Julio Bashmore Father Father

Fell in love with this Julio Bashmore tune the other week - it's been a soundtrack to sitting in the kitchen and talking total shit. Harped on about its charms for Resident Advisor. Check the link for verbose syophancy...

Julio Bashmore Father Father Resident Advisor Review

The wind of change

Change is in the air - it's spring and ting and progression is agwaning. There was a clear out of both personnel and objects in our gaff. This is the sort of shit which we found...



Croquette business



Sarah Mini-beenie



Old skool bin vibes



Fresh. to. death

Twit twoo?

Everyone has a competitive streak. It can be big or small and sometimes only emerges in the aisles of Tesco when you're fighting over the last tub of taramosalata. But competition and sporty business has been higher on the agenda of late than usual. This is cos the London marathon went off the other Sunday, which is definitely more of a competition than fighting to get your orders in at the bar. Although some boozers can be very busy. Props to the runners and ting. My sister and buddy both put themselves through it but I found it draining enough just watching it...

Perhaps more exciting than the run itself was the news that another competition was taking place alongside it. That's right. A painting of an owl was up for grabs. Not just any old owl but one painted by the father of a comrade who was raffling said bird off to raise money for his participation in the 26.5 mile endeavour.

The image of the owl provoked mass hysteria. There was a bidding frenzy with people throwing money into the pot and screaming: 'I got to get that bird'. Needless to say, the tickets I'd got were a crock of shit and didn't get us anywhere. But you can't deny the potency of that owl image. It's intoxicating...



A better, more responsible, younger sibling at the finish



Losing tickets - only 254 off

Sleep deprivation

Not going to bed can sometimes be a marvellous thing - sometimes it can also be a hideous thing. But Saturday was marvellous. Despite inadvertently locking chums in the gaff, spending a mild fortune and probably becoming a little bit thicker due to the starvation of oxygen to the brain and the vast intake of gaspers. What evs - it's fucking summer. This is how it's going down. You know how we're rolling. The phone died at about hour 36 but these were some of the images that will stay with us.






The carrot soup was a lot



On the brink

Dance 'til the Police Come

Here's a review hype hoving into view - Words have been flowing like water out of a tap of late cos there's so much good new musical shit spurting out. Get your quills and ears out for the lads. First up is this nu-soul business by Fatima and Floating Points. It's kinda mint in the kind of the slow-building, jazzy sorta way that Alice Russell and The Rebirth were back in the '03.

Fatima & Floating Points - Follow You EP review



Junglist man Peverelist also got a good going over - this is savage, man music strictly for the heads in love with low ends - Again, it sounds like the past coming up on the future and giving its ears a thorough nashing. Get out your sausages for the feast chumps.

Peverelist - Dance 'til the Police Come

We can help each other - can we find a way Eskiboy?

Wiley is a real nutbar. If you have the pleasure of following the man on Twitter, you'll be aware of just how fucking nutty he is. This dude is a bone fide pop star with a string of top ten singles lying in his wake. But he cannot stop sparking on Twitter about philosophical concepts ranging from toast to trust. This mixture of real-time chart success and real-time talk makes him a real-time hero. There aren't enough 'artists' smacking the charts around the chops with big singles while still being totally bonkers. I love him and can't get enough of his tunes and the drivel he spouts.



The man maybe mad but he has 'nuff tunes. 'Nuff parking. We went down to check him oot on his recent Elusive Tour, which has been rescheduled more times than I've had fry ups this year. But the talent is a temperamental beast - this is a dude who sacked his manager, left his label and gave away hours of tunes via zip file last year. Earlier in the week tweets were talking of sacking the tour manager but thankfully, when we got into the venue a little bit pissed up, he bounded out on the stage with a mike and no manager in a headlock under his arm.



A Wiley gig itself is fucking loud - backed by a child on the decks, the music was all taut and wonk, full of grime and ear shredding in volume. The ciders, the sea of camera phones and the hits made for an evening of total high energy. JME did his muscley Nando's loving ting earlier, prompting us to shout 'Where's yer fox at?' Plus the encore featuring Jamie, Jammer and Skepta was off the bloody chain. His album drops in the summer but this mint video came out the day after (it's streaming on the Guardian's website). Big tings? Big tings indeed.

Podcasting across E8

Sunday April 3rd was a big one - The Kiss the Fist collective put together a rambling podcast to big up our next bash down at the London Fields on April 29th. Fuelled by a collection of strong lagers, rollies and enough wires to hang an army of cats, it's resplendent with rambling and talk of the forthcoming royal wedding. It's gonna be a big day for everybody. You can listen to our shit spouting on the link below.

April '11 Podcast by Kissthefist on Mixcloud