The First Mistake Of Art

... The Twin Concepts Of Nihilism And The Antihero Have Had It. What Began With The Wild One And James "nobody Understands Me" Dean, Ran With Increasing Vehement Negativism Up Through The Stones And Velvets And Iggy ... [i]t May Be Time, In Spite Of All Indications To The Contrary From The Exterior Society, To Begin Thinking In Terms Of Heroes Again, Of Love Instead Of Hate, Of Energy Instead Of Violence, Of Strength Instead Of Cruelty, Of Action Instead Of Reaction.

The Real Question Is What To Live For. And I Can't Answer It. Except Another One Of Your Records. And Another Chance For Me To Write. Art For Art's Sake, Corny As That Sounds.

A Young Woman Is Dead. I Don’t Care. You Probably Don’t Care. The Police Don’t Care. The Papers Don’t Care. The Punks For The Most Part Don’t Care. The Only People That Care Are (i Suppose) Her Parents And (i’m Almost Certain) The Boy Accused Of Murdering Her.

When Kids Can't Afford To See It Anymore Maybe We'll Have A Whole Resurgence Of Garage Bands All Over America And This New Wave Thing Will Start To Mean Something On A Grass Roots Level.

I'll Probably Never Produce A Masterpiece, But So What? I Feel I Have A Sound Aborning, Which Is My Own, And That Sound If Erratic Is Still My Greatest Pride, Because I Would Rather Write Like A Dancer Shaking My Ass To Boogaloo Inside My Head, And Perhaps Reach Only Readers Who Like To Use Books To Shake Their Asses, Than To Be Or Write For The Man Cloistered In A Closet Somewhere Reading Aeschylus While This Stupefying World Careens Crazily Past His Waxy Windows Toward Its Last Raving Sooty Feedback Pirouette.