The rich, shrewd, and intelligent have already gone home. They sleep well with clear conscience, and dream of who else they want to bang in the copy room.
My musing in this space will mostly be concerned with bands, and the various sub-cultural concerns and other peripheral crap that affects music and vice versa.
In his topsail-sized kimono, and fey, lisping voice, Brando’s Moreau comes off less like a reclusive madman than a gay sumo wrestler dabbling in Kabuki.
The Island of Dr. Moreau is a modernized version of an already twice-told tale of genetic manipulation. Marlon Brando tackles the role with a strange gusto.
This issue finally has that INTERACTIVE thing. Sure, not every band reviewed has one of them neato extension numbers after them, it’s a work in progress…
It had always been at the back of my mind that I could be the only person who existed. It was just a matter of cracking through the clearness to realize it.
We here at Lollipop are getting in touch with our inner scenesterness, and we’ve started a second magazine called Lollipop Freezine. Quite a novel name, eh?