1991: The Year Punk Broke Page #4

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- Really?

- Spraying(?) the front cover on it.

Then you put the front cover

of "Goo" on your scooter?

On the side panel, yeah,

and on the other side on the rail.

- You'll send us a photograph of that?

- I will indeed.

You know Murph, the drummer

from Dinosaur?

I have heard of him.

When they come here you should

talk to him, he's a scooter fanatic.

Peace!

See ya! Peace!

This is Keith of the crew

and he's gonna explain

the phenomenon known as

Thurston-itis.

Thurston-itis is basically when you

loose all control of your mind.

You just walk around in a daze,

stay with a baseball cap on backwards,

your bangs in your eyes,

and you go deaf.

Are the signs going searching for

used record stores?

Is that a good indication that you

are falling under the spell of Thurston-itis?

Yeah, I think we are following

the king of Thurston-itis now.

Yeah, looking for pre-used stores

that don't exist

and pretending that you know

where they are.

And asking the locals and --

pretending you understand the language

and you don't and you nod a lot.

And it's usually a lot like:

"It's right over here!

It's right over here!"

Oh, Steve Shelley!

Iggy!

Iggy! Here boy!

Here he is! Here he comes!

Iggy!

That's Iggy Pop!

You're outrageous!

Fun House is my favourite LP!

Can we get lunch together

some time?

Raw power, I can feel it.

So anyway you guys --

Last night I was gonna ???

Instead I have a --

oh thank you!

Hey, what's green and flies

over Germany?

Snotsies.

Woah, shoot

Yeah, shoot

Indian Billy simple sin

scratches across my skin

Oh my soul, there's a hole(?)

Soft gravel scratches cross my skin

Oh my soul, there's a hole(?)

It ain't love, baby,

that makes this martyr grin

Simply sick, where Billy's been

Sending psychic messages

you can't even hear

From my dumb mouth

to your deaf ear

Sugar spit sentiment

never even meant

We've all dragged our

Jesus hair around

Dust cake boy(?)

boy boy

Woah he wavers me something

Woah he fucks real mean

She screams out your name

'cause she sweats to be

Me, me, me, me, me, me

Has a crystalline c*nt

made of mint julep

Tea, tea, tea, tea, tea, tea

You're staring at something

you're never gonna see

Take your small eyes away from

Me, me, me, me, me, me

Woah, he fucks real mean

On one of the sleeves you've got

the name of Raymond Petibon

???

What's it exactly, I mean it sounds

like it's got to be a French name

is he French or is he --?

Raymond Petibon is not French.

This is another in an endless stream

of interviews with foreign journalists

who don't really understand a word

you're saying

as you in turn understand nothing that

they are trying to communicate to you.

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