LEATHERED, STUDDED DUDES OR... JUDAS PRIEST?
Cows are very useful except in India. There are varying degrees of cow-use— milk, cheese, burgers, cheeseburgers—' but none so useful as the concealment and adornment of the puny human form with the bag the cow comes wrapped in. Shiny, tough, black, reflective, clinging, erotic leather.
LEATHERED, STUDDED DUDES OR... JUDAS PRIEST?
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Sylvie Simmons
Cows are very useful except in India. There are varying degrees of cow-use— milk, cheese, burgers, cheeseburgers—' but none so useful as the concealment and adornment of the puny human form with the bag the cow comes wrapped in. Shiny, tough, black, reflective, clinging, erotic leather. The stuff of Brando, Vicious, Faithfull, German bomber-pilots and Heavy Metal. There are varying degrees of metal, but none so abbatoired and leathered and heavy as Judas Priest.
But heck, you know them. No need to introduce them. On with this interview business.
“Rob,” I ask—this being Rob Halford, frontman, High Priest of Cow-use and Supreme Screamer. “Are you a gay rightwing biker into S&M?”
“Well,” chuckle the well-modulated Midland tones. “Well—that’s pretty much the way Judas Priest has looked for a number of years, isn’t it?”
Like anorexic bullocks romping through Nazi department store kitchenware sections, like bath-house Hell’s Angels, like—
“In actual fact we are changing the image somewhat on this world tour. We’ve decided,” says Rob, “to drop all the studs and the chains and the whips and the S&M things.”
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