Handy for all cellists! I use Pirastro Perpetual, a remarkable string, on both cellos. ... See MoreSee Less
By popular demand, here is the cello string tension chart, now with both medium (left) and strong (right). If the strong set in unavailable from the company, it says N/A. If a set is not entirely string, there is a note to the right of the total. The...
I’d like to share a few words about Mont Sherar’s photographic exploration of Killing Joke in Twilight of the Mortals. There have been few people close enough to Killing Joke able to achieve a documentary journal such as this. Frank Jenkinson, who photographed Killing Joke in its early days; Mike Coles, who’s been an artistic collaborator throughout Killing Joke’s history; Shawn Pettigrew, who made the documentary The Death and Resurrection Show; and Mont Sherar, with his forthcoming Twilight of the Mortals. We have friends and fans that are always welcome, but only these few have been entrusted with full access and carte blanche. This comes down to trust: trust in discretion and trust in talent and artistic merit; things only built over time. As anyone in the creative field knows, producing any work of merit and quality such as this, takes a lot of time, dedication, and personal sacrifice. The cost and time spent producing it, especially for work that lies outside of the commercial sphere, far outweighs any monetary gain. It is ultimately a labor of love, an obsession, and a need to give life to a vision. It takes faith to know that whatever the cost, it is worthwhile. We, Killing Joke, collectively and individually, gave Mont access and our blessing to photograph us, our lives together and separately, with no restrictions or financial incentive, because we saw the value in his photographing our unique band and these moments in our history. The burden of the work has been his entirely, but along with Peter Webb of PC Press, he is publishing a work of exceptional quality, and considering the expense of publishing such a work, he is unlikely to make back as much as he has put in. The band members have endorsed the project by each contributing a solo track, not available elsewhere, to emphasize what this ultimately is: a collector’s edition of the twilight years of the band Killing Joke.
Twilight of the Mortals is the new publication from PC-Press. The book is a collection of the incredible work of photographer and post-punk DJ Mont Sherar and the result of his 36-years of love for the band; Killing Joke. This book documents the peri...
Sean RileyOrdered and can't wait for it to arrive - along with TDARS & 40 years in the wilderness I'm sure it will be cherished by those of us fortunate enough to own one for years to come. Whilst on the subject of books, can I also mention Paul Sheehan's fanastic pictorial tribute to The Cure - In between days - definitely worth adding to your collections also in my opinion! 🙂
3 days ago · 5
Anthony-Kathleen LearyThe samples that have been shared so far show this to be a wonderful document of KJ in all there glory. Mont's love of the band is clearly apparent and I for one cannot wait to get my hands on this book! Thanks to KJ and to Mont of course for making this happen.
3 days ago · 5
Alan KeownSaw Killing Joke@Glasgow Tiffany's,early 80's,Awesome live.Bought myself and my mate who was at the gig with me,the deluxe copies of this,x
3 days ago · 3
Michael WallI cannot imagine not being able to say,I have in my possession the greatest work ever produced on my any band,quite simply a must ave,ave I must.
Madmen Love to spin the wheel They love to hear it click Click. Click. Click. Ching! Like a cash register Clicking Over and over again They know not the warmth Of an honest friend On a cold night By fire Basking in starlight Wanting for nothing At the river’s edge America, Where have we gone?
Deport Detain Prop Up The Insane As they unravel We will carry the pain We will carry the pain together Carry it along America, Where have we gone?
Pretend to drain Pretend to scour While sucking the tit Of tyrannical powers Puppets and masters At work every hour Each making the other A duplicitous ghost in the eyes Of the ones who look on America, where have we gone?
They meet in a room Discussing the end Not truth or beauty As the poet once said Wistfully tossing around Visions of death Like a ball on a muddy field in June
We will see the result soon
As the black snake moves through Eating its own head On a fine Sunny afternoon America, where have we gone?
We are in more danger As every hour goes by Sitting awake With three open eyes Punch-drunk with the weight Of the dream And the lie Where have we gone America?
What about the mother who’s hiding? What about the child who’s watching? What about the rope that is clutching Getting tighter and tighter still If time does not seize Us by the throat Before sweaty ambitious hands can Gloat about their Petty perceived victories Yearning to conquer A miniscule fraction of history
Stare at the sun! Stare until you can see again! Look what we’ve become My Friend It cannot be right If it is simply wrong America, where have we gone?
How can we feel When every moment is haunted We're dangling On the Hook Time and time again is Slipping through our hands We don’t want this! America, where have we gone!?
What is it we thought we were saving all along?
Hold on tight This is where it curves This is where we must turn Churn and bubble And bubble and burn Send these shameless devils back To the black of the urn! For we may only have A brief window To pause To See Those working hard to Extinguish the light Of curiosity
To distract us from suspicion A perfidious rabid hound Showing fangs Swaying mad Back and forth Drooling Then Disappearing without a sound
Our Freedom Is An illusion that bends When imbecilic cowards Are mistaken for men What seeds are we planting Where is the song? America, where have we gone?
Let us go By the fire Let us sing! Of desire Ring the bell Strike the lyre! The note that rings forever!
And I will Hold you In the catacombs Down the steps made of Chilled dark stone Behind the walls There are singing bones Where the curves go deeper And the grooves below Take us further down
Oh this dreamer’s heart Will not be drowned!
Take the sting away Let luminous rays trickle Transforming enmity relentlessly Down the Greatest Glowing Hall Where fierce piercing winds blow And we Stagger toward beauty Knowing we know nothing at all Even when we are Beaten to the core What is it to be strong? America, where have we Gone?
History has her way of showing us That all we do repeats As a stage forgotten briefly In the cosmic waves of Her curvaceous shade Oh the Love She did provide She taught me A lesson of time that speaks From the jagged edges Of the Maple leaf Where truth was once Succulently Served to thee With nothing And no one Between
Oh! That indelible Sugar-Coated Dream It was good then Now So high Is the pitch of the screaming Violins Aflame in my mind And I find I am Ready to sooth the seething Are we still breathing? Cardinals are still beating their wings Sculpting the Wake Out of thin air At the break of dawn America, where have we gone?
The world of no names To call ourselves by Is only one crystalline fracture away But find a star To sail Her by And you might Just be ok
Pour madly from the spout Create with love Cherish doubt I know no way to go forward Without The crimson hue That cerulean blue The place where you Can Go Soaring above This harrowing mess The Music of the Spheres This formlessness is but A hawk’s wing Slicing through the breeze delicately As if almost in jest Ruffled only by The subtle birth Of wonder Erased only by the taste Of the distant Scarlet Thunder