Today I Mourn A Stooge

Check out my Crawdaddy!-approved Ron Asheton eulogy. Here’s a sample for the discriminate link clicker:

I remember hearing ‘No Fun’ for the first time on the house sound at Side One Records, the hippest record shop in all of Volusia County, one otherwise stupid afternoon during my freshman year of college. It made me want to put on the darkest sunglasses I could find, clap my hands, and nod my head with my mouth open like a mental patient whacked out on rhino tranquilizers. It was that good. This vinyl copy of The Stooges was priced at $15—I think it was some kind of collector’s item because Dave Alexander had farted on it or some shit. I wasn’t about to pay that, but the cavalier soul of ‘No Fun’ stuck with me. How could it not? That riff was, as a Vermont hippie might say, so crunchy.”

If the Flower Children did anything right, it was appropriating “crunchy” for adjective use outside the food world. Thank you, filthy jerks.

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