Monday, 26 November 2012

TNGHT was the night

If you've got your finger anywhere near the pulse of contemporary dance, then your ears will be well familiar with the electronic thump of TNGHT, the new(ish) collaboration from Scotland's Hudson Mohawke and Canadian dude Lunice. The pair are the hype men of the moment and we went along to their recent London show in Bethnal Green to see what the freaking fuss was all about.

It's not surprising that these two are held in high esteem. Their live sets is a big look - the duo managed to steer nimbly around the more masculine moments of 'thugstep' and ensure they kept it low for the ladies but without losing any oomph. The pair pack a right old musical punch and we had a right old time - the only slight dampener was the fact it was a school night. Oofff...

Check out the lunch I had to counter the day after's hang...

And do it while listening to TNGHT - this is what all the fuss is about...

Read my review of TNGHT's live show for Hyponik here


Keep those late summer vibes alive

'Fun times off line' have been very much on the agenda for the '012 - but here's a little snapshot of summer's tail round our ends. As you can see from the images on display, it's been your standard foody tour of all things high and lowwwww...

Morning after the balloon party

Turkish breakfast
Seafood barbecue flex

crazy golf on the roof of Selfridges

Moving day
'Totes' = 'dicks'
Fish Finger butty with crisps
Salmon bagel on a sunny day
Chess tings
Welcome to pie town
Tarty warty
Free work lunch

The future of ice cream
Subliminal messaging
DJ business at the tiki party
Freddie Mercury tribute act @the Misty Moon
All killer no filler
Notting Hill
Culinary mastery
Muscle kissing
Work breakfasts smash it every time

Tuesday, 20 November 2012

The Wedding of the decade

Weddings always honk of good vibrations - and the one we attended back at the fag end of August was no exception. Our buddies Chris and Zen were getting hitched and had requested that myself and regular Homebase customer and one time disco punk Def Stef man the ones, the twos and maybe even the threes to provide the soundtrack. This was earlier in the year, and meant that many of the moments inbetween times had been spent contemplating what to play and where to get that tuneful mother from. I asked the Idjut Boys back in June what one should play at a wedding bash - they suggested it would be a worthwhile notion to play music from adverts. It was a tip I took the liberty of ignoring…

By the time the big day came, we were armed and potentially dangerous - we had records, bow ties (which turned out to be too taxing to put on but the intention, if not the wherewithal, was there) and a Pret breakfast in our clammy paws when we boarded the train. Luck was also on our side as we bagged the best seats in the house right next to the bogs - there was plenty of leg room and enough space for his Defness to sew on a button and get a stain on his delicious looking shirt.

Our day time business ran like the bowels of a man with a runny case of gut rot - somewhat loosely. The train took us into the heart of Norfolk with just enough time to catch our lift and land at the venue (Titchwell Manor - check it here) - then cue an hour of panic - we were faced with wires and wires and stuff that had to go on the end of the wires for sound to come out. Thankfully, Stef is a man who loves wires and accompanying ‘stuff’ and after a slightly sweaty, frantic time we had sound and five minutes to prepare our wardrobes.

The important stuff went beautifully - almost - the bride and groom were successfully unified and we were soon nomming on champagne and slurping on mojito mousse in the palatial gardens of the venue. The drinking and general tomfoolery was also large. Unfortunately we enjoyed ourselves so much that by the time we got to DJ I was seeing a few things over than records. Mainly big, fat pint pots rippling with lager.

Despite us both being a little all over the shop, Stef did a mint job of holding our musical show together and ensuring the wedding party got their collective groove on big time. We played a selection of bangers, had a mild tiff over the suitability of playing Imagination’s Just An Illusion before passing out in our room with the single beds pushed together.

The next day started off groggily but went on to be just as big - albeit in a different way - a bloody mary and tight fry up for breakfast, a stroll on the Norfolk beaches, a cig in the dunes, a spot of sand castle building before a slab of barbecue in the garden of the parents of the groom. Props to the groom’s dad - he barbecued some immaculate meat and even allowed us to play the Kiss the Fist podcast to the selected attendees.   

Nice one again to the bride and groom for letting us play - it was a mint do - and props to everyone we saw and met and drove us around Norfolk with a shitload of records in our paws. We had a right time... 

Road Trip
Nice seats
Sewing flex
The hobs are on mate
It's a groom ting
The set up
Thanks guys
The day after
Bit baked on the beach
Playing the Kiss the Fist podcast at the post-wedding bbq - result!

Monday, 5 November 2012

Edinburgh festival

The Edinburgh Festival is Scotland's annual celebration of all things arty, farty, dramatic, theatrical and supposedly funny. I say 'supposed' as when we went up at the start of August during 'festival frenzy', it felt like many of the chumps we caught plying their wares had left their sense of humour at the door. After boarding an early flight, we were in the Scottish capital by noon and predictably in the pub soon after. The vibe it turns out is that everyone thinks they're a comedian. If you're not on the stage, then you're sitting in the audience hurling insults at strangers. It's quite something to feel the red heckling mist descend and get caught up in a slanging match with some berk on stage. But lager really is a confidence booster in this regard - and we drank an ocean of it over the four days we were there.

The best or possibly worst thing we saw was Keith the Anger Management Koala - not wanting to spoil the surprise but this dude was an irate Australian in a Koala suit with an acoustic guitar strapped to his back. He spent most of his 'set' screaming the word 'cunt' and bashing the living bejesus out of his poor instrument. He has to be seen to be believed. Is it funny? It's difficult to say but you can read his blog here and make up your own minds...

Obligatory airport breakfast pint
Balls to you
Edinburgh's airport car park - keeping it fresh
Steezey weezy
Edinburgh supper
Haggis and ting
Monkey business
More horse play
Accordians do not make men funny
Hog flex