This day in music history.
June 5, 2004, Robert Quine was found dead in his New York apartment. Robert was the guitarist with Richard Hell And The Voidoids, he also worked with Lou Reed, Brian Eno, Lloyd Cole, Tom Waits and They Might Be Giants. He was born December 30 1942. He had a law degree and practiced tax law for several years before giving it up for a career in music. He is best known as a punk rocker but he was also a gifted jazz and blues guitarists. Quine died of an intentional heroin overdose on Memorial Day. He had been despondent over the recent death of his wife. Robert once stated in an interview "By many peoples' standards, my playing is very primitive but by punk standards, I'm a virtuoso."
Dont Die by The Voidoids
I see the passionate who killed themselves with drink
Or drugs or speeding cars in order not to think
They must have felt like there was just nothing else to do
Oh why hast thou murdered those
who see the most in search of a true thrill or clue
Don't die, don't die, don't die, don't die...
There's something wrong here where the best ones want to go
Parker, Lautreamont, Monroe
they held it just to throw the world away
who were its grace before they left
To choose to have a point of view
oblivious that leaves the rest of us bereft
There I see the piercing eyes that look through
all until they see their back
There where any thought will think about itself
and that's the only fact
There a man has left just death, delirium, and drugs,
or feel the lack
The air is cool today the time is drawing near
My walls are white and so's my brain
afloat in self-made fear
A banal feeling of the sort
"I ain't insane"
No fate worse than to never leave yourself
and it's as well the most repulsive pain
The air is cool today that whistles through my ribs
My skull is full of sand that dribbles down upon my bib
I call out "Baby" but her face looks like a clock
Tick tock,
alive, triumphant victims so surprised
we can't recover from the shock
Me, I like a joke as much as anybody else
but some are rough
Yeah when the joke's on you though you're the joker too
you've had enough
Then though there is no one there,
because there's nothing there,
you call your bluff
Dont die, dont die, dont die...
Dont Die by The Voidoids
I see the passionate who killed themselves with drink
Or drugs or speeding cars in order not to think
They must have felt like there was just nothing else to do
Oh why hast thou murdered those
who see the most in search of a true thrill or clue
Don't die, don't die, don't die, don't die...
There's something wrong here where the best ones want to go
Parker, Lautreamont, Monroe
they held it just to throw the world away
who were its grace before they left
To choose to have a point of view
oblivious that leaves the rest of us bereft
There I see the piercing eyes that look through
all until they see their back
There where any thought will think about itself
and that's the only fact
There a man has left just death, delirium, and drugs,
or feel the lack
The air is cool today the time is drawing near
My walls are white and so's my brain
afloat in self-made fear
A banal feeling of the sort
"I ain't insane"
No fate worse than to never leave yourself
and it's as well the most repulsive pain
The air is cool today that whistles through my ribs
My skull is full of sand that dribbles down upon my bib
I call out "Baby" but her face looks like a clock
Tick tock,
alive, triumphant victims so surprised
we can't recover from the shock
Me, I like a joke as much as anybody else
but some are rough
Yeah when the joke's on you though you're the joker too
you've had enough
Then though there is no one there,
because there's nothing there,
you call your bluff
Dont die, dont die, dont die...
<>9:42 AM
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