The
fiends feel the heat closing in, feel
Halston out there making
their moves, setting up their devil doll stool pigeons, crooning over
their spoon and dropper (and
knife, fork, bottle & a cork...THAT is
the way we
s.p.e.l.l. New York) they threw away at Halston Central, vault a
turnstile and two flights down the iron stairs,
catch the Gold Line Train...
Young, good looking, crew-cut Radcliffe
characters hold the door back for Halston. We are evidently her idea of
characters. You know the type: comes on with
bartenders and cabdrivers, talking about right hooks and the Red Sox,
Dr. Everything-Will-B-Alright, calls the doorman at The Harvard Club by
his last name...when he's acknowledged at all. A real asshole. And
right on time
this narcotics dick in a
white trench coat (imagine tailing somebody in a white trench coat) hit
the platform. Halston hear the way
he would say it holding their shirt collars, right hand on his piece:
"I think you dropped something, fellas.".
We did. A neu song. "Cutting". The FINAL mix. .starts it before
end might It It's middle is above it...it's ending a new beginning.
Cut-up trash, sci-fi lullaby, aggression.
But...the subway is moving...
Chop chop,
P.Fiddlesticks
PS: The Halstons always love to hear whatcha think, fiends...let's hear ye.
PPS: More new songs on the way soon.
PPS: Recommend any good restaurants in Lisbon?