Jurassic Park!

Dr Doolittle was a man who forgo interactions with humans in favour of administering love, care and conversation to animals. 'Trailblazer' some people might say. 'Pervert' others might declare. But whatever his true flex was, the notion that animals present a totally different allure to human beings is one that cannot be sniffed at. It's probably possible to watch a rhino taking a shit for as long as it takes for the task to be completed. Adopting the same voyeuristic persona with a human bean would definitely be less appealing.

So it's true dat that animals possess plenty of big, stinky, hairy vibes. And the best possible way to capture those vibes in one fell swoop is by taking a visit to the zoo. Just t'other week we did this by journeying up out of London and into the dark recesses of Dunstable to Whipsnade Zoo. I've no fucking idea where this is in relation to anything but you definitely need to get in a car, get on a motorway and fuck off northwards out of the capital.

This was my first jaunt to Whipsnade and it turns out that the place is much less of a zoo and much more of a safari style park - one can drive around, stop and get out to discuss how easy it would be to steal one of the animals. When we went, it seemed like it would have been almost too easy to p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-pick up a penguin, stick it in the boot and do one for the surrounding hills. We bottled it. Obvs.

Instead we chose the well-worn path of the gormless tourist and did our best to watch shitloads of beasts going about their daily business. Rhinos, elephants, zebras, lions, tigers, cheetahs, hippos, deer, wolves - you name it, we probably cooed at it and saw it taking a shit. I took a few choice snaps of our savage friends but my favourite part was when we attempted to drive past a pair of camels in the Passage of Asia. This is a bit of gravel path where you can drive through without getting out and go up close to nature's finest. Check the video footage after the photos for the site of a grown woman being sent into a melt down by a camel. In Whipsnade, no one can hear you scream...



Horny



Stick that in yer trunk son



A wild, hairy cow



Just like in Jurassic Park



Hippos love to shit in clean water



Camel attacks tree while we watch placidly



'Adult mooses live a solitary life' - true dat



The back end of a shy buffalo



An unloose moose not in a hoose



Watch yer sens



March of the mallards



Fake scat

Pinch - FabricLive61

Bristol bass dude Pinch has been a big man in the profession of speaker shaking for time. And his latest mix for Fabric is suitably large on road. It does a pretty fine job of joining the dots between dub, grime, jungle and soundsystem biznarse.

I trotted out some words for Hyponik here - Pinch Fabriclive 61 Review - and this Addison Groove banger is one of the biggest on there. Watch out...

Toronto-shaped dreams

Disposable cameras used to be a minor pinnacle of image-capturing technology. Overpriced, throwaway and like a red rag to the amateur cos you could just pick 'em up and immediately begin clicking. As part of a very minor experiment (and an attempt to busy my brain with increasingly less important and self-indulgent tasks) I acquired a couple of the bad boys when we did one to Canada last autumn.

In 'omage to Oneman, one of the best, tightest DJs spinning around the current block, I'm gonna 'bite' his notion and use a Tumblr platform for these disposable graphics. I'm pretty sure any images I post up will be about a million years less exciting but f.u.c.k. it who cares.

I also found these videos on my phone while having a little scroll through my memories of the big trip from last year. There are more but some are so incriminating I daren't put them on the Internet. It'll break.



Toddla T in Toronto



Canada's Wonderland

Krystal Klear and Olivier Daysoul make beautiful slow jam

Slow jammmmmzzzzz - Not the preserve but the sensually inclined calling of the horn. It's not often any true slow jam emerges in this day and age but Krystal Klear and Olivier Daysoul have combined creative juices to produce a pure killer. I challenge you to not get the horn listening to this. Go on. Try. It's impossible...

I tickled out a little review for Hyponik over here. Oooh matronnnn.

Metal Jacket - Trevor Jackson

With the New Year now mounting our collective frowns like a vicious slug, it's the turn of all musically-inclined magazines, websites and periodicals to list and line up their great hopes for the next 12 months. I'm doing my best to keep up with all the new names and faces out of all the fresh young pups, but it's hype to see old flame Trevor Jackson move back into the frame. He's got an ace looking compilation/mix emerging on Strut Records in February. Check the mini-mix below for a sly preview of the goodness which lies ahead...

Metal Dance - Promo Minimix 2012 by Trevor Jackson

Decemberrrrrrrrrrrrr

2011 has come and gone in a right blur of activity - Here are the last few weeks of December in fleeting, shaky-handed camera glory. Check it. Don't wreck it.



New year, new diary, new vibes



The last Scotch egg of the '011



Christmas dinner innit



Cleaning up spillages on Christmas day



Bagel-tastic



Our new flat mate - equipped for all weathers



Ben's big, fuck off bath



Post work's do mash up



Xmas office suffering



Darts!



Total darts!



Stating the obvious in pen and post it notes



Shoreditch pizza in the house



Secret Santa speaks

Numbers turn a car park over

If you've taken just a small amount of notice of the sort of shit going down in electronic circles over the last 12 months, then your ears should be well familiar with the work of Glaswegian label Numbers.

Hudson Mohawke, Rustie, Jackmaster, Spencers and Goodhand are the men at its core but their releases and dances have incorporated sonic action from the likes of cohorts Deadboy, DJ Pierre, Redinho, Jamie XX and other key electronicy, wonky players.

To celebrate what has been a mammoth year for the crew, they hosted a huge party in a central London car park for their dedicated followers, who turned out in their droves to pay their respects via the rave. The bill was a wet dream for any fucker who reckons their fingers are wrapped around the pulse with much of the aforementioned Numbers team representing heavy stylez.

We arrived already in a half mangled state to witness Deadboy and Spencer sparring over a snarly mixture of fresh fire and older electronic classics before Hudmo sent the place totally upside down. The oddly shaped gent played a crunchingly heavy mixture of r'n'b and classic hip hop as well as many of his own big 'uns to send the car park spiralling into overdrive. It culminated in R.Kelly's Bump'n'Grind, which was a fittingly daft conclusion to a sweaty, party hard set of b.a.n.g.e.r.s.

Our collective sense began to deteriote rapidly at this point. One of our number was lost down the front out of his box on two bottles of cheap plonk while the rest of us were baying hard and boogieing strong. Rustie carried on where Hudmo left off with a large locker of hyper-real tackle whereas Jamie XX and Jackmaster were slightly less garish with a more standard selection of house. Although this was how it looked from where we were standing. Which was near the back. We left before the dawn close to go back round our ends and sing-along to Coldplay albums for an hour before straddling the hay. Big business from a big, young team. Do your maths 2012. Numbers are coming for you...