He who lives by the sword, also lives across the street

The night my neighbour pulled a sword on me started off quietly enough, or about as quietly as it could living in a flat in a rundown part of town. There were always varying levels of noise. Arguments heard through thin walls were accepted and endured with all the grace I could manage. Boyracers tearing…

All About Kittie: Remembering Spit

I swore to everyone in my circle of friends that the future of rock music could be found on an album named Spit. Kittie, a feminine word that belied a decidedly loud band, were the new Hole. They would bent and bash inflexible Metal into exciting new shapes; they were IT and I loved them.…