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Draplin Design Co., North America
April 11, 2004
Posted at 11:32 PM


Oh man, the MC5 documentary….whoa. What a different time. Detroit was burning. The counterculture was speaking out and getting beat down by police.

These five guys were a pure sonic assault. They were dangerous on the stage and off. They “played” the ’68 Democratic Convention in Chicago, finishing up moments before the deadly riots broke out.

“Motherfucker.” That word alone would get you arrested and torn off the stage. And of course, Tyner would start the show with the loudest, clearest, “Kick Out The Jams, Motherfucker!” precisely directed at the Michigan State Police circling behind the crowds. Think about that for a second.

I spoke with my mom about them this morning. She laughed and said, “Oh yeah, the MC5…wow.” She saw them at the Grande Ballroom once, and attended the infamous “Love In-Turned-Riot” at Belle Isle. This was heavy shit back then. People were afraid to attend their shows.

My mom attended MC5 shows. That is some cool-ass shit.

There Are 3 Comments

Motor City Five. Fucking rock and roll, Draplin. We are on the same page on this one. Life doesn’t get any better than the sublime juxtaposition of cold beer, hot girls, a shitty dive bar, and Rocket Reducer.

- jpb

Posted by: Johnny Fucking Bowles on 04/12/04 at 12:31 AM

Among some of the “coolest-ass-shit” I own is the original LP from this pioneer-punk-alternative-rock group, MC5, where you can hear that wonderfully amazing, anti-establishment phrase, “Kick Out The Jams, Muthafuckers”……later issues of the same lp had the am-radio-acceptable “Kick Out The Jams, Brothers and Sisters”…..(like they’d ever get played on AM)

This was back when FM radio was commercial-free and heavily influenced by what we called alternative rock. FM radio, specifically WABX in Detroit, played many actual album cuts…..those long, drawn-out versions of “Light My Fire”, “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida” (Iron Butterfly), “Fire” (Arthur Brown), “Long Way Home” (Traffic)……great memories! Now FM radio is the norm, nothing like the 60’s. Glad I survived it all…..

Posted by: momma d. on 04/12/04 at 7:10 AM

the room was five feet from mine. two small beds and some piece of shit power computing machine which kept running out of power. It had Dinosaur junior stickers that were always a little too greasy—if u know what I mean. And all through the night I could hear Draplin and his roommate and best bed buddy: the arayan academic, who hated just about everybody in existence—including jews of which I am one —having digested enough matzoh to feed all the damn dreadlocked NADARtarians living on belmont st. Anyway, Draplin every night yelling at B “shut up what do u know” then B yelling: ” u dont even read u just make those F*ckin’ stickers.”

Two losers lost in the middle of the midnight sun arguing about how dumb each other was. Meanwhile me and poor matt leonard with his red thinning hair that he used too much hair spray on every morning trying to stick b5 and b6 hairs down. Let me explain that matt had some kind of mason-like secret governmental grid design plan that he used to make sure every actual hair had some stick’um on it and then he would push it down cementing it forcefully on his head. I’d be knocking on th door for 20 minutes so i could clean my butt because of all the cheap beer i was drinking in anchorage was seriously make a little butt fire every morning. And the girl i was seeing or burping with once got mad at good ole draplin and when we did not have any keys to get in she opened up Draplin’s window and stepped on his bed with very muddy sneakers leaving tred marks all over his pillow and sheets. But i am getting different years mixed up with different stories of all the suffering I was forced to endure. Oh the sight of Drap in his boxers in the heat of anchorage squirming around on his blow up mattress—the sound of his skin sticking and then ripping up and out with wet sweat suction. I have been harmed greatly. I have had cheese thrown at me and when he sees me now he comes up to me makes a fist and fakes like he is gonna hit me. Oh all the same riffs of the same old uncle tupelo songs that Drap has fantasized to himself so in love with the lead singer. I Hear his newest project is to be called “Sideburns of Jay” 45 poetical odes illustrating one man’s love for another’s insurgent country face hair.

Why cant matt leonard get mad
Matt annoying habit of making sardine bagels sandwhiches with a whittling knife.

Posted by: fred green on 04/13/04 at 11:23 AM