The Ultimate Sin Of Any Performer Is

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.

At Its Best New Wave/punk Represents A Fundamental And Age-old Utopian Dream: That If You Give People The License To Be As Outrageous As They Want In Absolutely Any Fashion They Can Dream Up, They'll Be Creative About It, And Do Something Good Besides.

Don’t Ask Me Why I Obsessively Look To Rock ’n’ Roll Bands For Some Kind Of Model For A Better Society. I Guess It’s Just That I Glimpsed Something Beautiful In A Flashbulb Moment Once, And Perhaps Mistaking It For Prophecy Have Been Seeking Its Fulfillment Ever Since.

The Ultimate Sin Of Any Performer Is Contempt For The Audience.

They Wouldn't Be Heroes If They Were Infallible, In Fact They Wouldn't Be Heroes If They Weren't Miserable Wretched Dogs, The Pariahs Of The Earth, Besides Which The Only Reason To Build Up An Idol Is To Tear It Down Again.