it happens for a reason

staying up late is easy.

Friday, July 28, 2006

LISTENING SINCE THE PREVIOUS POST:

VARIOUS PRODUCTION- 'THE WORLD IS GONE'
LUCIANO LIVE MIX
V/A -'SUPERLONGEVITY 4'
PASSION FM ELECTRO AND (GULP)...FUNKY HOUSE
FREEZE FM 2-STEP.

not much listening recently. i don't know why. i just want silence while i wait for the rain, which is always hovering around up there but never coming down. as soon as it starts pouring down i'm going to sit inside drinking tea and listening to art tatum and vashti bunyan.

and that's a promise.

there was a brown out in london yesterday because of the heat. we are on our knees out here.

listening to music because it is your job to review it is very odd, i've found. it's not bad, at all, because i'm lucky enough to review stuff for a magazine that doesn't cover dross. but it's very strange thinking: 'i have to listen to this today'. this blog is mainly about the whims and fancies that lead me to listen to particular musics at particular times, but when it's yr job, there's little room for whims- it's all crowded out by duty.

it's a nice little duty to have, though.

this week was the various production album. slightly unfairly maligned, i feel. sure, the 7"s were incredible highs and the album tracks don't reach such individual brilliance (with the exception of 'hater', which was put out on seven inch anyway...). but the album is best listened to as an hour long mood-piece, i think- much like the Burial album. taken together the record's as entrallingly bleak and stark as you'd like, and the sketchy lack of substance to some of the tracks only adds to that effect.

there's still no excuse for that track, 'soho', though: it's like those horrible sub-NIN bands that were everywhere in the 90s, calling themselves 'industrial'. i think one was called Rico: i once saw them at Reading when i was 15 and it was the only time when i've been so angry and disgusted at the sheer conceited shiteness of a band that i've been seriously tempted to throw a beer can at the singer's head (i didn't, by the way)

a band so bad they make people turn to violence!

to stress: this is Rico, not Riko, we're talking about. i wouldn't like to throw a beer can at riko's head, not at all. think of the consequences. i imagine he'd want to take it 'to road'. he wouldn't keep it lyrical. i think it's his birthday today, incidentally.


look, this is is going nowhere, is it? ok, i'm out, off to listen to more perlon...buzz, twang, fizz, clunk (and all of them sexily).

Tuesday, July 25, 2006

LISTENING SINCE THE PREVIOUS POST:

CLAUDE VONSTROKE- 'THE WHISTLER'
DANNY WEED- 'CREEPER'
DANIELLE BALDELLI- 'PLUTON'
CASSIE- 'ME AND U'
V/A- 'FEEL THE SPIRIT'
TALKING HEADS- 'FEAR OF MUSIC'
DAVID BYRNE- 'THE CATHERINE WHEEL'
DAVID BYRNE- 'LOOK INTO THE EYEBALL'
UNKNOWN DUBSTEP DJ ON RINSE FM, SUNDAY
AFRICAN POP ON 96.4FM PIRATE STATION
HAWK AND TRAE- 'SWANG'
TRIPLE 6 MAFIA- 'STAY FLY'
SIMON REYNOLDS' 'SCREWED AND CHOPPED' COMPILATION
LOCO DICE- 'SEEING THROUGH SHADOWS'
RICHIE HAWTIN- 'DE9-LITE MIX'
WOEBOT- 'BHANGRA 2006' COMPILATION
JAMES FIGURINE- 'MISTAKE MISTAKE MISTAKE MISTAKE'
MOUNTAIN GOATS- 'TALAHASSEE'
ART TATUM- '25 CLASSIC SOLOS'
DJ PRANCEHALL @DIRTY CANVAS
EARS + SCARE DEM CREW @DIRTY CANVAS
NO-LAY B2B RENEGADE BOYS @DIRTY CANVAS
91.9 PASSION FM PIRATE

so i turn on the radio to accompany me when i'm writing this tune and 91.7fm is blasting out electro-house, pirate style! 4/4 striking right back into the hearts of london's youth. oh happy days...luvvit it like cooked food. why does music, any music, always sound more exciting on pirate radio? (check this station by the way- their tag line is, 'tuff dirty electro soul'. what more do you need to know?)

anyway, let's talk about dirty canvas- stream of consciousness grime reportage, just like the old days. hold tight, here we go...


first things first, dirty canvas is a big deal now! just goes to show, persevere with yr good work and eventually the people will come. you want to know how big a deal it is? wiley turned up. that's how big a deal it is. the whole room froze as eskiboy made his entrance. star aura. the force of personality. wiley has to get massive- i don't believe in Destiny or any of that (for i am a man of science...) but, yunno, he just has to. he's a big deal.

hey how come i never realised how great Ears is before? i'd always had him down as alright, but a little overrated. but oh my gosh no, after seeing him live, the man is underrated, if anything. he was doing this brilliantly weird staccato stuff, fucking around with switching the volume of his voice to produce little echo effects. very D-doubleish, i guess, but from where i'm standing there can alway be more of that. a proper performer too, stalking round the place, spitting his lyrics right in the faces of the audience.

(electro-house pirate set has just dissolved into a mess of droning 303s. i think i can hear the ghost of 'washing up' somewhere in the mix. LOVE IT!)

embarressing thing was, with ears' set, that he kept bigging up 'SDC' and at first i was joking that he must be showing some love for my old SilverDollarCircle blog. but then he kept doing it, and you know there was just that nagging thought of, 'actually...may be he is...nah...but, may be, possibly...'. john prancehall put me out of my rapidly self-delusional confusion by informing me that Ears was there with Scare Dem Crew. ooops. there would have been blushes if i'd externalized any of this at the time.

i am not a big deal.


and then no-lay took the stage. no-lay is one of the greatest of all grime MCs. you will have heard her on Run The Road, where she drops perhaps my favourite grime lyric ever- 'MC'S BAWLING OUT BLOODY MURDER- STOP YER BAWLING CUZ WE FUCKIN HEARD YA!'

no-lay has the most amazing voice. it's so sharp and precise and brutal and angry. but live, in person, she's charmingly and disarmingly modest and shy; she apologises that it's just going to be her, and not the full Unorthodox family on the PAs, and asks us to excuse her if they're not all that. she says that she's scared and nervous: we yell out that she needn't be.

but then she starts MCing, and jesus christ, it's honestly like she's spitting fire out there. smashed-glass streams of words screwed up into little balls and then hurled into the air. she stares dead straight into the lens of the camera that's in the front row and never breaks her gaze, chopping her hands in front of her as she creates her impeccably controlled carnage and madness. that's going to be some film. finally, as the set reaches its peak, she snarls her best known bars, 'yeah we don't wanna clash, that's long, cuz we heard yr tracks and you sound swaggish'. the place goes crazy and in a split second no-lay is screaming, 'PULL IT! PULL IT!!!'

dj prancehall complies, and no-lay cuts the silence with: 'easy peasy lemon squeezy. any riddim i can do that. ANY RIDDIM.'

from then on, point proved, she lets up a bit and it's laughter and coy smiles again. we stumble out into the cloying summer-night air, slightly dazed.

Friday, July 21, 2006

LISTENING SINCE THE PREVIOUS POST:

*CLAUDE VONSTROKE- 'THE WHISTLER'*
FREDDY LOVE @ BAR MUSIC HALL, SHOREDITCH
FUCKPONY- 'CHILDREN OF LOVE'
V/A- 'FEEL THE SPIRIT'
EDDY CURRENT 'MIRACULEUSEMENT' MIX
HAWK AND TRAE- 'SWANG'


so, it transpires that THE track of sancho panza, the one i was going on about the other day, is 'the whistler': miraculously, It Happens For a Reason reader Nebbesh guessed what it was from my somewhat tawdry (love that word) descriptions, thus saving me from whistling to the staff in Phonica. you should get this tune. it will make you smile.

--------------
last night we tried to relive the heavenly delights of sancho panza at the glade: Freddy love, one of the sancho panza DJs, was playing out at the Bar Music Hall, at the epicentre of intidatingly cool east london. so we thought we'd pop along and have a little dance.

and...well, i guess there was a valuable lesson in the night: sometimes, you've just got to accept that the party's over. we'd come hoping for the glories of sancho panza, but we were faced with an empty bar in shoreditch. freddy love was still great, of course, focussing on house so old school i have no idea what it was or what to say about it, with little bits of cosmic and italo-disco here and there. even in the cold light of an empty dancefloor, the tunes stood up, and that's testament to the man's impeccable taste. at the end, we had a little dance just for form's sake, but really it was overwhelmingly clear: the fun that was the Glade is over, and real life starts again here.

-----------
it was the first of freddy love's 'vinyl factory allstars' nights at the bar music hall: i think they're set to be regular events. i think in a few months this might become quite a big thing: sancho panza has a pretty huge following, and freddy love is offering it for free. so you should go to the next one, and then you can tell your friends that you were hip to it way before them. and there are few better feelings than that.
---------------------
OK! i've been listening to Trae and Hawk's 'swang' so much recently. it is, as Hawk says in his verse, a 'soothing song'. because my emo heart beats (flutters?) so meekly, i kind of want all hip hop to sound this gentle, this pretty. but then i spend most of my life listening to grime MCs go 'ARGGGHHH!!!' so that can't be true.

whatever. one thing that i love about 'Swang' is that lyric of Hawk's, where he goes, 'i'm Fat Pat's clone, his heart beats still through my flesh and bone'. I mean, JESUS CHRIST- what a lyric, what an image, what an idea! With just a few words, Hawk overturns the standard musician's traditional focus on the Individual and originality. He sacrifices his self-hood, and sees his duty as preserving and continuing the work of another. he's just a cipher for someone else. that's pretty radical.

the mythologisation of deceased artists in southern hip hop is quite fascinating, and hawk's verse in 'swang' is a nice example of it. i was talking to dave stelfox once and he was saying how many of the hip hop artists he met in Houston would tell him that DJ Screw was God. i replied that it was interesting that such a thing happens in hip hop, as that kind of boundless praise and awe for an individual is more usual in techno- people saying that jeff mills is some kind of god-like figure on the scene, for example- or house: the whole 'todd is god' thing.

but dave said, no, with the houston guys it's not a metaphor, it's literal: they really do believe that DJ Screw was, and is, a God.

wow.

LISTENING SINCE THE PREVIOUS POST:

*CLAUDE VONSTROKE- 'THE WHISTLER'*
FREDDY LOVE @ BAR MUSIC HALL, SHOREDITCH
FUCKPONY- 'CHILDREN OF LOVE'
V/A- 'FEEL THE SPIRIT'
EDDY CURRENT 'MIRACULEUSEMENT' MIX
HAWK AND TRAE- 'SWANG'


so, it transpires that THE track of sancho panza, the one i was going on about the other day, is 'the whistler': miraculously, It Happens For a Reason reader Nebbesh guessed what it was from my somewhat tawdry (love that word) descriptions, thus saving me from whistling to the staff in Phonica. you should get this tune. it will make you smile.

--------------
last night we tried to relive the heavenly delights of sancho panza at the glade: Freddy love, one of the sancho panza DJs, was playing out at the Bar Music Hall, at the epicentre of intidatingly cool east london. so we thought we'd pop along and have a little dance.

and...well, i guess there was a valuable lesson in the night: sometimes, you've just got to accept that the party's over. we'd come hoping for the glories of sancho panza, but we were faced with an empty bar in shoreditch. freddy love was still great, of course, focussing on house so old school i have no idea what it was or what to say about it, with little bits of cosmic and italo-disco here and there. even in the cold light of an empty dancefloor, the tunes stood up, and that's testament to the man's impeccable taste. at the end, we have a little dance just for form's sake, but really it was overwhelmingly clear: the fun that was the Glade is over, and real life starts again here.

-----------
it was the first of freddy love's 'vinyl factory allstars' nights at the bar music hall: i think they're set to be regular events. i think in a few months this might become quite a big thing: sancho panza has a pretty huge following, and freddy love is offering it for free. so you should go to the next one, and then you can tell your friends that you were hip to it way before them. and there are few better feelings than that.
---------------------
OK! i've been listening to Trae and Hawk's 'swang' so much recently. it is, as Hawk says in his verse, a 'soothing song'. because my emo heart beats (flutters?) so meekly, i kind of want all hip hop to sound this gentle, this pretty. but then i spend most of my life listening to grime MCs go 'ARGGGHHH!!!' so that can't be true.

whatever. one thing that i love about 'Swang' is that lyric of Hawk's, where he goes, 'i'm Fat Pat's clone, his heart beats still through my flesh and bone'. I mean, JESUS CHRIST- what a lyric, what an image, what an idea! With just a few words, Hawk overturns the standard musician's traditional focus on the Individual and originality. He sacrifices his self-hood, and sees his duty has preserving and continuing the work of another. he's just a cipher for someone else. that's pretty radical.

the mythologisation of deceased artists in southern hip hop is quite fascinating, and hawk's verse in 'swang' is a nice example of it. i was talking to dave stelfox once and he was saying how many of the hip hop artists he met in Houston would tell him that DJ Screw was God. i replied that it was interesting that such a thing happens in hip hop, as that kind of boundless praise and awe for an individual is more usual in techno- people saying that jeff mills is some kind of god-like figure on the scene, for example- or house: the whole 'todd is god' thing.

but dave said, no, with the houston guys it's not a metaphor, it's literal: they really do believe that DJ Screw was, and is, a God.

wow.

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

LISTENING SINCE THE PREVIOUS POST:

*THE GLADE FESTIVAL*
SPANK ROCK- 'YO YO'
V/A - 'FEEL THE SPIRIT'
LUCIANO- 'SCI FI HI VOL.2'
DJ HYPE- 'SKA'
ON TOP FM
ROLL DEEP RINSE SET
DIZZEE RASCAL- 'BOY IN DA CORNER'
DIZZEE RASCAL- 'STAND UP TALL'
CHAMILLIONAIRE- 'RIDIN DIRTY'
VITALIC- 'OK COWBOY'
HAPPY HARDCORE ON CHURCH ORGAN, 'SACRED SERMONS': MATT STOKES CD
BONKERS HAPPY HARDCORE
SOUNDMURDERER- 'WIRED FOR SOUND' MIX
V/A- 'POKER FLAT VOL.4'

alright cuzzy? long time no see. i was at the glade festival, you see. and since bishing and boshing it at the glade i've been knocked out with weird dizzy spells and nausea. ooops. we did too much, too young. or may be, we're just getting too old for that kind of malarkey. whatever, i feel rough.

anyway, people writing about how fucked they get is LONG so let's have none of that. on with the music>>>>>>>>>>>

the glade started life as a corner of glastonbury dedicated to bringing back the vibe of the early 90s renegade soundsystems that used to crop up on the outskirts of the festival, before:- as half man half biscuit have it, 'they put out the gun towers to keep the hippies away'.
i actually used to go to glastonbury as a kid and the bits on the edge of the festival were well scary! properly lawless, as i remember.
now the glade is it's very own festival. and, like the organisers say, it's a Proper One. none of that corporate sponsored bollocks. no name prefaced by 'carling'. no slit-yr-wrists-at-the-sheer-nothingness-of-it businessman-'indie'. just loud electronic music, nice people, drugs and sunshine.
now the other side to this great anti-corporate ethos is that there's large swathes of the glade that are, if yr feeling mean (and as it's mid-week, i am), hippy bollocks.
you know the sort: people doing poi, everywhere. fuck loads of 'circus skills'. girls doing that baffling 'techno fairy' thing. people pretending to be native americans when really they're just students from the home counties who have done acid. an impossible amount of psy trance. a scary amount of psy trance with live bongos. a stall called 'funk off n dye' for shit's sake.
ack ack ack!
but, brothers and sisters, let us not dwell on the negative. there are at least two wonderful, even heavenly things about the glade.
first, let's talk about the biggie: the sancho panza tent. i've been to sancho panza at notting hill carnival a few times and, yeah, it's great but nothing you'd want to devote yr life to. too packed, too difficult, a little bit scarily trendy in places. perhaps.
but honestly, i would not be at all surprised if when i die and go to heaven (i am going there, right? RIGHT?), and the gates open, inside it's just the sancho panza tent at glade. forever.
we spent three days there, dancing, swaying, drinking. on the third day, i turned to my friends and said, 'i could do this for weeks, you know...months'. i don't think i've ever been so perfectly happy. the place is turned into a little wonderland, the sun streaming through the purple circus tent, bouncing off the flags and feathers that decorate the place. the crowd is all smiles and open hearted joy. i feel like i'm in some kind of advert. everyone looks so beautiful, and no one looks messy. the crowd is always small and it starts to feel like a family. we exchange smiles regularly. we chat some times. we pop outside to sunbathe with a drink. we discover how good mixing red wine with cranberry juice can be (try it!).

for once, there's such a strong feeling of belonging and acceptance (and i've done sancho panza with no drugs at all on occasion, so it's not what yr thinking!). we're all in it together. we dance more sexily than normal, which isn't much but still. all hips. but innocent hips.

enough about us. the music is stunning. these guys know what they're doing. hour after hour of these marvelously unhurried wiggles and shimmies through balearic, disco, electro house, and a bit of the sexier end of minimal, with little pops like kisses. one tune got played by pretty much everyone in there and i'm desperate to know what it was: a house track with someone whistling a little, almost 'higher states of consciousness' melody over the top. i might go into Phonica and sing it to them for them to identify it. actually, course i won't. that'd be madness. such a scary shop.

best moments of all for me are at the end of saturday night's set, at 4 in the morning, when the DJ drops an etienne de crecy track, one of his really epic, slow-burning ones, and we feel like heroes at the end of a long journey. we get up on to the podium and gaze out of the hands in the air. the sweat drips off the wall, gets in our hair, messes with our gel...(!). the other big moment (much of sancho panza is not a 'moment' but a period of blissed out hazy endless warm bath) is when carl craig's remix of 'fallin up' gets played. the crowd love it, and it's time to reprise those funny marching steps that we did at fabric the other month. it's the perfect track for sancho panza- a tune that feels like it can go on for ever on a soundsystem that feels like it must go one forever.

by the end of the weekend i could swear blind that sancho panza had some special 'softness filter' on their mixer, draping everything with a sparkly fog. i don't know how else they get it all to sound so infinitely gentle, so sensual. this is womb music. (sorry, that hippy bollocks again, yeah?)

so...to say that i recommend going to the the glade for sancho panza is inadequate. it's not just a good weekend. it's the best ever weekend. at the end of one set one of the Stompa Phunk DJs, blows kisses to the crowd and mouths, 'i love you guys!', and, for once, i really feel exactly the same way.

----------
and the other great thing about the glade? the detroit techno. sadly i missed kenny larkin (it was sancho panza duty calls...), but did get to see kevin saunderson, who was magisterial and magnificent. for the first time, i really appreciate just how elegant and textured detroit techno is. i've loved this music since i first heard it, but there, at the glade, it almost sounded like a modern day version of string quartets- so evenly balanced and harmonious and neat, not overpowering or hard at all. beautiful solutions to perennial problems. everything in its right place.

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

LISTENING SINCE THE PREVIOUS POST:

TOM TOM CLUB- S/T
CSS- 'CANSEI DE SUR SEXY'
FUCKPONY- 'CHILDREN OF LOVE'
JOHNNY DARK- 'CAN'T WAIT'
LOVE- 'FOREVER CHANGES'
GO TEAM
FRIENDLY FIRES
JAMES FIGURINE- 'MISTAKE MISTAKE MISTAKE MISTAKE'
LEMON RED SOUTHERN HIP-HOP MIX
YUMMY BINGHAM- 'COME GET IT'
LAY LOW F.M
NOZE- 'HOW TO DANCE'
ON TOP F.M
RUFF SQWAD RINSE SET
WILEY- '2ND PHAZE'
BURIAL- S/T
HOT CHIP- 'THE WARNING'
VARIOUS PRODUCTION ALBUM.
CLASSIC 80'S HARD ROCK AT THE OVAL, PAKISTAN VS REST OF THE WORLD TWENTY20.

wow, it's been over a week since the last post. how on earth did that happen? i'm not really sure. buti went away for a few days, and i'm also doing bits of writing for things other things that this blog (i review albums here by the way), so i don't have much time.

not writing on here is weird, cuz it's almost like you have to ease yr way back into blogging (what an ugly word). so, a few brief comments to dip my toe in the water, and then i'll try to build up to a full onslaught over the next few days (they'll be a break this weekend though as i'll be boshing it at The Glade...).

SO/////////////

where is the sports music of today? i went to the Oval the other day, to see the bastardised but tremendously fun twenty20 version of cricket (twenty20 is the 3 minute pop song to test cricket's epic and gruelling symphonies). every boundary and every wicket, they'd play a blast out a bit of rousing sports-rock over the PA. 80's hardrock fits such occasions perfectly- eye of the tiger, obviously, but also 'another one bites the dust', 'under pressure' for those tense moments, europe's 'the final countdown', may be...all horrible songs, but all brilliant when matched with a bit of sporty pomp.
wisely, those in charge of such things stuck to the 80s hair-rock scene in their selection of what to play at the Oval, but- perhaps conscious that, you know, cricket has to modernise and move with the times- they threw a few 90s and 21st century tunes in as well. but here's the dilemma: what to play? musicians nowadays seem to be in a completely different place than that needed to create gruesomely brilliant sports soundtracks. there's lack of hammy macho daftness about musicians today that really compromises them in this regard. and which also means that rock haircuts aren't nearly as fun as they used to be.
as things were, the organisers plumped for the deeply odd but weirdly inspired choice of The Sugababes (you wouldn't think it works, but it does) and the more obvious- but less good- smattering of Prodigy tracks (although the latter did prompt the thought that if geoffrey boycott played 20 years later than he did, he would have to come out on to the field to the strains of 'firestarter', a mental image which made me smile...)

but there's obviously a niche here, waiting to exploited. so to today's youth i say: cast aside yr skinny jeans, yr jerky guitars and yr television albums, and go and write songs that would sound good as a soundtrack to rugby players battering each other. that's what the people need, and that's your pension.

---------------------------------------------------
veterans of the (yuck) 'blogosphere' may remember, should remember, the name of jack savidge, a lovely person who can do a worringly brilliant impression of DJ Assault's voice.
anyway, jack's got a band, called friendly fires:
www.myspace.com/friendlyfires

and good god you should check them out. they''ve got a cover on their myspace uh 'space' of frankie knuckle's 'your love' which should give you some idea of the kind of cool fucks they are. i don't want to spoil the surprise, so i'll just say it'll make you dance in a whole different way from the original, but you'll still definitely be dancing.

jack told me they plan on playing live pretty relentlessly at the end of the summer, so keep yr ear to the ground...

Tuesday, July 04, 2006

LISTENING SINCE THE PREVIOUS POST:

HOT CHIP- 'THE WARNING'
JOHNNY DARK- 'CAN'T WAIT EP'

after a month or so of dismissing it as a nice bit of sparkliness, but nothing more, this morning i suddenly fell head over heels in love with 'the warning'. i don't know what prompted this shift in my affections, but it's all gone a bit crazy. i've listened to it 4 times today and i ain't even done yet.

looking back, it all seems so obvious that this was the album for me. hazes and penumbras of talking heads, chicago house, Opiate-ish plinky-plippy electronics, 2-step, selected ambient works, all abound and bound around. what i love about it, i think, is that 'the warning' sounds like dance music falling blissfully asleep on a sunny afternoon, and that's exactly what i want to do right now, and what i want music to sound like right now. dancing in a (lucid, aphex-ish) daydream is a nice idea, and hot chip do it more than well.

at first i couldn't really get past his voice, the feyness of it. but i was wrong and really it's beautiful and floaty. he sings about birds flying around at some point and that's very appropriate. i remember syd barrett sounding like this, but i might have made that up? i like those bits where he softly breathes 'oh' like a lullaby-version of James Brown's percussive grunts and 'urghs'. he has a lovely 'oh'.


i'd love to see them live- i imagine, i hope, that those occasional bursts of electro keyboards are built up, and the skittery beats amped up, and the album changes into dancefloor killers. that MUST be what happens, surely...

i'd also love to hear robag wruhme remix some of these tracks. that'd be a lot of fun, i think- the two's shared love of both fidgety busy-ness and unashamedly romantic pulls at yr mdma heartstrings could mean some beautiful music. so get on it please, robag.


thanks to The Special One (the one that's my friend Louisa and not Jose Morinho) for getting me, as they say, 'hip' to Hot Chip.

Monday, July 03, 2006

LISTENING SINCE THE PREVIOUS POST:

KSR BURDEN- '430 WEST PRESENTS 'BACK TO THE RHYTHM''
NOZE- 'HOW TO DANCE'
ASSORTED DROSS ON TOP OF THE POPS (INCLUDING PAULO 'NEW LOW FOR POP MUSIC' NUTINI).
THE NEW ROBBIE WILLIAMS ALBUM (HEARD AT WORK)
DJ SHEEN MIX
V/A- 'SUPERLONGEVITY'
NORTH AFRICAN POP ACCOMPANYING BELLY DANCERS AT THE BRITISH MUSEUM.
KEITH FULLERTON WHTMAN- 'PLAYTHROUGHS'
CHAMILLIONAIRE- 'RIDIN DIRTY (UGK MIX)'
LEMONRED HOUSTON HIPHOP MIX
RAY'S JAZZ @ 'RAY'S JAZZ', FOYLES.
LUMINFIRE- 'SEQUIN AMBROSIA' MIX
DERRICK MAY- 'STRINGS OF LIFE'

i was talking about getting a haircut a few days ago, remember? course you don't. that would be insane.
but anyway, i did get my haircut. and yesterday i passed the place where i had got it done, and they were only banging out 'strings of life' at massive volume! what cool fucks. i felt honoured to have given them my custom.

except, when i was in there, they put on that new red hot chili peppers album, which is as wretched as i expected, although that hippy's guitar playing is indeed pretty nice. but- anthony keidis: voice like a punch in the spine.

-----------------
oh and some weirdo put on the whole of the new robbie williams album when i was at work. nutters. it's so bad it makes yr jaw ache. but, pleasingly, there's a real lack of pop tones on there...which i guess is why this album hasn't given rise to songs of the kind of cultural hegemony that he's used to (which is why i'm pleased). robbie williams' songs used to be everywhere. coming from passing cars, played in shops, sung by drunks in pubs. now, people buy the album, listen to it a few times, and that is that. to reprise a recent theme, the songs have gone from the public space into the private space.

this album, despite being a massive success, marks the end of robbie williams' career, i think. it's an album that people have bought out of a sense of duty, or even just out of the sense that it's become a kind of 'done thing' to get his latest releases. and so, millions upon millions have bought it. but i don't get the impression that they've fallen in love with it, or even like it that much.

and next time around, mark my words robbie, the public will not be so kind. the honeymoon period only lasts for one album that doesn't provide the necessary tunes for people to sing along to in their daily lives. he'll be back to playing butlins before he knows it (the liklihood of him doing the graceful, honourable thing of disappearing from the public gaze is brilliantly small, since he crazes and needs publicm attention to a pathological degree).

so, something to look forward to?
------------------------------
yesterday was a disjointed and unsuccessul day as far as music was concerned. obstacles lay wherever i turned. a stiflingly hot, languid sunday...somehow the only thing that seemed right to listen to was a compilation of east african pop made for me by a person called Joe in exchange for some grime tapes. there were lots of slow, treacley songs on there about getting pissed on palm wine. a great compilation. so, this was ALL i wanted to hear. but i couldn't find it. tearing through the shelves of CDs and boxes of CDs in frustration, i still couldn't unearth it. i resigned myself to silence, and resolved, as so often before, to finally, rationalise my record collection.
so, if yr reading this Joe- i'm sorry. i don't know where it is, but yr compilation was a gem.

the afternoon brought a trip to Foyles, after the seeing the tremendous exhibition of Islasmic calligraphy at the British Museum. i've never been to the cafe in Foyles before, but god it's lovely! it situated to one side of Ray's Jazz, a shop within a shop, and you get to stare out onto the Borders opposite and congratulate yrself on being right-on and not throwing yr lot in with the evil (?) corporate giants and their buckets of starbucks slop.

gazing out over london slowly melting into the tarmac, i felt this really strong, sudden, desire to listen to Art Tatum. once again, it seemed like the only thing that would do. and, with ray's jazz right next to me, now seemed a perfect time to stock up on some art tatum records (all my tapes are up north, in the place of my birth).
but then. i realised i was wearing a trilby, partly out of an attempt to keep the sun off me, and partly out of a burgeoning obsession with Geoffrey Boycott. and, obviously, you just can't go and buy jazz records while wearing a trilby. to do so would be to present yrself as an object of (justiafiable) utter hatred from your fellow man. not to mention the feelings of self loathing.
and so, no art tatum.

another failure.

then my stereo spat out the new Hot Chip album, refusing even to consider playing it.

exhausted, i stick on keith fullerton whitman's sine-zen masterpiece 'playthroughs' and go to sleep.