Cut Copy nicked all their ideas from...

... Flock of Seagulls. I had no idea until last week - but even Ministry of Sound appeared to know - they're now getting in on the act by handily bagging up all electronic 80s needs in one handy compilation - you can find it in your nearest supermarche next to Susan Boyle thanks to the superbrand. Depressing?

This bitch can sing

Throughout the stealthy slope into autumnal times, my skin has been almost popping with the number of fresh mixes getting underneath it. Like a witch's itchy sleeve let me tell you. Too much time on one's hands? Purleaze. There's too much fresh sounding sonic science being brewed up. I need an extra mouth to slurp up all the shit that's raining down.

Despite all the aural gratification I've been getting, there ain't nowt like Skream's Stella session with fellow dubstep man Kutz to really put a smile across one's grizzled mug.

Maybe it's the sloppiness of the whole endeavour or Skream's incessant chat - Whatevs this Rufus and Chaka Khan one in particular is an absolute monster - Big tune? The size of an elephant. Go big or go home.

This really is it...

My tenure as an online sweatshop wordsmith came crashing to an end the other week. Fittingly it was almost 24 months to the very day since I went to an interview in a shit hotel in Leeds to be told that I could possibly end up writing news about platinum metals.

I laughed at the time but little did I know what the full horror would resemble. Marlowe and the inscrutable heart of darkness all come to mind.

The leaving do was on point. Astons, right in the shadow of our office, was the location. The website offers a flattering insight into a place which is as dingy as it is depressing. One can sit inside drinking becks watching pathetic bastards piss their wages up the wall thinking they're living life to the very full while spilling cocktails down their Next suits. G.R.I.M.

Perhaps predictably, we made the occasion much more euphoric by getting bang pissed. I accidentally dropped my leaving gift (the above mug) on the floor of the DLR on the return journey. The pinot grigio I received (how did my colleagues know?) is a drink best consumed when already drunk such is the fragrancy of its manky bouquet.

The chicken we wolfed down at 11pm possessed a healthy orange glow. I put it down to the all the corn it must have been brought up on. Almost too fresh.

We even managed to get Craggsy a shout out - The walking piece of protein behind the wheely deelys (who has been known to consume a pasty and chips while in the 'mix' - heroic behaviour) played Beyonce to celebrate Craig's 41st birthday. A big look for a leaving do. Bye bye now...

Beyonce - Sweet Dreams (Official Video) HQ
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The carcasses of ten pounds worth of radioactive chicken



Breakfast - More chicken, this time as a sausage with reggae reggae. In. My. Face.



This is Mirinda - a refreshing bev with enough e-numbers to maim the throat of a small child

Wax:On compilation review

I left my current job on Friday to pursue something which will hopefully be more fucking interesting. I did a last review for the shitty In the News website. It was so late that they almost didn't publish it but they have and here it is... Ramblings and rumblings on the Wax:On compilation...

Wax:On review here...

Tinny - Zingolo

Props to the Plat Du Jour blog for picking up on this... This is a rather large remix of the tune soundtracking the rather wonderful new Cadbury's advert.

Doorly is on the rerub of Zingolo's by Tinny. Check the remix here and the vid below... big looks all round...

Berghain

We're heading to Berghain in December for the Berlin Warp20 party and have subsequently been doing some internet digging for info. It sounds like we're gonna experience Caligula style levels of decadence. A tough door policy, intense techno work outs and sex. Everywhere. Check out these two weighty essays on the club. I almost want to take up residence in there...

Saturday at Berghain

Daniel Wang's thoughts on Berghain

Modeselektor vs Fabric vs Wetherspoons

Thursday October 22nd - BNP buffoon Nick Griffin’s leery mug is scratching itself across Tvs nationwide and Fabric is open for business - vive le super club and its own special protest. The world may have gone mad for the BNP hype but we’d removed ourselves from the political equation by opting for snacking on a ‘large one‘. Says muchos lotos about our take on the ‘media furore' don't it.

Being a school night and all, we didn’t want to get too bashy… but by the time we’d convened at Wetherspoons in Farringdon it was almost too late. Some frenzied chicken jerking in E8, a Heineken, boogaloo and bus ride and suddenly all bets were most definitely out of the window - or at least in the pint pot and being downed at a rapid rate. The first round in ‘spoons cost £16, which anyone with even a passing interest in their reasonable rates will realise is fairly horrifying.

After watching Griffin’s ‘sweating sex offender’ vibes on the box in ‘spoons with the subtitles on, we rumbled off to Fabrish with the collective bi(f)t(a) between our teeth, working a lairy flex through Farringdon - Boo yacka boo yacka - Amped up to the gills on night juice, we were readier than perhaps a quartet of large time loving twats with work the next day have ever been.

Landing at the club and the anticipated hoardes were not in evidence - London crew the Patchwork Pirates were on playing minimal dubstep to a half empty room and the Stella was expensive. It must cost a lot to pay for the silver trays they insist on serving your change on in there. I’m not after table service - I just want to stick the foamy liquid in my mouth and down my front. Whatevs, by the time the lights went up for Modeselektor, we’d endowed enough of said foamy shit to see a vibe all unwholesome and glistening… and the people had come. Hold tight...

The pair were bang into it - Gernot Bronsert was all Morph from Tony Hart’s show - gurning, limbs waggling while Sebastian Szary partner crime was more restrained - not in a pencils, easel, glint of a beast in the eye sort of way - but almost military in stance and gait despite the hardness they were dropping - Outside when we collared them it made even more sense - He was wearing a fucking beret and vibing hard.

They rinsed through some of the best bits of both albums - Hello Mom and Happy Birthday - two throwaway titles that don’t really bely the brains and bangingness which lie within. Modeselektor’s flex is all low end electronica, sub crunk woofers united by techno. Let Your Love Grow with Paul St. Hillaire words gliding atop was glitched ragga thump with a heart while The Black Block, Hyper Hyper, Hasir and Kill Bill Volume 4 brought the rave rain down on us all.

By the time the pair popped two magnums of fizz all over the crowd in some sort of orgasmic, weird celebration of all things big and hard, we were down the front, roaming on a mosh pit style flex.

Bristol’s big man - Joker finished us off by playing a groovy selection of all tings techno and dubstep. Rinsed on the crystal funktion one system in Fabric’s main room was something to behold and the perfect foil to the German duo. My mind was proper blown by his business - Like the man with the milktray - Sleek, elegant yet you wouldn’t mess with him cos he’d have you up against the wall with one hand round yer throat and the other playing with your balls…

The aftermath was long - But more than worth it. Hello Mom. Not until the day after the day after fingers crossed...



Outside on the streets - they call it papping nerdstyle



Furtive email checking



Lift off



On it Thursday stylings

Incidentally when they played Kill Bill VI, it looked a little like this...