At the start of the year La Roux was among the names being warbled about by every bozo and his fucking dog. I initially cast her in the same box (I.e coffin) as Florence and the Machine and the increasingly irritating Little Boots - the one full of rusty nails, cat shite and no talent.
However her new record is genuinely ace. And even better is the Skream remix. Along with yer boy Toddla T he should have been in the list of hype acts for 09. Check him here at Stealth a couple of weeks dropping his own rerub - witness the sickness…
And considering he’s the poster boy for dustep he’s put together a rather tasty and surprising disco mix up. Check it here...
Sunday, 1 March 2009
Saturday, 21 February 2009
Kid Acne and the Brokeback bowlers
The other week we visited Bloomsbury Lanes. It was to check a gig from that man Kid Acne, South York’s answer to T-Pain. For a Friday night, it was predictably mental set amidst hoards of people get their rocks off and getting pissed in the lanes. That man Ackers stomped about bellowing out his hits through a sound system “made of custard” according to his bro Chips for the Poor. It was a fun eve and I passed out on the bus on the way back. Maxi-standard as they say.
Incidentally we saw two manly lovers who appeared to be dressed as cowboys at the lanes. I was shitted enough to pap them. These are the best of a very poor collection of 15 photos of these two ‘Brokeback bowlers’ as we affectionately dubbed them.
And here’s the video to Eddy Fresh, full of minor Sheffield celebs. Word.
Incidentally we saw two manly lovers who appeared to be dressed as cowboys at the lanes. I was shitted enough to pap them. These are the best of a very poor collection of 15 photos of these two ‘Brokeback bowlers’ as we affectionately dubbed them.
And here’s the video to Eddy Fresh, full of minor Sheffield celebs. Word.
Witter Witter Witter
As we’re in the mood for writing, here’s a couple of links to words I’ve squeezed out on the typewriter of late. For the Fact website there’s a review of Get Physical’s Final Song compilation, a collection of tracks picked by ice-cold Dj types as the song they would have sound tracking their funeral. The second (for Inthenews) is a waffle ting on N.A.S.A’s collaborative effort, the Spirit of Apollo. It’s in a weird format which they insist on using. I don’t know - see what you think You can check the verse here and here.
Writing about Final Song, opened up another line of thought for me - Which Djs would I wish to see dead. With the possible exception of Gilles Peterson, I’d be relatively happy for the selectors on the disk in question to stay alive for a while longer. Despite the penchant of many of ’em to bore the pants offa me (Ricardo Villobos - I’m looking at you here sunshine) there are many more bastards who deserve to feel the reaper’s wrath. Two fingers up at bad vibes. This is vibes.
If I had to pull the trigger on a member of the djing elite Tiesto would have to the one to taste the dirt. Inexplicably the top DJ in every poll ever, this Danish muscle man is a purveyor of trance and to many idiots across the globe some sort of demi-god. He’s a twat as he takes his work (let me remind you - it’s trance we’re talking about) very seriously, describes his last few years as a ‘journey of defining moments’ and has pushed the concept of brand in dance music as far as it will go. Someone should do us all a favour and push this cunt in the canal. Shank him.
If you're a hater, then join up with this lucid dude here. He's also a hater and is not afraid.
Here’s how bad he is…
If you manage to watch the whole of this shite, then you'll need some sort of earwash. Try this. It's one of the tunes from Steak, a piece of French cinematic oddness with input from Edbanger stars SebastiAn, Mr Oizo, Sebastian Tellier and Kavinsky. It's joyous and mental. Props to her Bajesty for digging it out.
Writing about Final Song, opened up another line of thought for me - Which Djs would I wish to see dead. With the possible exception of Gilles Peterson, I’d be relatively happy for the selectors on the disk in question to stay alive for a while longer. Despite the penchant of many of ’em to bore the pants offa me (Ricardo Villobos - I’m looking at you here sunshine) there are many more bastards who deserve to feel the reaper’s wrath. Two fingers up at bad vibes. This is vibes.
If I had to pull the trigger on a member of the djing elite Tiesto would have to the one to taste the dirt. Inexplicably the top DJ in every poll ever, this Danish muscle man is a purveyor of trance and to many idiots across the globe some sort of demi-god. He’s a twat as he takes his work (let me remind you - it’s trance we’re talking about) very seriously, describes his last few years as a ‘journey of defining moments’ and has pushed the concept of brand in dance music as far as it will go. Someone should do us all a favour and push this cunt in the canal. Shank him.
If you're a hater, then join up with this lucid dude here. He's also a hater and is not afraid.
Here’s how bad he is…
If you manage to watch the whole of this shite, then you'll need some sort of earwash. Try this. It's one of the tunes from Steak, a piece of French cinematic oddness with input from Edbanger stars SebastiAn, Mr Oizo, Sebastian Tellier and Kavinsky. It's joyous and mental. Props to her Bajesty for digging it out.
Thursday, 19 February 2009
Annie Mac - Night of the Tiger
party people
Mumdance + Annie Mac
It's been a while bozos. But it's been a lot. Here's the first bit of January business we got oursens down to. Night of the Tiger in a poncey venue in London town... Here are the words. I-DJ will publish it at some point but here it is first. Standard.
With the recession finally confirmed it means even the most rampant of hedonists are being forced to tighten their belt. To provide an antidote to these credit crunched times, it was most kind of Tiger Beer to acknowledge the financial woes of the capital’s nocturnal warriors by throwing a free party.
Featuring the skills of Annie Mac, Tayo and new bass bin bugger Mumdance, Night of the Tiger was set in the horrifically tacky environs of Studio Valbonne. The awfulness of the locale was only enhanced by the night having the vibe of a Big Brother wrap party, but thankfully with much better, bigger and more banging beats.
The theme of the ‘Orient’ meant we were welcomed by ladyboys on the door, kung fu fighting graced the stage and fortune cookies were lobbed about with gay abandon. Horse Meat Disco’s resident tranny, Jonny Woo was the made up general of the Tiger-drenched disarray.
With all the extraneous fuss it didn’t appear that many people were bothered by the music but it was the sharpest thing about the affair. The soundsystem bounced with global bass from the get-go with Mumdance leading the charge dropping heavy joints from the likes of future heroes Duke Dumont and Radioclit. Annie Mac, looking every inch the globe trotting star she has become in the past two years, played it harder and more four-four while Tayo brought out a lorry load of bassline, inspiring a stage invasion and bouts of frenzied boogying.
By the time we left Mumdance was back on, the place was rolling with Tiger empties and the last few party people still standing were giving it some. As a snapshot of where bass is at, it was spot on – in terms of a proper party, a fake fur imitation.
This is MumDance - Check his Ghetto Bass mix here for a unique flava
Tuesday, 20 January 2009
The 09
Check out the ring-side shots of my ma on the table below. This is how we roll during the festive season. Gin and pool. Basically, the acid never lies.
Here's a selection of shots from the 09 thus far. We played a New Year's eve party at 93 Feet East in the members bar for a sharp suited evening called Jack to the Future. We killed it big style.
Since then it's been a case of rubbing those pennies hoping they'll get it on and produce lots of little pennies which will grow up big and strong and become pounds.
Aww - xmas house
Mum on the table - Pure acid
A quiet night in with the Tiga podcast
Incidentally every fucker in the universe is compiling top tips for the 09 - they’re citing a wave of keyboard waving sirens as the antidote to the past year of guitar wielding Gratton catalogue-esque numpties clogging up one’s lobes. Fuck them they don’t know anything. Here’s a proper slice of aural hype from an original madam with a little help from some lads. Grace Jones vs Aeroplane. Get on it mothers…
Saturday, 17 January 2009
Everytime I look into your eyes I see the future
Bugged Out!’s been my favourite club night for a while - the vibe is debauched, the written hype dished out with all the subtlety of a gnarly hammer plus the guests are always uber-hot. Them tales about the ressies getting more or as fucked up as punters are hype too and always get me going, especially when calamity strikes and they throw caution and money to the wind all in the hope of the party being pushed over the edge.
Check out their tales here. The one about original ressie Rob Bright falling off the stage at Sankeys cos he was too pissed, breaking his conk, straightening it in the bogs and goin’ straight back out to the dance floor is class…
On a Thursday eve in December we’d decided to hit up Bugged Out! before it leaves its current home at The End. The now strangely asexual weirdo leftfield visionary Tiga was the big player in question. I love this guy - from his mindaltering bad ass records to the hallucinogenic verbalisations of his press sheets for his label Turbo and hard, acidic deejay sets.
Perhaps the best ting is he could have been a Scissor Sisters-esque mega bucks pop star but instead opted to blaze the crop and produce techno records with so much bottom end they make yer ball sack quake. Recently he’s become even weirder. Take a dip in his pod casts or check his latest work The Worm and Mind Dimension - Slabs of freaky genius which will make you fret.
Venturing to the End was frothy- It’s tucked around a back street in West London and is closing pretty soon. Lo the vibe was heavy for a Thursday night.
Tiga’s set was an exercise in both restraint and being extremely banging. Dropping The Worm, (his second released collaboration with Zombie Nation as ZZT), Duke Dumont’s techtonic rehash of Late of the Pier’s Bathroom Gurgle, plus a slice of Aphex’s Window Licker, the place was lapping it up like a bunch of wonky hounds. He also dropped this as his set closer, a suitably hypnotic aural ambush which knocked my brain into rave town. It’s Cari Lekebusch and the Jesper Dahlback overhaul of Shaded out on Tiga’s own Turbo imprint. Check it…
The evening was full of hi-jinks. Despite the £4.50 price tag surrounding the Kronenburg, we managed to maintain all night. Until the next morning in fact. We were having so much fun we informed a fellow bus passenger, who was unlucky enough to stumble into the aftermath, that the four of us were artists living together in a commune who took it in turns to have our wicked way with the one lady of our group - or ‘Lucy’ as Jeff was dubbed. Sinster and sick…
The fun was so intense that I completely neglected to remember I was due at Ministry of Sound to take part in a DJ masterclass featuring the likes of Danny Rampling, Ray Keith and Jazzy M as tutors on the morro. I woke at 12.30 with the kick off time of 1pm giving me the full on fear. No time for a shower I was forced to sprint across London town and mumble through the ‘masterclass’ wild of eye and stupid of face. I left having learnt a lot about the way Ministry of Sound works, clutching a bottle of their own brand vodka and a copy of Anthems II. Make no bones, the compilation is ace. Yer can make yer own minds up about how worthwhile spending £300 on a day with Mr Rampling would be… Check it here…
Check out their tales here. The one about original ressie Rob Bright falling off the stage at Sankeys cos he was too pissed, breaking his conk, straightening it in the bogs and goin’ straight back out to the dance floor is class…
On a Thursday eve in December we’d decided to hit up Bugged Out! before it leaves its current home at The End. The now strangely asexual weirdo leftfield visionary Tiga was the big player in question. I love this guy - from his mindaltering bad ass records to the hallucinogenic verbalisations of his press sheets for his label Turbo and hard, acidic deejay sets.
Perhaps the best ting is he could have been a Scissor Sisters-esque mega bucks pop star but instead opted to blaze the crop and produce techno records with so much bottom end they make yer ball sack quake. Recently he’s become even weirder. Take a dip in his pod casts or check his latest work The Worm and Mind Dimension - Slabs of freaky genius which will make you fret.
Venturing to the End was frothy- It’s tucked around a back street in West London and is closing pretty soon. Lo the vibe was heavy for a Thursday night.
Tiga’s set was an exercise in both restraint and being extremely banging. Dropping The Worm, (his second released collaboration with Zombie Nation as ZZT), Duke Dumont’s techtonic rehash of Late of the Pier’s Bathroom Gurgle, plus a slice of Aphex’s Window Licker, the place was lapping it up like a bunch of wonky hounds. He also dropped this as his set closer, a suitably hypnotic aural ambush which knocked my brain into rave town. It’s Cari Lekebusch and the Jesper Dahlback overhaul of Shaded out on Tiga’s own Turbo imprint. Check it…
The evening was full of hi-jinks. Despite the £4.50 price tag surrounding the Kronenburg, we managed to maintain all night. Until the next morning in fact. We were having so much fun we informed a fellow bus passenger, who was unlucky enough to stumble into the aftermath, that the four of us were artists living together in a commune who took it in turns to have our wicked way with the one lady of our group - or ‘Lucy’ as Jeff was dubbed. Sinster and sick…
The fun was so intense that I completely neglected to remember I was due at Ministry of Sound to take part in a DJ masterclass featuring the likes of Danny Rampling, Ray Keith and Jazzy M as tutors on the morro. I woke at 12.30 with the kick off time of 1pm giving me the full on fear. No time for a shower I was forced to sprint across London town and mumble through the ‘masterclass’ wild of eye and stupid of face. I left having learnt a lot about the way Ministry of Sound works, clutching a bottle of their own brand vodka and a copy of Anthems II. Make no bones, the compilation is ace. Yer can make yer own minds up about how worthwhile spending £300 on a day with Mr Rampling would be… Check it here…
Tuesday, 6 January 2009
<<< Non Stop Now >>>
No photos of this sadly but this was the first bit of djing we put together since moving down to the smoke last November. The flyer is put together by that genuii Cecil Something. A fairly random Thursday night with a fairly random collection of old Sheffeel faces gliding across the wheels.
The Victoria is a cool boozer on the inside, intimidating madman’s nuthouse on the front in the E3 zone. About 30 people showed up, which was pretty encouraging considering every other time we’ve been in there it’s just us, Alfie (the perma-stoned looking owner) and pricey looking taxidermy. We played records until midnight, drank six pints, had builders try and turn us off and then fucked off. It was a lark and one we’re hoping to repeat soon…
The tune of the night and one I’m feeling is particularly hype right now is this mad bootleg - Grandmaster Flash italo mad mash up. Italians do it better? Possibly but I think this Datashat fella's from Stoke Newington...
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