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Showing posts from February, 2017

Current Listening Feb 2017: A Quick Rundown of What Hip Hop Is Floating My Boat Right Now

Album of the year thus far I reckon is the new Quelle Chris. Just an astonishing piece of work, his
best yet, start to finish utterly compelling.

Being You Is Great, I Wish I Could Be You More Often by Quelle Chris

Also floating my boat this set of reblends of classic beats from Real Live's massively underrated lost masterpiece of 90s rap 'The Turnaround' with freestyles of the era. Shouldn't work, does a fucking treat. You can also download it from here.




Don't give a fuck that rap-fans with skinny jeans who read Noisey probably don't dig Your Old Droog. His new EP 'What Happened To Fire' if fuckin' boss.



And yeah, I must admit, I find it very difficult to drag my sorry ass away from Chief Keef's 'Two Zero One Seven' right now and why would I want to. Yes some of the tracks are indistinguishable but did you ever hold that against Monster Magnet? Exactly. The flickering half-dead roachtwitching drive and dissipation of right now summated b…

Current listening Feb 2017: GQOM.

Never knowingly ahead of the curve. Yes, I'm slow. But this video peaked my interest.



which then led me to this which is just fucking wonderful and astonishing and utterly addictive. GQOM is Durban-based, SA bass music that makes you step right. Obsessed with these sounds right now. If anyone can tell me/feed me more, please do.

Dominowe - SiyaThakatha by Dominowe

DAFT PUNK. ASTORIA. LONDON, LIVE REVIEW 1997

Melody Maker, 20 November 1997 UNDERGROUND/OVERGROUND, spectacle/black-out, in-yer-face/faceless, pop/music. Dance has to make its choices. Either it believes in its own unique power, rejecting stages, identification, authenticity and the audience/artist gap of reverence and tries to create a totally new kind of night out, or it can be just better rock'n'roll, filling stages with enough flash and bodies to kick shit off, still playing on the same ideas of spectacle and acceptance that rock thrives on. The trouble tonight is that we fall between dance's radical potential and a trad need for "legitimacy"; on the one hand, music so heavenly it makes minds and bodies pop, on the other hand, a spectacle and set-up so dim and dull that hearts and souls wither. Torn between celebrating 12-inch culture and shoring up album culture, it sells both short. Tonight, everyone's made to wait in a heaving Astoria til 11pm, then, a pause, a glance, and "is this them?" …

A POP DAYDREAM PART I: THINNING THE HERD.

This was my dream. And it was so vivid it really happened. 
I hired a van. The expense was a concern but I needed the capacity. First the long drive north to Middlesborough. I knew he'd be at home, visiting relatives. Made sure my HeadBag was packed. Blindfolds and ballgags. Rope. Some starved, stroppy badgers. Maxi-pack of chloroform-seeped bogroll from Costco. Masking tape. As I eased onto the M1 I told myself again the story of how it was developed from the need for waterproof ammunition casings in WWII. I had to, I was bored, and it's a long schlep up to 'boro. Idly, after securing a mortgage for a bacon roll at Tibshelf, I had an argument with my other personality about whether Middlesborough was in North Yorkshire, County Durham or Teeside. 
Nothing got resolved. A plain-clothes officer pulled me off in the hardshoulder near Malton and issued stern words about punching myself while driving. No hilarity did ensue. I needed to focus. This was a serious business. By noo…