Rusko has a fucking daft haircut

Rusko is a Leeds-born, now LA-based dubstep part responsible for exposing the world to the skronky skronky business.

He's a preposterous looking character who makes music almost as stupid as his style. Stupid, lairy, foolish and occasionally an extremely guilty pleasure. His new album is kinda worth a punt if you're already feeling what he's produced thus far. If you haven't, then there's a distinct possibility you'll think the whole endeavour stinks.

Here's the single.



And here's my review for Resident Advisor

Rusko review for RA

He's now working with Britney Bears and MIA. The sound of one man attempting to polish as many turds as possible for the mega buck? Or a producer looking to push the pop envelope until it bursts into a new dimension?

Only time will tell...

It's big and it's called Kavsrave

It's not often you hear something so on point you fall for it immediately. Like straight off. I feel like I've been listening to this new single by Kavsrave all my life.

It's on Jackmaster's Numbers label and is pure class.

Check it here and a little review I did gushing all over it like a little boy meeting his first ice lolly.

Kavsrave - Quotes EP review

I also found a little bit of time to write some verbal drool about Doc Daneeka's first EP proper. He's now living in Swansea and makes UK funky...

Doc Daneeka Deadly Rhythm EP review

Fuc51 and Camerap

Manchester music is going through a funny old phase. Revivalism appears to be the buzzword - Hooky is reworking Joy Division as part of his plan to rape every last flake of Ian Curtis' corpse for as much cash as he can. Liam Gallagher is forming a new band called Beady Eye - and that's about it. When the Whip are the hypest act a city currently fronts, then perhaps you're in trouble?

The FUC 51 blog is a massive digital whinge about this unfortunate state of affairs.

Check out Fuc51 here

My buddy Paul Sleaze has also put this piece of beatladen electronica together under the guise of Camerap. It's big and should make the corners of your mouth crease...

Bang a baby's Face

After piecing the Bang Face weekend back together via the power of hazy and distant memories, Resident Advisor ended up publishing my thoughts on the event. After careful consideration I took out some of the more obvious references to drug taking. I know. I'm a fucking sell out bastard.

Check the review on the link below.

Bang Face resident advisor review

Extensive gluttony

Food has been high on the agenda of late - It's basically a munchie ting. I've been sampling a weird array of culinary 'delights' ranging from burgers to iced coffees. That's right. Get me and my extravagant palette. It's off the hook ain't it?

One of the highlights was having a little bbq on our small balcony. It rained on the burgers and went dark as we didn't get round to lighting the fucker until 8pm. One member of our small two man party was also sick - so all in all great success!

Also tried Purdeys for the first time. That's the sort of mood which has been kicking round our way for the past couple of weeks. It's been all go let me tell you...



Burger meets egg - they get along. It's magic.



Fire flex



Fags and bones



Juked



An expensive alcoholic shake



Energy boost sans taurine



Battered sausage business



Mocha frappo babes

Adventures in sleep deprivation

2010 has been a savage year on the synapses thus far. Perhaps no more than usual, but still it occasionally feels like surviving until another birthday comes to pass maybe more of a struggle than it should be.

Anyhoo, in a vain attempt to be civilised, I spent last weekend volunteering (Have I ever mentioned my tireless charity work? zzzzzzzzzzzzzz...) and then watching my pa drive a formula 3 car round the track at Silverstone as part of a lovely xmas gift organised by my sister on the Sunday. The volunteering ting went smoothly despite a thick lagery hangover. This was shaken off by chasing a small 13 year old lad on a bike around Victoria Park followed by assisting with a nappy change. Standard.

The second part went mildly awry as sleep never really materialised on Saturday evening. One thing basically led to another with the only stolen winks of kip taking place on the tube as a I sailed past my station and ended up 12 stops further down the line than planned. Whoops? Cue being 45 minutes late, cue sweats, cue a Macdonald's Big Mac meal being the only thing between me and madness.



The birthday gift goes down



Man up big poppa!



A natural athlete highly attuned to the intricacies of the road



After a couple of confessions, the day went off relatively smooth - Pops went round the track at a leisurely pace while we cheered him on and I beggared about in the midst of the family bosom. I think they're used to it....

However, the final song in the boozer we were drinking in on the previous eve was this little ripper. It has vague connotations of being to do with mortality, which in these times of fast living could be quite pertinent. Or maybe not. Whatevs, it's a big little tune.

Kiss the Fist...

If you're free on Thursday evening, then we're doing a little bit of Djing at the London Fields boozer in Hackney. Kiss the Fist is all about vests and hi-nrg. Whether any of us will be wearing one on the eve in question is a moot point but you can keep your fingers crossed...

You can check our first forays into the murky world of podcasting down below... We're hoping to polish the banter as even having a burn half way through didn't exactly get the vibes growing... Although the tunes are hype. Expect big music and sloppy mixing (on my part anyhoo).

Yippe-ki-yay motherfuckers...

Kiss the Fist