Monday, 30 November 2009

Sunday bloody Sunday

Hype day t’other Sunday. With the lagers of the past 48 hours equating to a blanket of bad taste and gloom, it was a day for manning up and taking the fear on the chin.

After aurally ingesting an injection of good cheer to the face via a viewing of Fantastic Mr Fox, we headed down to the Royal Festival Hall to catch a ‘free’ dubstep jazz session fronted by the chubby digi-skills of Bass Clef. It was a classic jazz culture hoe down on the South Bank. Coffees, kids, newspapers and earnest conversation. We sidestepped stretching the brain fabric in a philosophical direction and opted for the bar.

During our first pint we witnessed two dudes sitting in front of laptops plonking away at their keyboards - they wore masks while frantically typing out code live. Each letter and piece of typing equated to some form of skronking feedback while onlookers sat on bean bags and the floor bopping away to the ‘happening’. Groundbreaking? Not really. Boring? Perhaps. Idiotique? Defiantly.

The second ‘piece’ involved the projection of piano keys onto the back wall while carefully placed microphones reacted to the light from the keys to emanate sound. It was time for a bifta. If we hadn’t, then the levels of potential pretension could have become so engorged they threatened to blow the entire Festival Hall away. I’m all for a freak out but there needs to be something resembling a point. Purleaze.

When we were mildly zonged, Bass Clef ambled on with trombone, sequencers and armfuls of heaviness to blow the foam of our pints. It was top bottom heavy until the accompanying musicians attempted to join in. Even the Clef sarcastically announced “now it’s time for a journey”. Verve colloborator BJ Cole looked a little lost - come on grandad - this is bass music - not lullabies for twats -Thankfully most of the little shitty kids spent his set walking around with hands over their ears to add to the unreality of proceedings. .

On the way home we checked in with Greg Wilson at the Horse and Groom - the place was like Ibiza except at 6.30pm on a wet Sunday evening near Liverpool Street. Disco, drug deals and dancing were all going down - It was almost too much and meant an emergency stop for a happy meal en route home. Top conkers like but I’m a little pooped just thinking about it.

Joy Orbison - BRKLN CLLN

Here we go - BIG tune for the festive season to stuff inside yer turkey - South London's Joy Orbison gets all large and in charge on the follow up flex to Hyph Mngo. This is on a strictly need to know basis. Know it below... and read my oh so important thoughts on the matter underneath it... Big up...


Monday, 16 November 2009

Cut Copy nicked all their ideas from...

... Flock of Seagulls. I had no idea until last week - but even Ministry of Sound appeared to know - they're now getting in on the act by handily bagging up all electronic 80s needs in one handy compilation - you can find it in your nearest supermarche next to Susan Boyle thanks to the superbrand. Depressing?

This bitch can sing

Throughout the stealthy slope into autumnal times, my skin has been almost popping with the number of fresh mixes getting underneath it. Like a witch's itchy sleeve let me tell you. Too much time on one's hands? Purleaze. There's too much fresh sounding sonic science being brewed up. I need an extra mouth to slurp up all the shit that's raining down.

Despite all the aural gratification I've been getting, there ain't nowt like Skream's Stella session with fellow dubstep man Kutz to really put a smile across one's grizzled mug.

Maybe it's the sloppiness of the whole endeavour or Skream's incessant chat - Whatevs this Rufus and Chaka Khan one in particular is an absolute monster - Big tune? The size of an elephant. Go big or go home.

This really is it...

My tenure as an online sweatshop wordsmith came crashing to an end the other week. Fittingly it was almost 24 months to the very day since I went to an interview in a shit hotel in Leeds to be told that I could possibly end up writing news about platinum metals.

I laughed at the time but little did I know what the full horror would resemble. Marlowe and the inscrutable heart of darkness all come to mind.

The leaving do was on point. Astons, right in the shadow of our office, was the location. The website offers a flattering insight into a place which is as dingy as it is depressing. One can sit inside drinking becks watching pathetic bastards piss their wages up the wall thinking they're living life to the very full while spilling cocktails down their Next suits. G.R.I.M.

Perhaps predictably, we made the occasion much more euphoric by getting bang pissed. I accidentally dropped my leaving gift (the above mug) on the floor of the DLR on the return journey. The pinot grigio I received (how did my colleagues know?) is a drink best consumed when already drunk such is the fragrancy of its manky bouquet.

The chicken we wolfed down at 11pm possessed a healthy orange glow. I put it down to the all the corn it must have been brought up on. Almost too fresh.

We even managed to get Craggsy a shout out - The walking piece of protein behind the wheely deelys (who has been known to consume a pasty and chips while in the 'mix' - heroic behaviour) played Beyonce to celebrate Craig's 41st birthday. A big look for a leaving do. Bye bye now...

The carcasses of ten pounds worth of radioactive chicken

Breakfast - More chicken, this time as a sausage with reggae reggae. In. My. Face.

This is Mirinda - a refreshing bev with enough e-numbers to maim the throat of a small child

Sunday, 8 November 2009

Wax:On compilation review

I left my current job on Friday to pursue something which will hopefully be more fucking interesting. I did a last review for the shitty In the News website. It was so late that they almost didn't publish it but they have and here it is... Ramblings and rumblings on the Wax:On compilation...

Wax:On review here...

Wednesday, 4 November 2009

Tinny - Zingolo

Props to the Plat Du Jour blog for picking up on this... This is a rather large remix of the tune soundtracking the rather wonderful new Cadbury's advert.

is on the rerub of Zingolo's by Tinny. Check the remix here and the vid below... big looks all round...


We're heading to Berghain in December for the Berlin Warp20 party and have subsequently been doing some internet digging for info. It sounds like we're gonna experience Caligula style levels of decadence. A tough door policy, intense techno work outs and sex. Everywhere. Check out these two weighty essays on the club. I almost want to take up residence in there...

Saturday at Berghain

Daniel Wang's thoughts on Berghain