You could go anywhere in the mail. Then it
struck him, he didn't have enough money to go to Wisconsin in the accepted
fashion, true, but why not mail himself? It was absurdly simple. He
would ship himself parcel post special delivery. The next day Waldo went
to the supermarket to purchase the necessary equipment. He bought masking
tape, a staple gun and a medium sized box, just right for a person of his
built. He judged that with a minimum of jostling he could ride
quite comfortably. A few airholes, some water, of course, midnight
snacks and it would probably be as good as going tourist.<P> By
Friday afternoon, Waldo was set. He was packed and the post office
had agreed to pick him up at three o'clock. He'd marked the
package "Fragile", and as he sat curled up inside, resting the foam
rubber cushioning he'd thoughtfully included, he tried to picture
the look of awe and happiness on Marshas face as she opened the
door, saw the package, tipped the deliverer, and then opened it to
see her Waldo finally there in person. She would kiss him, then,
maybe they could see a movie. If he'd only thought of this before.
Suddenly rough hands gripped his package and he felt himself barne
up. He landed with a thud in a truck and then he was off.
Marsha Bronson had just finished setting her hair. It had been a
very rough weekend. She had to remember not to drink like that.
Bill had been nice about it though. After it was over he'd said
that he still respected her and, after all, it was certainly the
way of nature, and even though, no he didn't love her, he did feel
an affection for her. And, after all, they were grown adults. Oh,
what Billy could teach Waldo - but that seemed like years ago.
Sheila Klein, her very, very best friend walked in through the
porch screen door and into the kitchen. "Oh, it's absolutely
maudlin outside." "Ach, I know what you mean, I feel all icky!"
Marsha tightened her cotton robe with the silk outer edge. Sheila
ran her finger over some salt grains on the kitchen table, licked
her fingers and made a face. "I'm supposed to take these salt
pills," but she wrinkled her nose, "They make me feel like throwing
up." Marsha started to pat herself under the chin, an exercise
she'd seen on television. "God, don't even talk about that." She
got up from the table and went to the sink where she picked up a
bottle of pink and blue vitamins. "Want one? Supposed to be better
than steak." And attempted to touch her knees. "I don't think I'll
ever touch a daiquiri again." She gave up and sat down, this time
nearer the table that supported the telephone. "Maybe Bill will call."
she said to Sheila's glance. Sheila nibbled on a cuticle. "After
last night, I thought maybe you'd be through with him." "I know
what you mean, my God, he was like an octopus. Hands all over the
place." She gestured, raising her arms upwards in defense. "The
thing is after a while, you get tired of fighting with him, you
know, and after all he didn't really do anything Friday and
Saturday so I kind of owed it to him, you know what I mean." She
started to scratch. Sheila was giggling with her hand over her
mouth. "I'll tell you, I feel the same way, and even after a
while," here she bend forward in a whisper, "wanted to," and now
she was laughing very loudly.
It was at this point that Mr. Jameison of the Clarence Darrow
Post Office rang the door bell of the large colored stucco frame
house. When Marsha Bronson opened the door, he helped her carry
the package in. He had his yellow and green slips of paper signed
and left with a fifteen cent tip that Marsha had gotten out of her
mothers small beige pocket book in the den. "What do you think
it is?" Sheila asked. Marsha stood with her arms folded behind
her back. She stared at the brown cardboard carton that sat in
the middle of the living room: "I don't know."<P> Inside the package
Waldo quivered with excitement as he listened to the muffled voices.
Sheila ran her fingernail over the masking tape that ran down the
center of the carton. "Why don't you look at the return address
and see who it is from?" Waldo felt his heart beating. He could
feel the vibrating footsteps. It would be soon.<P> Marsha walked
around the carton and read the ink-scratched label. "It's from
Waldo." "That schmuck!" said Sheila. Waldo trembled with expecta-
tion. "You might as well open it," said Sheila. Both of them
tried to flip the stable flap. "Ah," said Marsha groaning. "He
must have nailed it shut." They tagged at the flap again. "My
God, you need a power drill to get this thing opened." They pulled
again. "You can't get a grip!" They both stood still, breathing
heavily. "Why don't you get the scissors," said Sheila. Marsha
ran into the kitchen, but all she could find was a little sewing
scissors. Then she remembered that her father kept a collection of
tools in the basement. She ran downstairs and when she came back,
she had a large metal cutter in her hand. "This is the best I
could find." She was out of breath. "Here, you do it. I'm gonna
die." She sank into a large fluffy couch and exhaled noisily.
Sheila tried to make a slit between the masking tape and the end
of the cardboard, but the blade was too big and there was not
enough room. "G-damn this thing!" she said feeling very exaspe-
rated. Then smiling "I got an idea." "What?" said Marsha. "Just
watch," said Sheila touching her finger to her head.<P> Inside the
package, Waldo was transfixed with excitement that he could hardly
breathe. His skin felt prickly from the heat and he could feel
his heart beating in his throat. It would be soon. Sheila stood
upright and walked around to the other side of the package. Then
she sank down to her knees, grasped the cutter by both hands, took
a deep breath and plunged the long blade through the middle of the
package, through the middle of the masking tape, through the card-
board through the cushioning and (thud) right through the center
of Waldo Jeffers head, which split slightly and caused little
rhythmic arcs of red to pulsate gently in the morning sun...
quote:Kijk aan!
Op woensdag 28 november 2001 12:09 schreef Ceased2Be het volgende:
Ja ik kan ook wel alle nummers van Skinny Puppy hier 1 voor 1 op gaan noemen, maar dat gaat dan toch ook nergens over?
Mensen met goeie muziekvoorkeur.
Hoewel KMFDM mijn voorkeur heeft boven SP.
En 'natuurlijk' :Wumpscut:
quote:Tja maar als je alleen het linker kanaal op zat hoor je helemaal geen tekst
Op donderdag 29 november 2001 16:41 schreef links234 het volgende:
The Gift van Velvet Underground.Muzikaal niet zo hard, maar de tekst is werkelijk bruut.
En alleen het rechter is dus een 'spoken word' Of andersom Of werkt dat bij de cd niet zo?
quote:Ja, bij de cd is het ook zo.
Op donderdag 29 november 2001 18:43 schreef ranja het volgende:[..]
Tja maar als je alleen het linker kanaal op zat hoor je helemaal geen tekst
Of werkt dat bij de cd niet zo?
De geluidskwaliteit van de CD is denk ik net zo slecht als de vinyle plaat. Belabberde opnames zijn het.
quote:Maar ik vind 'Sister Ray' toch wel heerlijk... en na een kwartier noemen de meeste mensen dat ook wel terigherrie
Op donderdag 29 november 2001 18:49 schreef yellow_snow_ het volgende:[..]
Ja, bij de cd is het ook zo.
De geluidskwaliteit van de CD is denk ik net zo slecht als de vinyle plaat. Belabberde opnames zijn het.
En dan nog een aantal minuten
quote:'European Song' van de eerste met Nico. Is eigenlijk ook wel teringherrie.
Op donderdag 29 november 2001 18:52 schreef ranja het volgende:[..]
Maar ik vind 'Sister Ray' toch wel heerlijk... en na een kwartier noemen de meeste mensen dat ook wel terigherrie
quote:Slechts 7-en-halve minuut
Op donderdag 29 november 2001 19:34 schreef yellow_snow_ het volgende:[..]
'European Song' van de eerste met Nico. Is eigenlijk ook wel teringherrie.
Maar inderdaad, wel van lp draaien natuurlijk...
The Hightech Child - Tribal Storm
Meesterlijke beukplaat met verrassend rustige b-kant!
in the Special Olypics, Even if you win, you're still Retarded
http://www.yacoepsae.de om nummers te downloaden.
en GG Alin natuurlijk...
