Oh come on, David Gilmour in the 60s and 70s could turn all hetros to mush.

perv

I take more offence when someone thinks that I am a twat, rather than a right cuntface. Seriously.

I never refused to do that on purpose, it's just the way it turned out. I bet they sound magnificient on drugs, was thinking of ATL on acid especially.

ATL gets it's dick sucked too much around this place. It's only OK. Worst SY album from the 90's IMO.

Maybe better than Dirty though, I dunno.

Mine too. There are many great bands that still are or were creating beautiful and challenging music, but fuck, I haven't yet come across a band that have been putting out music so thrilling, great and coherent for most parts of their career as much as SY. And probably never will.
I will die a devoted fan, I know this for sure.

exactly the same goes for me!

and in my opinion ATL and washing machine are their best 90s releases

I'm not sure about ATL but Washing Machine definitely.

yeah WM definately over ATL, but I really love ATL, is definately my Autumn record

I prefer Washing Machine myself. The title track alone is whoaa.

ATL is wonderful but has two or three stanker songs

Not as yet, Nefeli - my downloads are taking a very long time at present - am trying ot track down another version of it now.

fixed.

i think all of their post-ddn albums are great (except for goo, ejst&ns, wm and rr).

same here.

cuntface.

this she did in public for us to see
she came in here too drunk to do the show
between the trains and cars
broken glass and lost hub-caps, images of a gun
row house row house pass through
let the city rise up to fill the screen
clothes flung out of closets, doorknobs falling off
the guitar guy played real good feedback, and super sounding riffs
with his mild mannered look on, yeah he was truly hip
the girl started out in red patent leather
very I'm in a band with knee pads
we watch her fall over and lay down,
shouting the poetic truths of high school journal keepers
row house row house pass through, let the city rise up
twister, dust buster, hospital bed, I'll see you, see you
see you on the highway
now we're told so merge ideas, of song forms and freedom
miss seafood, miss cheesecake, a couple of miss donuts
the edge of a blade pressed to the throat of your reflected image
poised, yet totally screwed up
yes sir, yes sir, step right up

none of us know, where we're trying to get to
what sort of live where we trying to build
now we're told so merge ideas, of song forms and freedom
seasons out of life, nothing is out of reach
L.A. is more confusing now, than anywhere I've ever been to
I'm from New York City, breath it out and let it in

where are you now?
when your broken eyes are closed
head in a cloudy dream, green and sailboats
borrowed and never returned
emotions, books, outlooks on life

hello 20 15!

hello, 20, 15!

I've always thought these were some of the most direly self-referential lyrics SY were responsible for.

I have a live bootleg where he says

the girl started out in red patent leather
very I'm in a band
very I, I, I

it makes me laugh

uh no
every post you've made. is me.
stop.

right down to the way they're phrased. this shit is ridiculous.