Classic Is Your Friend

'Things that go bump in the night' is a phrase usually set aside for Halloween and the ghoulish and the ghastly. But it could also serve as a neat tag line for Classic Records and the line of thumping house music they've been pushing since the label opened its doors back in 1995. Manned by two house music heroes, Derrick Carter and Luke Solomon, Classic has proved to be a platform for injecting some of club music's finest moments into both ears and dance floors. Think Sneak's 'You can't hide from your bud' and Metro Area's Pina plus equally fruity electronic business from the likes of Swag and Matthew Herbert.

After a brief hietus following the 100th release, the pair recently decided to re-boot the label via digitising the back catalogue and making it available for all. And to celebrate, they've been running a series of parties under the banner of 'Classic is Your Friend'. We attended the one in London which was conveniently situated at a warehouse space in Hackney Downs, just a hop, skip and a stumble from our hood. In fact, the very same space where we'd got down to Oneman and his Standard Place crew just t'other week.

The vibe for this bash was much more housey and less hoods up compared with Oneman's bash. But the main room was where it was at - smoke - music - dancing - smoke - music- dancing - smoke -music -dancing - smoke. Rob Mello was dropping some seriously warm business to begin with while the smoke started to billow but it was the big DC who really showed the place what was what. He played a blend of uplifting housey house with the odd bit of disco lobbed in for good measure. But the beats were well bendy and matched our bendy feet until we couldn't bend dem limbs no more. Then it was time to retreat back to the gaff (after a brief skirmish with a shopping trolley) to keep the bend bending. Mint. Bendy. Night.

This mix from DC was the sound track to the warm up and the warm down. Still can't stop giving it some...

DERRICK CARTER - The Oki-Ni Hot Lunch Mix by Elite Music Management

Kiss the Fist vs a school night

Kiss the Fist returns to the London Fields pub turntables this Thursday evening for a four hour excursion into the electronic cosmos. Friday nights down at the Fields have been the scene of many disco crimes, much memory loss and subsequent paranoid hiding underneath the metaphorical duvet. It's a school night and work is definitely on the cards the following day so hopefully behaviour won't get as unhinged as previous outings. However, never say never....

Box Jams Volume Oneeee

If your heart beats to the electronic sound of the Hague or the cosmic wizardry of the Motor City, then you need this first Box Jams mix in your ears. Put together by our Sheffield buddies Juliun and Pat (of C90 and Rough Disko notoriety respectively) it's an hour plus run through a collection of jacking and acidic computer music. It's got some right monsters on here. I've been bumming it for the past few hours and doing some moves in the kitchen which are attracting some weird looks off the nosier neighbours. Fuck them. They've obviously never felt the full force of the Severed Heads. If you're in Sheffield, then they're throwing a do this Friday. Check their business here...

Box Jams Volume One by boxjams

They should be taken outside and shot

While the past eight or nine weekends have been full of wild times, the weekday evenings have been somewhat more sedate and bluesy. Just tied myself to the stool in the kitchen and devoured as much musical business as possible. Here are the fruits of ze labours...

Click here for Hyponik review of Sepalcure's self titled debut album



Click here for Hypoink review of Dave Clarke's Fabric mix



Click here for Hyponik review of Space Dimension Controller's Pathway to Tiraquon 6



Click here for a Stool Pigeon review of Mosca's The Wavey EP



Click here for a Stool Pigeon review of R&S's IOTDXI compilation

A public inconvenience

I'm a big fan of bogs. Aka latrines. Aka 'the Kaiser'. Aka the WC. Indeed partaking in a gentleman's wee is one of life's largest pleasures. Mounting the porcelain is perhaps the best way to get a bit of space in which to strain, enjoy a read and think about what the fuck's going on out beyond the immediate confines of your four walled palace. Like Andrew Weatherall and Sean Johnston's club night, A Love From Outer Space, it's "an oasis of stillness in a world of ever increasing velocity". Or as the Stone Roses may or may not have said: "Stop the world. I'm getting on."

Public toilets are a wilder beast - there's summat much more feral about doing one's business in a room where the only thing separating oneself and other strangers is a few strip of chipboard. Plus there are other associated condiments. The glory holes. Will there be any paper on which to wipe? Then there's the potential threat of being on the wrong (or right) end of a 'cottaging'. Almost anything could happen.

Worries aside, a Friday evening just t'other week was hung around the opening of a toilet in the George and Dragon boozer on Hackney Road. Those chumps behind Sheffield fanzine Go had retiled the ladies as a lament/celebration to the plight of the public toilet. They'd done a fantastic job on the grouting in what must be one of the busiest and sweatiest pubs in the world. Not only was this a glorious load of arty lardy de dar but it was pretty adept at holding a tinkle. I took a leak in there and can confirm that as a toilet, it worked wonderfully. So it manages to both functional and art at the same time. Nuts innit? You can go and take a leak in there until Dec 14th.



This graffiti was on the toilet's wall - it wasn't me

Nando's - A journey to the largest in the west

To live by the chicken and to die by the chicken - it's probably better than a sword. Or at least not as sharp. Unless it's a bird with a particularly large beak. But what evs. The birds they serve up at Nando's are a particularly fine bunch. Especially as they've been frame grilled and soaked in the delicious Nando's juice. But I'm preaching to the converted. Everyone knows how good Nando's is. Last Thursday I had what Time Out would describe as an "eating epiphany" by way of an adventure out of the E8 post code to the new shopping extravaganza that is Westfield. Everything in this joint is massive. Everything. But the Nando's there is summat else. According to rumour and hearsay, this is the biggest eaterie they own. You see it from some distance when you're leering past La Senza and got half an eye on the window of Primark. You have to approach the beast via escalator. But the journey through the crowds and shit shops is worth it. You get there and basically immediately cream your pants. I wasn't even hungry but still managed half a bird, the traditional two sides and numerous refills of coke.

When the Nando's staff came over to collect our plates of bones she had to double check that she could take them away. Her explanation? "Some of the customers just like to sit here with the bones for a bit. One woman got really angry when I tried to take them away even though she had finished eating."

Nando's. Props. That's just how good you are. Suck those bones dry...



A feast



A call to arms