Thursday, 31 May 2012

Always meet your heroes?

It's not often one's get chance to speak to a hero. So you can imagine how frothy with excitement I became when I wangled the opportunity to chat to one Andrew Weatherall and his current cohort Sean Johnston. I didn't need a new nappy when I found out the news. But it was close.  

A Love From Outer Space was the reason why - and for those not in the know, ALFOS is the night the pair lord over - and one which has been making ever bigger waves across the electronic cosmos. Initially run as a monthly do at the Drop (now known as the Waiting Room), the affair attracted an increasingly devoted hoard of nutters willing to risk the pain of a Friday hangover in exchange for a sublime evening of boogie and musical enlightenment.

Speaking to these two in person was a massive deal for me - I've been into Weatherall ever since my mum first suggested I listen to Primal Scream as a youth with terrible taste and spots. Since growing up and getting more into magic and techno, we've roamed across Europe to see him DJ. We've watched him play a huge range of DJ sets while in various states of disrepair - a dedication which culminated in clocking him and Johnson play on a boat in Croatia last summer... Naughty nautical balearic vibes... 

The interview itself was wicked - Weatherall emerged from his studio wearing his old man of the sea garms and proceeded to roll a large resin reefer which he consumed to himself throughout our chat. I didn't stutter (too much) and even made a joke. You can read the fruits of the collective labours below...

Monday, 28 May 2012


Oh yes - after weeks of moaning about the lack of sunshine, it's now possible that the UK has too much of it. That's if you listen to the chitter chatter rumbling through every office in the land. If it's not hot, then it's too cold - which is your standard British jibber jabber. What evs - The skin on the backs of my legs may have the hue of a particularly radioactive lobster but my ears are full of this new mix from Annie Mac - it puts a lot of what's currently aurally 'hot' in one handy place which you can enjoy while the weather gets even 'hotter'. Feel the burn motherfuckers!

Lucky Chip - you shouldn't have...

Burgers - every fucker in London, and I mean EVERY FUCKER, claims to offer the thickest, most mouth wateringly meaty treat you could ever stick in your gob. It's quite literally a meat market down in the capital - and if you don't consume the best burger ever before you snuff it, you haven't ever lived. Your meat needs to be the recipient of a corn-fed organic reach-around. If it ain't, then WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? I MEAN REALLY? WHO ARE YOU? 

Good job that despite all the woolly meat chat, the proof of the pudding is in the actual eating - and comments from Jules in Pulp Fiction seem pertinent - "Uuummmm, this is a tasty burger". Lucky Chip is such a purveyor of amazing meaty burgers - and lo, despite being sceptical of anything so 'nice', it really is a full on, no holds barred meat injection. You should do it. The Sebright Arms in Hackney is currently housing them at the minute - get 'em while they're hot... 

Thursday, 24 May 2012


One of the funniest bits to going away on a jaunt somewhere foreign and (preferably) hot is being unable to understand what the fuck people are banging on about. Which can be a refreshing if not some times frustrating vibe. I always use my hands in far jazzier ways when I'm in a place where English ain't the core verse. It doesn't get one anywhere but means your dangly limbs are getting a little more exertion than normal. What evs - but when tongues wag in a more mystical manner, instead of being wound up by the shite being spouted by those around you, a lot of verbalage sounds like it's been sprinkled in magic. A least a little bit.

It's also a vibe to pick up a phrasebook and learn how to ask for fags and beers in a strange new place (i.e Kent). Wonderful. When we journeyed to Barcelona, we made the illuminating discovery that the Spanish for a Magnum ice cream is pretty much the same as in English. But the word for cot is very different. That in itself is a total fucking vibe. 

Other highlights apart from the intricacies of language? There were many... seeing buddies old and new, visiting Wetherspoons at the airport on the way out and enjoying a fry up and a pint at a time when most sane folk are still tucked up in their boudoirs. Eating shitloads of fish. Going on a cable car - and surprisingly not totally shitting it. Betting on the Grand National. Eating a cheese only known as 'Number 2'. Playing darts. Fortunas. Getting a culture flex on and seeing some art and that. Having a very minor splish and a splash in the sea. 

The downside - having to come back. And go straight into work. 'Not the one'.

Spoons fry up - get in

Stone turtle on chill pill flex

Fancy fruit drink innit

Yes solider

A familiar and comforting sight

View from the cable car - it's high innit

Our vessel

Really enjoying a paella. Like really enjoying it

Cheesecake fake 'Magnum'

Magnum on the loose on the streets of Barcelona - pedestrians - Watch out!

Every piece of cheese is a hot fantasy. Every morsel.

Conclusive proof that we were in fact where we said we were