The 5 Most Influential Irish Rockers of All Time

We celebrate Saint Patrick’s Day with the fervent abuse of our livers to honor, well, most people forgot what we honor.  Hey, we are all Irish on this day because Saint Patrick was…wait…Saint Patrick was born in Scotland.  Saint Patrick was born near Dumbarton, in Scotland in 387.

So, why is this an Irish Holiday?  Well, Saint Patrick preached and converted all of the Pagan Irish to Christianity for 40 years until he died at Saul, March 17, 461.  Introducing a bunch of happy Pagans to Christian guilt would probably explain a lot of the drinking; poor Celts.

That is not what this is about though.  This is about praising some of the greatest and most influential Irish musicians that have inspired us, entertained us and gave us many beautiful memories.


1. Van Morrison


Born, George Ivan (Van) Morrison in Belfast, this Rock-n-Roll Hall of Fame musician started in the Showband scene in Ireland, playing with the Monarchs.  After leaving the Showband scene he went on to international success with the band, Them in 1964.  Them had a few hits that included the legendary garage rock classic, “Gloria.”

Them were so amazing that during their almost month long stint at the Whisky a Go Go The Doors were their supporting act on the last week.  John Densmore noted in his book “Riders on the Storm,” that Jim Morrison himself was so taken with Van that he quickly studied and learned Van’s stagecraft.

1967 marked the beginning of Van Morrison’s long and legendary solo career.  He would go on to record some of the most recognizable, influential and musically bold recordings that the world had ever heard.

2. Thin Lizzy


Thin Lizzy was founded in 1969 by guitarist Eric Bell and organ player, Eric Wrixon (both musicians previously played with Them).  The formation was over a drinks in a pub in Dublin where they both shared the interest of starting a band.  That same night, as it always is when you’re drunk and have an idea, the pair went to another place to see a band called Orphanage that featured Phil Lynott and drummer, Brian Downey.  Lynott and Downey agreed under the condition that Lynott play bass and sing and that they perform some of his own compositions. Continue reading

Lil Wayne shouts out to Hunter S. Thompson in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas scene for “No Worries” Video

Update: Wayne has told MTV that I am Not a Human Being 2 will be out “officially” on February 19. It was originally scheduled for release this year.

Hunter S. Thompson hat and glasses? Check. Acid-headed hallucinations of bats? Yes. On-location filming in Las Vegas? Definitely. Sidekick Dr. Gonzo portrayed by Detail? Yup. It looks like Lil Wayne covered all his bases for his Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas homage in the “No Worries” video. The Dedication 4 clip was directed by Colin Tilley, who also recently directed Nicki Minaj and Cassie’s video for “The Boys”. Watch it below:

Remembering Kim Fowley: Genius, Asshole, and His Own Worst Enemy

By Evelyn McDonnell on from Flavorwire

Sticky sentimentality is the last thing that Kim Fowley — lord of garbage, king of noise, thorn in the side of Laurel Canyon smarm, slinger of shlock nuggetry, cranky contrarian who I find myself grieving terribly — would want upon the occasion of his death. So let’s be clear: the producer, songwriter, manager, and performer whose six-decade musical career came to an end yesterday was not a nice man.

Kim could be brilliant, charming, entertaining, hilarious, generous, tender, seductive, childlike, and, always, gregarious. But he was never anything so quotidianly innocuous as “nice.” He cut a furious, flamboyant swathe through a Hollywood full of peacock pissants, and he could be absolutely and cruelly cutting in his vulgar verbiage. He helped bring together one of the greatest of (all-girl) rock ’n’ roll bands, The Runaways, and he also tried to bring them down when they rebelled against him.

He was his own worst enemy: I completely believe his oft-repeated rap that he was a genius, but his constant touting of his own altitudinous IQ was also one of the many ways in which he alienated Hollywood movers and shakers. He wanted to be a mover and shaker himself, and ultimately — having worked with everyone from the Rivingtons to Frank Zappa to the Hollywood Stars to Helen Reddy to Alice Cooper to Ariel Pink — he was a mover and shaker, but often in spite of himself. He had an ear and an eye for talent, and a knack for fucking things up. Nowadays he would probably get diagnosed with Asperger’s syndrome.

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Iconic images untangled by Glen E. Friedman

from cuepoint

Glen E. Freidman is a cultural ambassador, a man who helped break down boundaries while documenting the worlds of skateboarding, punk rock and hip-hop with equal amounts passion and skill.

Glen’s photographs are vital, aggressive, emotional and full of life. There is a cathartic release in much of what he does and what he has documented. We all know his attachment to the early Dogtown years, his capturing images of early punk rock and later “hardcore” (a term Glen dislikes), and his iconic work in the early Def Jam days, before rap music was co-opted. Glen has always been there—arriving before the masses and leaving when the cornballs have made these scenes and the documentation of them redundant.


“As much as you hate to admit it, Ted Nugent Double Live Gonzo! was the major shit for me, I can’t front. It was one of my favorite albums of all time. Aerosmith, Zeppelin, Hendrix. I wasn’t cool enough to know about the MC5 or The Stooges yet. Nugent was the pinnacle for me.”

“Fugazi might have been the greatest band ever. They brought it for 15 years. Every single record was better than the one before it. Everything they did was punk to the extreme. They were what punk really is, through all of it. They were punk to the extreme in a responsible way, not in an arrogant way. That’s what punk really is.” Glen Friedman

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DA DEVILS PLAYGROUND: hardcore underground rap punx & death metal

by Alex Severino

Violent thoughts and satanic ambitions; branding skin with marks of malevolence. Sounds of the scream replace the composed voice. Staccato syllables conjure visions of death, depression, and deceit. Sexualized scenes of lyrical synapsis; tales of talismanic possessions utilized as weapons to destroy the accuser’s adversary. Censorship of words discarded; a stream of consciousness released with audacious pursuits at influence. Powerful bass thundering war-cry-esque performances. Broken bodies covered in tattoo, and against the status quo stylings of hair more closely related than the clothes.

The music has become journalism. The anthems of the audience. An audience of majority still based in their youth. There is something surreal about a young one spilling out so much creativity within such a little compacted space in time. And then for them to have the awareness that is has just begun. They may very well be young bluesmen in the making. Maybe even Rasta man in the waking. Time will tell; a true artist is forever changing. Continue reading