Just a little egg loving earlyish in the morning

If, like me, you enjoy a good booze up, then you'll know there ain't nothing better than consuming something egg-based and greasy the morning after. Here's three recent classics. My eyes, bottom and mouth are watering just looking at them. Huuuh...



Chips - savage.



Artful splashing of sauce



The Macdaddy

Berlin ain't ready

Our trip to Berlin started with 45 minutes fitful sleep and perhaps the worst Wetherspoons breakfast ever. But it became muchos better. We were flying over for the German leg of the Warp20 parties and, unsurprisingly, it was totally off the hook. Little sleep, maximum booze, the constant playing of 'fives' - even sightseeing and visiting a Christmas market.

Plus we raved it up at Berghain/Panorama bar for the electronic hoe down. We left after a breakfast of jager and it was still going strong. The great Andrew Weatherall, Rustie, Hudson Mohawke and Sheffield's Winston Hazel were all representing. You can't take cameras into the club but it was almost too strong to mention. Power station vibes, music loud enough to knock you over and never ending techno. Weatherall's moustache was looking pretty cocksure while Winston Hazel kicked off about half six and went all bleepy on our ravy arses.

The next day involved more boozing and eating before manning up and heading downstairs for a spot of djing in the bar below our apartment with the aforementioned Winnie. Safe as fook mate. We heard more about the intricacies of Weatherall's facial hair, drank even more, danced til half five, snatched 45 minutes kip before stumbling into a taxi to the airport. I was probably drunk on that flight. It was amazing and the following day was one full of despondence. Classic Icarus vibes.



Drinking Sex on the beach. In a dark bar with a fake beach.



The beach. That sand gets everywhere.



Enjoying a delicious takeaway.



Discussing tactics behind fives and the cons of eating red meat just before bed



A loser of fives. Man up.



The beautiful artwork above the bed. Not fear inducing at all. No way.



Hot boozing.



Pining for Wurst



The Wurst arrives



Cafe Einstein. The best eggs ever.



Chicken. Not children.



Knock off jager. The only way to warm up for the all night German rave.



Post energy drink flex.



Pope Benedict XVI. As a baby. Germany does it better.



Meh.

Fucking Squire

If you ain’t aware, the Squire of Gothos is not a dandyish fopp but a pair of South Yorkshire bass aficionados, whose self-destructive way of enjoying demselves is akin to how their music sounds. Despite being disproportionately matched in physical terms, the pair have an equally large love of getting in a tangle as well as making fast rave music with basslines big, bad and heavy enough to take yer cheeks off.



Described by one internet nerd as “meaner than Arnold Schwarzenegger on LSD“, the pair’s train of thought appears to follow the a nihilistic notion - what’s the point in doing anything by halves when you can drain a bag of strong shit and buy another three while you’re at it. Check the sound of Triple Drop, Pass Dem Poppaz and I Only Wanna Be With Bass. This is hyperactive stooped music which I could be getting too old for.



They describe demselves on their MySpace thusly… - “Free parties in graveyards. Happy hardcore on downers. Electro House’s Evil brother. Speed Garage nights with more violence. Dubstep with less nerds and harder drugs. Hitting a woman copper in the face with a cro-bar.” Lovely.

We met the Squires through throwing the Rough Disko parties in Sheffield. They turned up with their crew and got as wrecked as we did. Subsequently they became regulars at our soiree, and played a mean set to 60 or so fuck heads in November 2008. We drank our own body weight in Stella, Tich donned a Danger Mouse costume and I had to be carried home. We saw them again at Bang Face earlier in the year and the vibe had a similar sordid glow. It was amazing and resulted in me wearing a German army helmet some time around breakfast on the Sunday morning. Messy times fer sure.

The pair have upped the ante during 2009 and are looking at even bigger tings for 2010 - a US trip, more dates in Europe and a tonne of releases coming our way. If you’re looking for reference points, perhaps check the likes of Raffertie, Kanji Kinetic, A1 Bassline - all fellow bass mongers the Squires have shared bills and parties with. This interview was conducted with Al just the other week and here is the whole thing verbatim - It seemed too ridiculous to chop up too much…

Q. How did you two idiots meet?

A. “Al is from Gleadless, Tich is Chesterfield Murdah Squad. We met up at the 2005 Olympic sized bong smoking contest. Tich asked Al if he wanted to play in band that “sounded like negative approach” - We’ve made music together ever since.”

Q. When did you start putting on raves in Sheff? You seem to have come out of nowhere or out of a scene that I wasn’t aware of when I was in the city…

A. “We roll with a bunch of jungle obsessed youngers who’ve been putting on parties for a few years in mostly illegal settings. So much sketchy stuff has been seen and done, it’s untrue. The guys have a bit of crazy rep as parties normally end up proper nutty. I have personally taken a diazepam for epileptic dogs and during the same session watched a good friend take a diazepam suppository. Hold tight Dog Pillz, Plattapussy and Dubplatehoven!”

Q. Music seems to be spilling out of you two at the minute - Kid 606, Kanji Kinetic based business - what have you got on the horizon…

“It’s good to do stuff for people you respect and we’ve got some stuff coming out on various labels. I think our horizon is on some serious Kevin and Perry go Large type shit!”

Q. Anyone you’d cite as influences? Who’s wetting your musical whistle at the minute?

“Tich would probably say 2 Unlimited (no joke). I’d reckon our biggest influence is probably weed but music wise right now i’d have to say DJ Pantha, old jungle, Youngsta or any mid nineties, ignorant east coast gangsta rap. Anything on Hyperdub, Hessle Audio, Gully Gang but mostly old shit to be honest!

Q. Electronic producers get all wet over Sheffield - Warp, birthplace of ‘bleep’, Human League and all that - Do you guys hold any truck with dis vibe? Or is it something you don’t even think about?

“Of course we’ve been buzzing offa Warp for a long time now. I have a few of the old bleepy shits on record while my copy of Sweet Exorcist’s CCEP has the price sticker from the Warp shop still on it! I was talking to some guy at work the other day and we got onto music and it turned out he loves a bit of his hardcore electronic styles. He was amazed that I knew about the Cabs and Sheffield’s pedigree. It’s nice to know we have a cool musical heratige here, the type that can bring generations together. I wonder what the old heads are making of the bassline explosion haha!”

Q. Bangface, Holland and the US - the gigs are getting bigger - is it all through MySpace/Blogs that all this hype is building? And are you excited about Bang Face? I would be…

“Basically we are two scruffy, slack mash heads. Why people want to book us to play their parties I don’t know but while the going’s good, it’s on! The internet has got us where we are today with people checking MySpace and giving us love on blogs/mixes. We have never really much put effort into getting a set which is pretty mad. Bang Face is going to be really real, the lineup for next year is shit hot. We’ve been to both weekenders so far so it’s a privilege to be doing it!”

Q. I checked out the Youtube footage of the Squire - and read a few bits and bobs about the episode - one website said the Squire “is essentially a naughty child who has overstepped his bounds” - almost too true?

A. “Very true indeed, a naughty child who has raided his nan’s medicine cabinet haha!”

Check their thoughts on the Myspace or blog - find them hither and thither

Pig’s Ear Real Ale Festival

Intoxicating experiences are ten a penny round here but when we visited the Pig’s Ear Real Ale Festival in Hackney, drinking reached another level. The do was a five day celebration of all things ale related and hosted by beer bores or saviours depending on how much you like yarns and or morris dancers - CAMRA.

The vibe was full on sausage fest - on entering we were faced with a room full of portly men in short shorts. I’ve never been in a room full of so many people which felt so lonely. This is where the single man goes to die. A twisted future vibe I don’t think I want to contemplate too much.

The crucial aspect of the festival was the beer - never have I tasted such a variety of potions and brews. We kicked off proceedings with a half of the Dark Domination. Palatable and none too heavy. Then a dose of Arthur’s Ale from the Avalon Brewery - a Tolkien-esque number which tasted like Tolkien himself might do at this stage - stiltony and a bit off. Our third had the flavour of chronic while another resembled frankfurters which one member of our party spilled down himself.

After a few halves, we took down a delicious cheese sandwich and began hobnobbing with the men in charge of what could have quite reasonably been one of the largest pasties in the entirety of the UK.

The vibe rapidly fell apart once we started hitting the plus ten per cent ales - including a Night on Mare Street - a self reverential local Hackney drank. Skittles and one Oliver Reed t-shirt purchase later we found ourselves in Wetherspoons. It ended in the flat shouting at each other sometime before 2 in the am. The next morning was one of the worst I’ve enjoyed for the entirety of 2009. Which is saying something. Serious.



The tee-shirt stall. The CAMRA crew sure can laugh at themselves



A cheese sandwich



The biggest pasty in the world?



Encore for the pasty - It's beautiful enough to marry

Mickey Rourke and me

I still can't be sure whether this is Mickey Rourke or just an alcoholic who gave a convincing impression. I guess I'll never know.

Just a Birmingham ting

Birmingham crew Bigger than Barry just might have the sharpest name for a club night in the land. The Barry in question is Barry Austin - once the fattest man in the UK. Claiming to be bigger than him can mean only one ting - you reckon you’re colossal. This poor dude has subsequently slimmed down since his bigger days - by comparison the club night named after him has only become fatter, spreading its weight out of Brum and squishing Leeds, Sheffield and even Ibiza. Big.

We ventured out of the capital up to Barry’s original home of Birmingham for the Major Lazer do. One of the advantages of attending Barry’s shindig is the venue - the Rainbow Warehouse is a suitably mucky location and gives off an intoxicatingly strong vibe. So strong that it works its magic before you’ve even entered. When we spilled from the taxi outside the hoedown signs of disarray were in their plenty. One young man was rolling around in his own sick. It must be a Birmingham ting.

When we entered hype man of the moment LVis 1990 was bouncing away behind the wheels pushing his emaciated bassline house sound. Proper rave music which wear boots for the jungle with enough rubber and meat to give you a solid kicking. He terminated his performance by dropping Inner City’s Good Life and hopefully followed it with a hot meal. The man looks like I imagine anyone dining out on the George Michael diet of Starbucks and weed might. Scrawny.

Major Lazer were up next and slightly disappointingly only one half of the blazer wearing DJ and production team had made it. Diplo was representing whereas Switch was nowhere to be seen. I’m not sure where the nearest Wetherspoons to the Rainbow is but it’s possible he may have had his head under the taps. Who knows. Despite missing the drunker half, Diplo carried the show with a crack team of dancers racing through dubstep heaving and crunked up renditions of the Major Lazer album. Hold the line.

Post Diplo the whole thing disintegrated. Toddla T turned up, we indulged in more energy drinks and gave T-Willy the requisite ear bashing. Snakes. Post club the mash up continued into Saturday. We watched the Villa game and Airplane and ate some of the driest southern fried chicken I’ve ever consumed. 18 pieces at a discount rate. One of our party was so into it that he sucked the bones dry. Disgusting…

Big tune

So much fresh vibes to stick up on here. Can't get enough of this Revenge tune though. It's keeping tings sane... Look out for the drop. It's bigger than big...