Babe Rainbow, Teenagers in Tokyo and the Tune-Yards on a Fact tip

I had no idea who Babe Rainbow was until Fact asked us to spin out some verse on his work. He is one the big things for Warp Records in 2010. And suitably eerie...

Check out what I had to say for myself over here...

I also had time to give Teenagers in Tokyo a slagging for being too shit here

Although the Horrors remix (to be streamed here) is surprisingly hype.

The Tune-Yards have also got daubed in my reviewery brush. Here's the flex on their latest release. The video is proper silly front room vibes as well...

Kiss the muscle

I've spent the week with my legs wandering about the place and these ears glued to the latest Aeroplane mix for January. And I can't get enough of these muscle kissing vibes.

Ali Love's new tune - Love Harder - is this dude's big sort of come back. He collaborated with the Chemical Brothers, was picked up by a major label and then unceremoniously dropped when his singles didn't do the business so to speak...

Whatever happens to him this time round, the Mighty Mouse remix is fresh yet fleeting. I'm anticipating being sick of it within a week. But for now - big tune...

Culinary delights

It's been a hectic trio of days in which shit, unhealthy food appears to have played a large part. Serious. I'm almost on first name terms with the chicken dealer at the bottom of the road while the lady behind the counter in Percy Ingle's reaches for the sausage rolls before my shadow has even darkened the door. Having an indepth knowledge of local pastry dealers wasn't one of my ambitions for my late twenties, but I guess that's just the way a chicken bake can crumble.

The shit fodder wasn't just a binge ting. Energy levels needed to be high due to being embroiled in a house move on Friday. Turns out that the new gaff is right in the thick of a vibrant rave ting. Whilst toasting the new household, we discovered a ridiculous party was going off in the building opposite. We spent a good hour watching wreckheads staggering around the street while vaguely attempting to catch the attention of James Ford from Simian Mobile Disco, who was djing at the do.

We didn't breach but it did look like a hype bash. Here's the jump off...

Video Portraits

Tesco in Hackney - Carribean style stodge at knocked down prices



A simple buttery, supper

A smidgy lunch

No artists in clogs please.

Mentioning SMD and food in the same breath is also a good excuse to embed this mother. When the Arctic Monkeys enjoyed a jolly knees up with PDiddy. It's still funny as fook and suitably uplifting for a bleak and cold Monday...

From the seat of Mount Olympus

After a while off it, we're back on the reviewing vibe. Greco-Roman put out this beautiful box set ting just the other week. It's top - Fact wanted some word vibes and here they are

January January

Despite the winter blues, it's been a strong month. We went to the Tate Modern, drank some extremely strong coffee, fallen down the stairs, smashed a vase, set off an airhorn, eaten a vindaloo and played numerous hands of shit head. Here's what it looked like



Thursday night is Vindaloo night



The parental fridge - Mainly liquids



Creepy wig child flex



Original kitchen man

Kiss the fist

Shepherd's Pie

Rip it up and attempt to start again...

The first half of January was spent wading through post-punk tome Rip It Up and Start Again. Put together by 'cultural commentator' (yuck) and Guardian contributor Simon Reynolds, it's a right diverting glimpse into a bleak era where popular music was frequented by people with more ideas than they knew what to do with.

Anyhoo, it turns out that one of the key bands in the book, Throbbing Gristle, used to live, rehearse and experiment with their genitals in a big house directly opposite where our residence is now. This is a band who scared off gypsies by embarking on a three-day improvised freak out. They used to fuck each other for kicks. And frontman Genesis P.Orridge has embarked up the biological cul-de-sac of disrobing bodice of anything resembling gender. Plus some of the tunes are proper future.Thanks to D-Steezey for pointing us in the direction of this little beaut. Big tune...

Drinking tops in the Crimean...

A cheeky post work pint during January is proper naughty. While the majority of sensibly minded folk retreat to their lairs and rape the Blockbuster membership, we somehow ended up drinking at Andrew Weatherall's local in the heart of Shoreditch. The vibe in there is more cold than Crimaen. Drinking inside was a past time almost as Baltic as standing on a hill in Iceland.

It's probably how the great man likes it. A pox on the heating! Let's get medieval, chew tobacco and discuss facial grooming and stories from the sea.

The great man was spotted in here minutes before I arrived by a reliable witness. And an extremely affable bar staffer informed us that Weathers usually pops in with his pug for a coke. If it's late, he might sling a few rums in it. What a man. To celebrate we became overly bashy and sourced some non-descript powder. What would Weatherall do? Naughty, naughty