Shattered: The Rock Star Challenge
Posted: 11 Jan 2004, 12:52
It is day eleven of the Shattered Rock Star Challenge and only three artists now
remain in the studio; Lemmy, Andrew Eldritch and Bobby Gillespie.
I am your host, Hunter S. Thompson.
After a massive two hundred and fifty-seven hours of sleep deprivation crisis is looming.
There are only two grams of crystal meth, a half bottle of Jack Daniel’s, one bottle of Absolute,
twenty Silk Cut and £26.58 of the recording budget left,
and only Lemmy is close to completing an album. He has written and recorded seventeen songs,
while Bobby has written eight, recorded three, and is trying to find someone to remix the first track.
After a massive struggle, Andrew has finally managed to obtain a satisfactory mix in his headphones
and is listening to the one hundred and fifty vocal takes of his first track.
Already, we have seen the hours of introspective lows that follow a really serious drug binge,
which these men are surely on,
now the paranoia and delusions are setting in.
Eldritch has cut his own hair and appears to believe that he’s Travis Bicks from Taxi Driver.
Here’s what happened earlier when he went up against Lemmy for a line and the big man
decided he wasn’t taking any guff from the swine.
Eldritch: Are you talking to me? Are you talking to me?
Lemmy: Damn right I am, m*therf*cker! I’m the dirtiest, fastest, hardest bastard in the history of rock ‘n’ roll.
Nobody’s drunk or snorted as much as I have and is still here to brag about it.
That line is mine you little fag!
Bobby: Chill out guys. This is exactly what the Man wants.
It’s all part of His nasty nazi plot to control us.
The Main Cop is out to nail us because we know the truth.
We need to make a stand, send the people a sign, something that will unite them against all the syphilitic,
sick little whores in government.
We gotta make them pay. We should, should, yeah…That’s it! Let’s bomb the Pentagon!
Eldritch: I ain’t even gonna rise to that.
remain in the studio; Lemmy, Andrew Eldritch and Bobby Gillespie.
I am your host, Hunter S. Thompson.
After a massive two hundred and fifty-seven hours of sleep deprivation crisis is looming.
There are only two grams of crystal meth, a half bottle of Jack Daniel’s, one bottle of Absolute,
twenty Silk Cut and £26.58 of the recording budget left,
and only Lemmy is close to completing an album. He has written and recorded seventeen songs,
while Bobby has written eight, recorded three, and is trying to find someone to remix the first track.
After a massive struggle, Andrew has finally managed to obtain a satisfactory mix in his headphones
and is listening to the one hundred and fifty vocal takes of his first track.
Already, we have seen the hours of introspective lows that follow a really serious drug binge,
which these men are surely on,
now the paranoia and delusions are setting in.
Eldritch has cut his own hair and appears to believe that he’s Travis Bicks from Taxi Driver.
Here’s what happened earlier when he went up against Lemmy for a line and the big man
decided he wasn’t taking any guff from the swine.
Eldritch: Are you talking to me? Are you talking to me?
Lemmy: Damn right I am, m*therf*cker! I’m the dirtiest, fastest, hardest bastard in the history of rock ‘n’ roll.
Nobody’s drunk or snorted as much as I have and is still here to brag about it.
That line is mine you little fag!
Bobby: Chill out guys. This is exactly what the Man wants.
It’s all part of His nasty nazi plot to control us.
The Main Cop is out to nail us because we know the truth.
We need to make a stand, send the people a sign, something that will unite them against all the syphilitic,
sick little whores in government.
We gotta make them pay. We should, should, yeah…That’s it! Let’s bomb the Pentagon!
Eldritch: I ain’t even gonna rise to that.
