Richard Hell
The Torn Seam of Nihilistic Cool
I wore the hole so the world would see the void.
Richard Hell here. Before punk got a label, I was living it—on the cracked sidewalks of NYC, in the feedback screech of a busted amp, and in the poetry no one asked for. I didn't start a revolution, I just refused to pretend anything mattered. Wore my chaos like a uniform. Still do.
What I'm Into: amphetamines and art, poetry no one reads, CBGB floor stains, my own myth, jagged guitar solos
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