deathline in berlin

Oh Miss K you were one of the first blogs I discovered and one of the first tranny blogs also, with your makeup and dresses, and then you started a band. Again. And I’ve never met you. But you’re coming to Berlin!

Deathline in Berlin. At Monster Ronsons Ichiban Karaoke on Hell-0-ween.

last night in guangzhou

More art. Hanging around the Fine Arts Academy with painter Wan Xiaojia, checking out people’s studios, eating lots of Cantonese food, looking at paintings all afternoon and evening, drive to Taojin Lu to Bluenote, people talk drink … my last night out in Guangzhou. I go to Hong Kong on Monday then to Melbourne to make hell, and back here in a couple of months.

little bar in chengdu

This was another on of those things I read a while ago and it’s been sitting in my ‘please write about me’ folder ever since. So it’s not news. But you don’t come here for news anyway. Little Bar in Chengdu is what Melbourne has hundreds of. Small bars down weird dead-end alleys playing the best music years before anyone hears about it. China is still catching up despite a huge punk scene in Wuhan and other scenes across the country. And the international beer-chicks ain’t adding anything worthwhile to it when the local beer costs 2 kuai and tastes better. But here’s a piece that manages to cover the strange scene in China.

The first shot they see is a row of 8s –signifying the eighth birthday of the Little Bar –the underground Mecca of these parts. On the left is yet another yellow banner with markers dangling from strings inviting the guests to leave their mark. After the obligatory signature and doodle comes the photo gallery: 100+ visual representations of the hearts and souls of the kids that make up the underground music and art scene of this city. Long-haired and screaming, buzzed and tattooed, pierced and cool –all have their piece of the wall.

The next floor is given over totally to five women artists –three painters and two sculptors. The paintings show scarred and bruised female bodies, sweet huge-eyed princesses, and the caprice of a drop of rain. The sculptures are wild iron boats and stone monoliths…

The third and top floor is humming in anticipation of the night’s events. Cameramen and girls mill about as the bands check the speakers, let blast, and light up smokes. The sun filters through tobacco and weed smoke, and two very young girls sell beer, T-shirts, and CDs.

— Anti-War

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