Axemen fan fiction
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I often wondered if the stories they print on these pages are true or just made up by a bunch of horny youths frustrated at not getting any action – that is, until we went thru Nashville and met ‘the wild one’, Miley Cyrus.
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http://houselist.bowerypresents.com/2009/12/it’s-the-end-of-the-year-as-we-know-it/ As 2009 comes to a close, The House List’s writers and photographers (and editor) take a look back at the year that was. Check back tomorrow for our year-end photo gallery. My Top Five 7″ Tour Singles I’ve always loved that for the price of a drink, bands sometimes go the extra distance for their…
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(reprinted from the website of Wexner Center for the Arts, Columbus Ohio – home of Times New Viking) 9PM Sat 14 Feb ’09 For our closing party for the exhibition Andy Warhol: Other Voices, Other Rooms—and to celebrate Valentine’s Day—local breakout band Times New Viking play their own versions of the eternally lovable tunes of the Velvet…
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At the recent MONSTER GIG at Christchurch’s glamorous crumbling Media Club, Bill Vosburgh handed Kawowski a single A4 sheet with a few paragraphs written on it all in capitals, relating to his earliest recollections of THE AXEMEN days in Christchurch (1983-1987). Luckily he stuck around and performed an incendiary blues rock set that night, as…
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Man these guys are way out better than Ginsberg and Kerouac ever did these guys were on the road before the road was the road can you dig it? so, we pulled up 6:15AM at the diner and all i had was two quarters in my pocket The tank was on empty and me and…
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Steve, Bob and Stu were jogging round the band rotunda as usual on a chilly but glorious crisp Christchurch day, tossing around a genuine cowskin rugby ball red and black of course being the Canterbury colors, with a faded PineTree Meads signature on it indicating it had been around, dropping it to the foot on…
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A memory of ‘The Tour Days’ It was the end of the seventies, the start of the eighties in fact, I remember just like it was yesterday, a frightened 15-year-old struggling into my clown costume to raise the spirits of my brothers and sisters in the struggle, too poor to afford a motorbike helmet so…
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Rubbing the crusty yellow crystals off his nose and stretching his arms out, Bob Brannigan awoke. Brushing off the gaggle of female admirers which had been trying to settle in his hair since last night, he wandered across the dancefloor of the Miners Bar and Grill (rarely more than half-full because of the confusing “NO…
The AXEMEN's Y2K Blog 