Saturday 26 November 2011

Eat the Rich

"We are Motôrhead...we play Rock & Roll Music!"



this is what Motôrhead's fan base look like. Heavy, dude.

Lemmy's surprisingly small in the flesh, with a huge barrel of a chest. A fine figure of a man...all that speed & whiskey has done him reet


Lemmy & Phillip Anthony Campbell showoff their more liberal tendencies

Killed by Death


Phil's cosmic phantom of the opera extended dream-scape guitar solo amidst a sea of dry ice probably seemed like a cock-on plan after 30-odd years of excess.

Whorehouse Blues unplugged

kablamo

the old folks were stoked, and so was I...Deaf Forever!

Thursday 24 November 2011

Under a Green Mountain





I made this zine of poetry/bullshit a while ago now, feel free to drop us a line (beastmangoat@hotmail.com) if you'd like a copy...

Sunday 20 November 2011

Seasonal Blues

life happens at a rate of knots more often than not...to try to keep up is futile, to give up is maybe worse? I dunno, here's some shit that's happened thus far this year (2011, if anyone's counting...)


it's probably best to not dwell too long or hard on the particulars of any situation which leaves an aftermath of cheesecake and rusty pliers on a public bench.


Vincent Price stands up proud and tall at Kirkby

Vince & Charlie

Czech out Beansnax (and his switch f/s wallrides!)



the wood ist chopeth when the winter cometh


someone died

not Doyle though...


Snax wallies in Midsummer Norton

and nollington bigglesworth's in Cheddah


Squashy hollied a metal hound in North Notts


dead dog









When men on the chessboard
Get up and tell you where to go
And you've just had some kind of mushroom
And your mind is moving low...




And if you go chasing rabbits
And you know you're going to fall
Tell 'em a hookah smoking caterpillar
Has given you the call
...

Go ask Butcher
When he's 10 foot Paul

Unsympathetic to Spastics


This snap is from a Fall gig at the Boardwalk in Sheffield, sometime around 2004/05, from what I can remember. It was a typically tense affair; the band were about two hours late and Mark E. Smith was even later (the band played for about 40 minutes before he shuffled on and started fucking around with their equipment) and full of the malevolence, bickering and general arseholeness that any good Fall gig should have. I had managed to squirm my way to the front, when Mr. M.E. Smith decided to yank the mics out of the bass drum (thus rendering it useless) and ditch them into the crowd, which is when this photo happened. Somehow, I managed to duck the flying mics and they smashed the guy stood behind me square in the mush, breaking his gegs...The Fall are pretty much perfect.

Friday 23 September 2011

The N.W.R.A.

on our 'olidays this year, we went to Worksop, Bradford & Huddersfield...oi vey!

quickly, to north Nottz...


where the d.i.y. tatt's are in full swing...me - "are them needles new ones, mate" him - "nah, its alreet though, cos I boiled 'em" me - (yikes!)

"TRUCKS LOOSE, WOMEN TIGHT" - no regrets!



Ramsden reservoir, in glorious Huddersfield

where all styles of outdoor ware are adhered to...parkas, cosmic space waistcoats, etc

Tim Smit

Kieran - f/s tailslide

Rod - no-comply to the same

Bambi - bluntside 270 in, believe it or not...

Rees, Son of Rees - nozbluunt skid

glory-hole

discussing the possibilities of dying on the way down...

testing the theories

Kieran front-rawking on the edge

Son of Rees, amidst the cosmic undergrowth



ancient pagan riiites

magick charms

Kieran holds fast and dives in...somehow I managed to have two cameras with me, each with film in...that's almost as rare a thing as ollieing into this wall


Rees - geggs assisted f/s smith in the deep at Hebden Bridge

Cockney Mare - Slash & Burn

Bambi rasps a backside smith around the corner, as somewhere across town, a gang of rabid feminists deface Ted Hughes name from Sylvia Plath's gravestone

the simple life



Josh. You hit the road, and often, the road hits you back...The North Will Rise Again!