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Also this issue: Polite Madness Monsters, Ink On The Money Change Is Good |
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February 6-12, 2003
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No longer the kind of guy to coldcock a concert-goer like G.G. Allin, Henry Rollins has learned to considerably focus his fury since his salad days. Yet his reputation as an arrogant, caffeine-fueled madman continues to precede him. If Henry the hulking vocalist for Rollins Band and Black Flag resembles the 'roid-ripping dude at the gym no one dares disrespect, Henry the punk poet is a bookwormish Jello Biafra with a six-pack. A Rollins in the Wry (Quarterstick), his 11th spoken-word LP, culls material from two performances in Los Angeles' Café Luna. Charismatic and on point, Rollins convincingly rips apart politics, pop culture and social constructs like a seasoned satirist. As he has on other nonmusical ventures (books, TV appearances, films -- well, maybe not films), Rollins shows how testosterone can be used to open minds rather than to crack skulls. Now if only he'd march into the Oval Office and tell Georgie what America's smartest meathead thinks about how red, white and blue doesn't run.
Thu., Feb. 6, 9 p.m., $19.50, The TLA, 334 South St., 215-336-2000.
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