ancient writing regarding clockwise phanomen december 07
ancient writing, written on a tipsy December 26th 2007 morning, at commission by Baydr Stik, Clockwise's manager,
of Ironbark Entertainment
not to turn Braingarbage into a fansite or anything, but hey, i would "BUY" "Runaway with the Runaways" from Itunes.
so far that would put Clockwise in a special commodifiable category of Moneyhonor with Portishead and Naglfar . . .
viva la pirat party!
What is Andy Clockwise? Is he or is he not a Scientologist? Does he really speak robot? And why will you be seeing him on the second day of the year 2009 at Hotel Café? Will he blast away the incertitude which haunted December, will he help you forget another night? Is he the new Obama, and is he here to save?
Andy loves each and every one of us all. He says so. Kingly, charismatic, all-loving, and kind, Andy comes from an innocent time when songs repaired broken hearts, or broken social identities, or even broken governments. Going to an Andy Clockwise show is like invading the medicine show. What is it he’s selling anyway?
A beat-box. Or garage rock. Or the best lead guitar player you’ve seen in a long time, the most raucous drummer.
It’s a revival of sentiment. It’s okay to feel again, and to feel foolish, and self-aware, and it’s okay to keep coming back for more.
After a recent explosive performance at the now ridiculously over-crowded Sunday night Cinespace Devil’s Orchestra Extravaganza, it has become clear that the universal appeal of ditties such as “My Generation” and “Everybody’s in a Band” have made magic with the shiny new kids, as thunderous applause, and hearty affirmations thrilled round the room. Who is he?
And who or what is a generation, or a genre, anymore? As he has so eloquently stated, Andy came from Syndney to the States “to become everything you hate.” If a city has a zeitgeist, Andy’s on it. Andy might just be a high priest of the revolution or devolution of one’s own Hollywood madcap race to oblivion/greatness. As we, defiant artists, plunge headlong into another year of creative risks, it nice to be reminded that a little hero worship does one’s peasant heart good. And if one really must have a hero, or a leader, if the opposition must have a voice, I nominate Andy Clockwise as speaker pro tem of the blossoming catastrophic phenomenon, known as my generation.
Not the we believe in any such thing.
And if you want to just boogie, or are in search of a midnight kiss from his semi-respectable coterie, the hotel café rafters will rattle with the wrath of Andy’s benevolent power rock dynamism.
One word, watch your drink, he’ll rip it right out of your hand.
The Hotel Café on Cahuenga holds a discrete authority in showcasing artists with vibrant, relentless creativity. Forget your future and forget your past,
pack us in like sardines and remind yourself of a day pre-myspace when love was still a four letter word, every body was in a band, Beyonce fueled the reigning goddess religion, and a frontman could work up a crowd.
ANDY CLOCKWISE
HOTEL CAFÉ
2 JANUARY 2009
If that machine killed fascists, this kills hipsters, no one’s killing anyone. And if the many generation old struggle to define yourself with your ready made, mall-bought individuality has got you down, check it out! In the Clockwise World hipster fascism is just another way to say wanker! Be prepared to be so designated, so loved, so schmarmy with adoration that you become a regular devotee.
See you there!
of Ironbark Entertainment
not to turn Braingarbage into a fansite or anything, but hey, i would "BUY" "Runaway with the Runaways" from Itunes.
so far that would put Clockwise in a special commodifiable category of Moneyhonor with Portishead and Naglfar . . .
viva la pirat party!
What is Andy Clockwise? Is he or is he not a Scientologist? Does he really speak robot? And why will you be seeing him on the second day of the year 2009 at Hotel Café? Will he blast away the incertitude which haunted December, will he help you forget another night? Is he the new Obama, and is he here to save?
Andy loves each and every one of us all. He says so. Kingly, charismatic, all-loving, and kind, Andy comes from an innocent time when songs repaired broken hearts, or broken social identities, or even broken governments. Going to an Andy Clockwise show is like invading the medicine show. What is it he’s selling anyway?
A beat-box. Or garage rock. Or the best lead guitar player you’ve seen in a long time, the most raucous drummer.
It’s a revival of sentiment. It’s okay to feel again, and to feel foolish, and self-aware, and it’s okay to keep coming back for more.
After a recent explosive performance at the now ridiculously over-crowded Sunday night Cinespace Devil’s Orchestra Extravaganza, it has become clear that the universal appeal of ditties such as “My Generation” and “Everybody’s in a Band” have made magic with the shiny new kids, as thunderous applause, and hearty affirmations thrilled round the room. Who is he?
And who or what is a generation, or a genre, anymore? As he has so eloquently stated, Andy came from Syndney to the States “to become everything you hate.” If a city has a zeitgeist, Andy’s on it. Andy might just be a high priest of the revolution or devolution of one’s own Hollywood madcap race to oblivion/greatness. As we, defiant artists, plunge headlong into another year of creative risks, it nice to be reminded that a little hero worship does one’s peasant heart good. And if one really must have a hero, or a leader, if the opposition must have a voice, I nominate Andy Clockwise as speaker pro tem of the blossoming catastrophic phenomenon, known as my generation.
Not the we believe in any such thing.
And if you want to just boogie, or are in search of a midnight kiss from his semi-respectable coterie, the hotel café rafters will rattle with the wrath of Andy’s benevolent power rock dynamism.
One word, watch your drink, he’ll rip it right out of your hand.
The Hotel Café on Cahuenga holds a discrete authority in showcasing artists with vibrant, relentless creativity. Forget your future and forget your past,
pack us in like sardines and remind yourself of a day pre-myspace when love was still a four letter word, every body was in a band, Beyonce fueled the reigning goddess religion, and a frontman could work up a crowd.
ANDY CLOCKWISE
HOTEL CAFÉ
2 JANUARY 2009
If that machine killed fascists, this kills hipsters, no one’s killing anyone. And if the many generation old struggle to define yourself with your ready made, mall-bought individuality has got you down, check it out! In the Clockwise World hipster fascism is just another way to say wanker! Be prepared to be so designated, so loved, so schmarmy with adoration that you become a regular devotee.
See you there!
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