Beards Of Raljax

Saturday March 25th 2000 - Suburban Knight, TBMC - Dublin

2012-02-15T04:36:00.000-08:00

Best set of music i ever heard with the best dj ing performance as well.
When Suburban Knight takes off his sweatshirt it's serious! (he was wearing a UR shirt)
It's the techno equivalent (in all ways) of this:

Jack Nicklaus took off his sweater on the 18th tee at St Andrews in the British
Open 1970 playoff with Doug Sanders - and drove the green. Like Babe Ruth pointing to the fences

(wouldn't have happened if Sanders hadnt choked on 2 footer t win in reg - still painful to look at)

That is what propelled him onward in his career.

Had been suffering a 3 year drought - for him.....

70 -72 was the best he ever played - won on sheer talent -almost won the Grand Slam in 1972

After that - he won on the mental aspect...

Techno is so similar to golf - many have the skills but so few can execute under pressure.
It is ALL IN THE MIND.

S K played the flip -'Stardancer' - somehow mixing it into 'Der Klang Der Famile' - but this being generally overlooked illustrates the power of Detroit.

One Of The Greater Tells #1

2012-02-14T12:07:00.000-08:00

People who constantly use other peoples' name as a pivot in conversation to maintain (usually) or attempt to gain (watch them flounder) dominance.

Now this might not be an unmuddied lake right now but i want you to listen out for it. I have been noticing it more and more recently and i can't really work out why it's tolerated. It's a form of bullying really and you can very quickly spot one of these people because on meeting you they appear quite confident but you will notice that they scramble to get your name - which you should avoid giving or at least stall on giving for as long as you can. Starved of this name-oxygen they will feel off kilter as they aren't able to hammer you into submission by continually using your name - this is your chance.

Try this - Pause for about 6 seconds before responding to one of their prods.
Act as if you haven't done anything unusual. Everyone gets freaked out by pauses so you will see him/her begin to flap. Then, after another pause, begin calling them a name that isn't their actual name - they will have given you their name in an earlier attempt to find out your 's.

Am i just being hateful?

I don't think so - this is just some armour if you need it so that you can get home and get on with your life with as little of what part of your head you dangle into the work-pool wrecked as possible.

:

Glenn Underground

2012-02-14T04:18:00.000-08:00

Never heard this one before.
Really sounds like a musician at work - a man playing different instruments and using machines creatively.

Superb.

Ohhhhh! There's still so much to find...

2012-02-12T12:50:00.001-08:00

Been O.D. ing on Sandwell District this week -

2012-02-07T12:35:00.000-08:00

I only have the CD version of the album - LVD - not the cd you gave me - i can't get it to play - but there isn't a duff one on it. It's just so deep and well made.

If it wasn't for Downwards, Karl O'Connor, Peter Sutton, David Sumner... then this monstrosity by Shifted couldn't exist. What's it like to close your eyes to this kind of music in 2012? Honestly, i couldn't tell you as i haven't done it yet. But i did get to do it a few times in 2011 - most notably in Berghain (clear memories of people going berserk to 'Hunting Lodge' and demanding to know what it was - and not being surprised when i found out a few months later . It feels like all your techno dreams have come true and yet beyond that because it feels like all the promise and funk and originality of Detroit Techno has been digested by a few of these artists and expressed in this incredibly dark, melancholic and moving way that still blows your head off and makes you want to go out clubbing. There's something about this sound that makes you feel part of a secret society - something that rarely happens in your 30's as everything just seems a bit stale - but not this.
Not, for example, these:

Like a colossal descending Monty Python fist, this nonchalantly crushes every single lingering vestige of that disgusting borefest 'minimal' Sure, this references Sleeparchive, AFX, Blueprint Records, Surgeon, Robert Hood, Luke Slater...and is actually (amazingly) about 5 different tracks in one but what it turns into in its core is a hypnotising piece of trance - in its true form. Something you could easily go completely mad to and get lost inside - like a Convextion live set - and with that stunning extra breakdown at 5.49 - pure 'further Design' vintage James Ruskin - you realise that this is the techno you've always adored - this is the sound you have been waiting for and you are letting yourself back into the club you once loved so much and felt such a privileged part of but somehow squeezed yourself slightly out of - and it's all thanks to the music and it is life affirming. And the that last string laden section after the vocal snippet - this is more of a symphony than a tune and it is a rallying cry and it's alright that many people are kind of copying this sound because what else could you do for a while when it is this good? and S D may have disbanded but that's just a situationist smokescreen homage any way - how could these people ever stop when they are this good and they know how needed they are? They can feel it because it must kill them how good this stuff is as well because they love techno too.. Incredible stuff.

As one of the youtube posters says this is ' a triumph'. Sort of a deep house tune but in their style - perfect head music, perfectly executed again with that searching, nagging;ly sad after taste that fits just right and is so hard to find i used to call it 'Lonely Kicks' but is everywhere on this cd .

The Vinyl version is £100.

Help.

After Sebald

2012-02-03T16:21:00.000-08:00

Yaptain’s Log – 02/02/2012: Patience (After Sebald)

(1) First thoughts on waking?
(a) I’m alive! (b)wife (c) Sebald (d) lard (e) sickie (f) techno (g) work
(2) Soundtrack to breakfast?
Silence, drips, bells (eight), pipes and vitamin C lozenge dissolving.
(3) Immediate and unbridled crushing of initial optimism/ onset of uncanny sensation of doom/ creeping déjà vu?
All three set in as I did up my boots.
(4) Walked to work?
Negative – walked to tube due to fear of bike theft at ICA. Managed to reflect on the possible meaning of the title of the documentary as I climbed the steps to Limehouse DLR Station – is this what Max would have wanted? Patience? Did Max ever listen to Extreme? (Reproached self for non - zay balt eeeean thoughts).
(5) Retained solitary status unless listening to a stranger’s unspooling history?
Negative – although managed to avoid conversing outside of the unavoidable professional mutterings. Drunk in the empty class room's loss as I sat there marking with the lights off in the late afternoon glimmer of a tired sun.
(6) Walked to the ICA?
Negative – see above.
(7) Manufactured a walk to drum up Sebaldian state of mind?
Alighted at Bond Street – walked briskly southwards – examined the pavement and highest levels of buildings – avoided eyes. Listened to ‘Gutted’ by Burial and ‘No Red Stopping’by Two Lone swordsmen on repeat (among the most Sebaldian tones I own).
(8) Sebaldian encounters?
The guy in Sister Ray was very subdued – I managed to confuse him by asking if the Drexciya double pack was brand new. He thought I meant just released – I meant had anyone listened to it. I surprised myself with this but I suppose I always want to try to make sure of this yet don’t. Having the Drexciya in hand lead only to thinking about how the sound and effect of Sebald’s voice was very similar to James Stinson’s – their voices were keys apart but both reverberated slowly, revealing as much in timbre as in the details disclosed. They, as artists, were on a par.
(9) Impressions of the crowd at the ICA?
Anticipated mix of late middle aged corduroyed literary types, poseurs arriving late with (clearly empty) alpine ruck sacks, one massively insane man (massively obese leaning back worryingly in seat and giggling to himself), todd masters (moi aussi), Brian Sewell (also a toddmaster - supremely ruffled), intoxicated mid 50's 'arty night out' types in small groups, jotters (so busy being writers they must take notes during a a mjestically retro 'Pearl and Dean' reel) and two American girls sitting behind me - key quote (during that new and appallingly shot BMW 3 Series advert )
"My dad bought a BMW - it was his mid life crisis "
"My dad has a BMW as well"
"We were like - how are you going to send your kids to College now?"

Did Max count on this? Are they worthy of Max?

(10 ) The Narrator of extracts from the books?
Jonathan Pryce - an excellent choice.
(10.5) Biggest belly laugh?
Iain Sinclair explaining that translation (Max's work was translated from German even though he could easily have written in English) leads to unexpected results - Midsummer Murders translated into French becomes existentialist in tone!
(11) The soundtrack by The Caretaker?
Staggeringly apt, brilliantly complementary - moving. During the end titles i had a terrible desire for an industrial 4/4 Kick to come hammering in but this was my problem, no-one else's and it in no way detracted from the impact of the final image.
(12) Final image?
A photographer took 50 + photos of a firework exploding at the roadside where Max died. His focus was the smoke residue floating in the air after the firework exploded (an homage to a death ritual in 'Ever Decreasing Circles').One of these smoke images bore an uncanny resemblance to Max's mustachioed face - the filmmaker morphs from this image - using a multiple exposure effect - of the smoke into Max's face and back again.
(13) Walk outs?
None.
(14) Reception?
Muted awe and dogged layering on of garments.
(15) Mis-cues?
Only an Andrew Motion poem - pointless.

Deep!

2012-01-20T10:39:00.000-08:00

On Christmas day i sat in mass and i was dying to turn around as the music began and scream 'stick on some Omar S'. I was thinking deeply about this tune. Everything i love about techno is present in this one. I could trip for years on this one and someone probably is doing just that.

(how close to death are you flogging your) WORKSONA?

2012-01-18T12:33:00.000-08:00

So this is the defining battle of our lives - mired in the trenches of work hell, reeking of coffee bum mouth, limping towards a weekend during which time accelerates tenfold towards that perpetual 5 a.m. monday breakdown: it's you against 'the man' - and the man has you in tank full of sharks with the 48 hour munchies, wearing an undissolvable waffle lattice suit forged from pure msg crystals in liquid shark-nip that's treacling around your body and you can feel those sharks closing in even though you are blindfolded and all that's left is the tissue thin persona mask you try to hide behind but this is seaming apart faster than Graham Dott on a micro dot, so let's have a look at these personae and hope that ours' isn't quite as piss transparent as it could be even though we know it is and we are doomed and it's time to throw in the towel and lie down some where and cry and never go back until it's all over and you can actually breathe through those sobs and maybe smile.

(1) Mister Calm - fuck me this is a bad one - YOU ARE FUCKED! Big time. Appearing to take everything in your stride is the worst possible recourse - now you have to remain unruffled. As if a grenade went off inside your mouth one lucky time and you were undamaged, unfazed, now you must remain so as they explode all over you eleven times a day and 26 times on a monday. The gulf between worksona and actual self is so vast (after a few years) it eventually becomes impossible to execute this double life and if anyone ever sees you as you really are you're finished and there's no going back, ever. You are going to crack and it isn't possible to slowly transform from Mister Calm into something more manageable so you might as well embrace the fracture and just turn up for work 4 days late covered in lemon curd saying only the word 'yabbage' once every four seconds until they take you away.

(2) The Drunk - everything you do or say is filtered through this perceived fact. Not as difficult or as risky as it sounds (as long as you aren't actually regularly plastered in work) - anything you do appears heroic considering how it looks like you are up to 6 am every night drinking Special Brew in the park . Getting drunk is also something almost everyone does and would prefer to do rather than being in work sober - so it has that vicarious allure built in but unless you are an alcoholic i imagine it is a long hard game and how do you make your breath stink of booze if you aren't even drinking? One way would be to gargle Kaliber for 20 minutes every morning before work and then at regular intervals during the day in a clandestine way. People stay out of your way, you never have to socialise after work and you could be horrendously hung over (for real) or quite pissed and no one would notice. Enticing.

(3) The Alpha - being (in your own sick opinion) (a) top dog within a cesspool of broken minds that is a work environment is something you are driven to aspire to even if you hate yourself and everything you ever do. This involves such repeated mainlining of self disgust/colleague intimidation, it's a miracle you manage to clamber up even a quarter of a rung, but you do it because you are a winner and you will die alone surrounded by bank statements in a Philoctetes cave with only your sores to keep you company.

(4) The Shambles - work for you involves only the panicked postponement of that moment (sweet release) when the avalanche of paperwork you haven't done, the tasks you put off before they were even alloted to you, then wrote on a list, then abandoned, then denied ever existed, finally catch up, when the lie(s) you have lived for so long begin to crystallize upon your body to the point where everyone can see the truth - when you have to hold out your arms and say these words 'i can no longer do this- i am in the net' and you peel back the lid on what you have been hiding and running from and it's one piece of paperwork with 4 words written on it and it says 'i'd prefer not to' and then you can finally skulk off and go and fall asleep on a sofa in a library for 3 years , six pages into 'Stark' by Edward Bunker because this is the actual extent of any scale of how much 'work' you are capable of and that you should aspire to - drooling your life away inside someone else's already dissolving reverie.

(5) The Exit Strategist - Work provides your raison d'etre - leaving (this place of - this exact profession) work. You might as well bring a shovel in and tunnel your way out. The danger is that this becomes simply the way in which you allow yourself to become institutionalised - any exit strategist hanging around in the same job for longer than a couyple of years will probably never make it out. Their doom is to endlessly plan yet never act. This one leads to madness very quickly. Good luck.

(6) The Disclosure Succubus - He/She tells you deeply intimate (inappropriately frank) details almost instantly so that you are chained to them and (hopefully) begin to feel somehow responsible for them. This is fucked up shit that must be avoided at all costs. These people are dangerous because their modus operandi basically involves preying on others like a person who would trap an animal and then periodically torture it whilst keeping it alive and refusing to let it go free - because (they believe) no one would ever be interested in them ordinarily no matter what they do or say. A lot of the stuff they disclose will also be made up. If you are a D S - take up a hobby that eats up all of your free time outside of work - a solitary hobby - something like free diving in marmite (be original). If you are currently suffering at the hands of a D S - latch onto their most outlandish disclosure and endlessly bring it up until they realise you know it's all bollocks - just go around mentioning it to everyone and eventually he/she will move to another country and start again.

(7) The Joker/Clown - You are Colin Hunt. Fair play - we salute you.

(8) The Office Bike - help.

(9) The Lick - everyone knows.

(10) The Nice Guy - you must be independently wealthy - work is not a hobby.

Coda.
In his book 'Wartime' Paul Fussell wrote that in the Second World War the Anerican military 'learned that men will inevitably go mad in battle and that no appeal to patriotism, manliness, or loyalty to the group will ultimately matter'. So 'in later wars things were arranged differently' - e,g, in Vietnam 'it was understood that a man fulfilled his reprieve if he served a fixed term, 365 days, and not days in combat either but days in the theatre of war'. In this war we wage on 'the man' there are no reprieves, no floating in the Gulf of Ton-kin, no Rand R's. It's just relentless carnage.

SICKIE!

The Peak Of Human Civilization?

2012-01-11T11:34:00.001-08:00

On a medieval sounding tip again

2012-01-10T11:29:00.001-08:00

Missed Cylob off the previous list.
This also reminds me of a Tim Buckley song a mad amount but not in a head recking way as it's my favourite one by him:

Serene Polygon Windowesque 808 clicks at 3.32!

BVDUB

2012-01-10T11:02:00.000-08:00

I once had a dream where i was ship wrecked and making it ashore, noticed that the birds on this island sung techno (my/our definition of 'techno').
Those birds sounded like this:

Doesn't look like BVDUB is playing live anywhere at the moment - hopefully this will change.

From The Old To The New

2012-01-09T12:58:00.000-08:00

The annual catch up with LVD - he baz and i screaming "finger me ball" in ever increasing volumes in the only bar you can go to - served up this gem (ta LVD - you never miss what i miss):
Ian O'Brien and Kirk DeGiorgio -not just that it doesn't fail or couldn't fail
- it's amazing.

Another 2011 release that could have come out in '87, '91, '93, '94 or 4004...
Techno is aging well.

Memories from the future - J. Magik came back in a big way in 2011 with this: Jungle- it needs those amens and the kind of melody here at '3.06 and of course this type of rolling bass line is just medicine at this stage.

Susumu Yokota - one of his greatest

2012-01-09T12:04:00.000-08:00

in some secret place at the back of your mind let this one play.

Fuck Yes

2011-12-17T11:41:00.000-08:00

Mid 90's Fixation

2011-12-17T07:42:00.000-08:00

It's getting worse. I thought i was reaching the mid point in all the stuff i want to buy from this era but this is not remotely possible. I think Rising High Records, for example, released some of the best music ever and i continue to find releases that i'm not familiar with that i will buy without hesitation.

'93 was like this:

and then by Sept '95 we had this:

Attempting Once More The Nort East Face Of Mount Gay

2011-12-09T10:11:00.000-08:00

The World's Most Techno Parents
Two teenagers with appalling taste in music embark on a week of techscoverey in the company and abode of 2 of the greatest techno fiends on this planet.

Episode One

Claire (17) - a Michael Buble devotee and Harold (15) - convinced he will soon achieve his dream of becoming fifth member of JLS - say goodbye to their ignorance and board a plane for Berlin.

On arrival they are driven to a fairly innocuous looking detatched bungalow in the suburbs of North Berlin.
They will be spending the week as the children of Sven Vath and Richie Hawtin.

Having settled in they get their hair cuts (asymmetrically parted undercut reverse mullets) and Richie locks them in the bunker where they "listen" to a loop of Substance Abuse mixed in and out of a Ricardo Villalobos track (unreleased) comprising of duck farts interspersed with minimal percussion builds and a sample of Sven saying "techno ya". This loop last 17 hours. Richie and Sven head out dancing.

Day 2 (evening)
Sven and Richie still haven't made it home. One of the cameramen smashes open the door to the bunker only to find Claire and Harold dancing around the bunker, wild eyed and taking turns saying either "techno" or "ya" and flicking their fringes worryingly to emphasise their every gesture.

Day 3
Richie has made it home and decides to enlist Claire and Harold's help in creating a new double pack for Minus. He shows Claire how to make tea (Berlin style) and he presses record as he and Harold press buttons randomly as they high - five for the web cam. After delivering the tea,Claire mixes down the 7 tracks and records her own remix of the inner track of the second 12 inch - calling it 'Exploding The Buble' (my techno epiphany).
Richie sticks the tracks and the remix up on Beatport as Sven staggers in covered in clams.

Day 3 (evening)
Sven, having recovered, treats Claire and Harold to a masterclass in how to dj whilst off your face without gurning - EVEN when you don't have access to the highest grade chemicals on the planet.
[Certain legal guidelines regarding the procurement of banned substances and the administering of banned substances to minors overlooked].

Day 4
Claire and Harold, both suffering from a mysterious 24 hour virus, lie in bed listening to ambient techno (of only German origin) all day.

Day 5
Richie and Sven spring their big surprise. Claire and Harold fly to Ibiza in the Minus jet and play back to back all nighters in the second room of Cocoon as Richie and Sven do the same in the main room.

Note/Disclaimer over the end credits:

Claire now lives, dj 's and produces techno in Berlin. She occasionally makes the tea.

Harold is the producer of JLS' "underground" 4th album and is an in demand soundtrack artist.

Come Bine With Me

Down to The Bile

2011-12-06T13:46:00.000-08:00

was superbooked: boking me ring up.

Here's a mix to commemorate:

transcendental-medication

Nice Free Mix

2011-12-01T11:02:00.001-08:00

http://www.verdant-recordings.com/mixes_aurora.htm

Extend That Baird?

2011-11-29T11:53:00.000-08:00

2 things struck:
(1) very few people are going around personifying bairds to drum up sympathy - where's the Bairds Rights march?
(2) M-theory - what the farg's all that about?

If you fancy a ponder then here is some music:
M-Theory

Completely Slipped My Mind

2011-11-22T11:37:00.000-08:00

All Time Classic Hood

2011-11-20T12:46:00.000-08:00

The musicality is stunning.

DJ Bone

2011-11-20T12:17:00.000-08:00

8minutes 15 seconds in and beyond

I'll beg him to play this:

Unbelievable Releases This Year.

2011-11-17T12:01:00.000-08:00

owowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowwwwwowwww

2011-11-17T11:45:00.000-08:00

This is the one Raster-Noton track i love (so far).
It's a great piece of control.

Too black-Too Strong (4.45)

2011-11-13T12:21:00.000-08:00

Lard Taken Minimizing Comedown...(LVD).

Omar S Magic

2011-11-12T16:41:00.000-08:00

He has already given so much.

Why Not Believe In Me?

2011-11-12T04:56:00.000-08:00

Heard this first on The Laboratoire Mix. DJ Bone uses it in his 'Attack 70' Mix.
It's all about how they are mixed but these types of vocals are great - especially out - CANNOT wait to be in the presence of a Detroit dj once again - what they do with the music is so different.

It's every 8th thought already...
LTMR.

new background test failure

2011-11-11T14:21:00.001-08:00

Unfasten Your Eatbelt

2011-11-11T14:09:00.000-08:00

In these times – I defer to and endlessly see evidence of the beautiful poignancy of Arnie’s oft misunderstood masterpiece ‘End Of Days’ (joke) – with things like the Guardian’s Eurozone debt crisis live blog actually existing rather than being a Charlie Brooker in joke, it’s important to stuff lard into your gob as frequently and guiltlessly as possible because we don’t really have much else left at this point, unless of course lard doesn’t do it for you, in which case I cannot speak for you.

As Fierce Ruling Diva (not joking) rightly testified: ‘You’ve got to believe in something…’. Why not believe in lard?

We have to eat, therefore we have to cook. We have to brush our teeth, drink fluids, pick our snouts, Rafael Nadal, cry in the shower, desperately spray on el mexicano, snick ourselves off a myriad of edges, bow down to the man, sniff newly and already opened milk, make small talk, trump... on a daily basis but cooking is the (cheapest thing to make tv about) flavour of the month and there's fank all we can do about it.

It’s good fun cooking and conversation about upcoming meals is the one staple of couple conversation that never gets tiring or bitter. It isn’t easy though. To just switch off and cook something or make something and then eat it. To filter out the shitstorm of foodism engulfing this planet right now.

There are some things you can do to lift the burden ever so slightly. Visualizing Gino Di Campo breaking into Paul Young’s house and stealing his guitar does help. In extreme cases role playing this scenario can successfully lure someone back off the ledge.

Page 73 of the manual: ‘How To Avert Suicide of Individuals Who Can No Longer Abide Nigel Slater’s Existence’, Subsection 14 – Suicidee has climbed onto a high precipice screaming words to the effect of “SIMPLE SUPPPPPPPAHHHHHHHHHHHHH…”

Calmly Explain to the subject that Gino DiCampo – who somehow, in spite of his giant steps in that direction, isn’t even remotely as infuriating as N. S. (don’t actually say his name) and is in reality a guitar thief who doesn't even come from Italy. Beg for his/her/their assistance in reconstructing the break into Paul Youngs’ house for an episode of Crimewatch.

The rationale is that in decoding the DiCampo myth the subject may be able to subconsciously come to terms with the fact that Nigel Slater isn't actually as horrendous as he/she/they are imagining.

I hope for the day when eating is slightly less trendy and swallows up slightly less of the eternal venn diagram that is not topping ourselves out of shame because of how we allow ourselves to be when we are in work.

When it could be possible to get over this whole cooking thing a bit and just enjoy getting buckt out of our minds and eating only as a way of staying alive because. if we are honest, the conversation is more fun if we replace food with booze and so on.. Unfortunately i'm not really qualified to advocate such an approach because just being in a shop brings on that atonal squealing Gene Hackmann (even when i saw it as a 10 year old watching it with my da it was clear that this is actually Gene Hackman's life rather than the ultimate example of the method) hears in the French Connection because there are crisps -or even worse Corn or Maize snacks on sale in that building.

I'm addicted to lard - and i mean crisps heer - but thers' no L.A. meetings that i can find in this area.

eugh starving
eughh stoofed
eughhh stoofed
eughhhhhhstarvin.

Elevator Fascination Explanation

2011-11-11T13:45:00.001-08:00

When my bike was out of action and now that it is gone, i'm in a lift 2 times a day. The songs i stick up as 'elevator music' are the ones that work best in that setting.

More Jeff Mills

2011-11-05T05:19:00.000-07:00

Elevator music.

Medieval Sounds

2011-11-04T17:24:00.000-07:00

I'm not trying to create a new genre 'medieval techno' or something, although i have used this to referenced a particular sound of electronic music that i love. So i thought i better stuck some examples up.
(1) Surgeon - 'Backwards man'

This is just nuts and i'm glad to remember hearing it out at least a couple of times - played by Rob Hall (Leeds '09) and Jams Ruskin (Dublin '99). When listened to amongst a set of even the best techno the weirdness of the demented harp in this one sticks out a mile and i wish more producers would try to use sounds beyond the regular palette offered up: e.g. why not spice up the dub-techno sound with some cello melodies or some bansuri OR ANYTHING ELSE?

(2) I keep the 'Bytes' CD in a car i often drive or get driven in in Ireland. This is the one i keep coming back to although this whole album is really the reason why i love this sound so much.

To me this is the essence of techno music: it is so musical and has that tribal quality - without ever compromising itself or trying to be anything but itself. If you isolated those drums and played them out just as a rhythm track everyone would dance - i saw this kind of thing done in the Panorama Bar - i think there are techno tracks with which this is possible and those where it just wouldn't work. The important thing is to buy as many tunes from the first category as possible as having this rhythmical integrity allows the melodies and bass and whatever else to be free and subtle and anything but repetitive - even though the opposite could easily be the case if the beats were made lazily (or just by people without talent).

(2.5) I can't do this list without this other one by Black Dog Productions and also from 'Bytes' - this is the remix of 'Xepher' ; on the Trance Europe Express Vol, 1 Comp.

(3) Ed Chamberlain 'Styge'.

There's an Ochre remix which is even heavier on the harp but misses out on the staccato backwards foreign language vocal - which is what really makes this one. I also really like the serenely cyclical kind of Reese-bass here. I find this song very useful in getting my brain in some kind of working order on the way to work - it has been an ever present over the last few years on the headphones.

(4) Richard H Kirk : 'Oneski'.
I have bought 3 copies of 'Trance Europe Express Vol 2' at this stage and this is one of the main reasons. The build up to '2.45 and then the release of that 7 note melody is right up with the best of UR. I read an interview with Rod Modell where he said he had his home fully wired so he could listen to loops and dubs 24 hours a day - i know i could do 24 hours of this one no problem. i know these records must reek of garlic as i love sticking this on as i chop and stir - it's all about the stirring.

(5) FSOL - 'Vit - Drowning - Through Your Gills I Breathe'.

I'm so relieved the Kink Fact Mix has revived this one as it is far too amazing to lie unlistened. I don't think FSOL are cherished enough - i listen to 'Tales of Ephidrina' all the time and they have created so much great music but are taken for granted a bit.

This list could go on and on but i will pause now. I hope having the toughest song at the beginning doesn't prove alienating. I will try to do a mix of all this type of stuff when i get a chance (medal or cry?).

ohhhh Jeffrey

2011-11-02T12:46:00.000-07:00

Rainbow?
Rainbow was a really big show for me when i was a boy. Looking through those different shaped windows meant a lot - it just seemed like a brilliant idea. Why are all the windows we look through the same shape? What harm would it do to look through a window in the shape of an ant every once in a while? Having previously detailed my hobby of looking through the front door periscope, it's necessary to confirm that this is indeed now a hobby because i haven't stopped doing it - like i have stopped, for example, trying to chip a squash ball - with a pitching wedge - into the absolute corner where two walls meet to make the ball stop dead - did it once - out of about 50 goes, but only over a few weeks and have now stopped and have been trying to chip a table tennis ball over the back of the sofa from inside 2i.5 metres (still unsuccessfully) for the last 3 months.

After i check the doors are locked before bed, i always look through the periscope for a few moments and sometimes for slightly longer. It's now ingrained even though i still haven't seen anything of note or even remotely alarming and i have no idea what i would do if this happened.

I think it is important to keep going though - if you have that feeling that something might occur then there's no point in abandoning ship. I also like how this is looking just for the sake of looking: there's no perceived goal in mind. This is why it's calming - i hesitate to call it zen-like but it is.

About 6 years ago i regularly took a train from West Ham to Barking. Twice a week or so i saw a builder on his way home and every time i saw him he was eating a packet of Walkers Max - Cheese and Onion. I agree wholeheartedly with Taquitos.net: - http://www.taquitos.net/snacks.php?snack_code=81
These crisps are ALL about that onion onslaught and even though these Max crisps have been robbed of a certain taste/strength/majesty more than others (e.g. Steak/Chilli McCoy;s) by the crisp indsustry's recent revolution (BIG reduction in saturated fat and salt) these still scream out to be bought and enjoyed.
But it wasn't that this man was such a fiend of this exact type of lard that always caught my eye - it was how he folded the bag after those last few crisps had been quaffed (he always straightened the edges and tipped the final crumbs into his mouth - a good idea when eating crisps this riddled in onion powder). He folded his crisp packed into a triangle - fairly conventional these days - but he did it in a way that appeared to give him a deep sense of satisfaction - a satisfaction that i could also feel and which seeped out around him in the carriage and into the people around him.
I emulated this man, taking care to alter my technique as i am a natural born grasper of the last remaining crisps - onion powder or (even) prawn powder / (SCAMPI FRIES - ) (Skips) included and i have found that this is a relaxing thing to do on a train , in spite of my normal reticence towards eating inside a tube (would you eat if you were lying inside a coffin filled with shit?) and in spite of the fact that the way i eat crisps - stuffing 3 - 4 at a time into my gob as if my life depended on it- could never be described as anything like a meditative act. I don't think anyone else even noticed and i'm sure that my eating didn't diffuse calm vibes around the carriage - but it was worth a go. I think the fold and tip movement is where the real peacefulness comes from in this whole thing but it just doesn't come naturally to me.
Not like looking through a door periscope for a bout an hour a month for absolutely no reason.

Techno is SO GOOD Right Now!

2011-10-27T13:02:00.000-07:00

If i get to hear this Shed remix in a club before i am done i will be so happy...impossible to overstate the impact.

Shed on fire.

Inner Science - am hunting down the 2011 release 'End Of The Beginning' - stunning stuff.

FRENCH HOUSE IS not DEAD!

Amazing hand-claps and hi-hats here with a good dose of Larry Heard slapped in.

Tight Chords Indeed

2011-10-27T12:41:00.000-07:00

Played Murvagh Golf Course on Tuesday - it felt like this song and i did stand face to the sky with the rain pouring down after a birdie on the 17th to set up a tie, having been 7 down at the turn - HAVE IT!

I Can Feel The Soil Falling Over My Head

2011-10-20T14:01:00.000-07:00

2011-10-15T17:19:00.000-07:00

Driving With Moses

Working out the exact chronology hasn’t been that easy but I now know for sure that this happened in early October 2000. Last Wednesday was the full moon so we are mas o menos talking 11 years ago.

I met Moses in the street as I was walking down to SuperValu to buy the cheese salad bep (with sweetcorn) - my customary lunch at that time. I was working for a charity which was an umbrella org. of _______ Council. I was the admin officer. I was a broken man (dumped). The line ‘too much fucking perspective’ springs to mind. Back living at home after a fire in my previous flat that had burnt all my notes and a lot of my vinyl. Addicted to techno and crisp sandwiches and not much else to show for a quarter century of nish.

So I was walking down the street and on the walkman (tape) was Reflections On Reflections by As One. One of the pleasures of technoing out in _____ is asking yourself ‘has anyone ever listened to this in ______?’ – You can do this everywhere you go in Ireland outside of the cities – it’s funny. My eyes were habitually cast downwards but there was no missing Moses as he ambled up the hill towards me. I slowed and then just stopped. He was going to say something. He did.

Hey man. Do you know where I could book a flight to L.A?

I said I was going to the library and he could do it there. We called in at SuperValue so I could get my bep – the spring onion chunks were FUCKING COLOSSAL – his phrase – they were. He remained bepless.

We walked towards the library – the conversation at that point just broached the fundamentals – where, WHY, who, when. It was clear that he was from the west coast of America. It was clear that he was a hippie. It was clear what was afoot when he uttered, in a fantastically off hand manner, the phrase:

I’m a mycologist. I’ve been travelling the globe for two years and now I’m going home.

Now then. At that (this) stage I wasn’t exactly a mycologist but I knew I loved mushrooms. This was beginning to look up. The only other person I met randomly (in _____ – at all) over this 12 month period when I lived and worked there was a bearded Deep Space Nine fiend in whose company I went berserk on Absynth and got done by the cops. You just don’t meet people like Moses wandering around in _______.

He sat outside the library as i ate my bep – no matter how many chews you take of very large chunks of spring onion you’re gonna be burping like a fucker for hours. I shared this small insight. He nodded.

He told me he’d been on this trip for 2 years since he split up with his fiancée. He told me his father was a famous professor. He had a purple baird so intense I could hardly even think about when next I was going to get down to Dublin to get buckt. He actually emanated a purple (bairded) haze around his self. He wasn’t able to book his flight – or wouldn’t do it in the library – so I said he could do it on our pc.

After he booked the flight – lengthier than now on an old dial up – and recovered from the shock of the Anna Kournikova poster – a poster of her arse - hanging above the pc (to this day) – we had veggie burgers (Bird’s Eye – old school: just on the plate (of course he was veggie)), peas and spuds. My parents had the fear big time – they were just about able to tolerate me being in the house but not with someone like this in company. Jesus I would feel the same, but he had just booked a flight out of here and they were intrigued as to what he was doing and he was a good talker – although he wrote the book on saying “Man” in every single sentence and within every utterance – even when he was talking to my mum.

I dropped him back to where he was staying – _________ HOSTEL. He told me why he was in Tyrone– he’d heard – he thought someone might have said something about it somewhere “in Asia” – about a mushroom field overlooking Lough Derg. Had I heard of it? NO but I knew where Lough Derg was. We made the plan – I’d get the car the next day (a Friday – full moon) and get off work early and we’d hit the road.

The journey up was quite nuts because I was full of that nervous energy you get when you are in that ‘SET’ state of mind- almost physically sick yet content because you know it’ s going to be fun. Or at least mental. I decided to lay off the techno and stuck on ‘Seamonsters’. I also had to resist the temptation to ask a thousand questions. I said something along the lines of

I’ve just split up with a girl. I think I know how you feel.

This settled the mood. He didn’t seem remotely nervous about what lay ahead. He was in the zone. I let him do the talking. The road was silent and the moon was coming up. I acknowledged the nag – how am I going to drive back when I’m fucked? I let it come to the front of my mind and then I completely and blissfully forgot about it. It just didn’t matter anymore. This was what I needed. This was it.

Moses knew that the field overlooked the lough and had a Celtic structure – a pagan structure – one that he said was there to mark this field out as being a prime ‘shroom zone’ I kept calling it a cross. It was funny to laugh about this knowing what LD signified – he knew what i meant but I don’t know how he knew.

The field was simple to find – we drove around the lough and the only hill in sight with a structure upon it shone out in the dusk. We parked and climbed over the gate. The silence was awe inspiring, the moon was vast; you could already feel the rhythm of vision.

Moses had 3 paper bags on him which he shook out, handing me one. The first thing he did was to bend down and show me how a mycologist picks a mushroom. We hunkered down and I watched his technique. I had and have no idea what the fuck he was doing although he seemed to believe it was very important. I know that the bit you pick is only the part doing what Terrence McKenna describes as “sun bathing” (in the moon light) whilst the main part is under the ground, and that we should treat the funghi respectfully but he was doing something weird – something that looked a bit like tickling a salmon or something – and at this point I couldn’t even see any mushrooms anyway. What I did see was him putting something straight into his mouth.

We slowly walked up the hill – he continuously collecting, I still looking. When he saw that I couldn’t see them he told me to lie on my belly and look up through the grass towards the sky. After a few seconds I saw them – fuck there were thousands of them. We filled the three bags and ate copiously as we did so.

About twenty minutes later Moses was up on top of the ‘Pagan Cross’ doing kung fu moves like Daniel Son on those water breakers in Karate Kid. My head was gone – I was seeing in the brightest technicolour in the now almost total darkness. The moon glow was a shifting wobble that was becoming hard to ignore and was starting to seize a hold of my chest area. I was already choosing to ignore what I was seeing in the peripheries of my vision as I knew that soon enough these things would occupy the entire field of my experience anyway. The urge to giggle was impossible to repel and my breathing was taking on that ‘Bellows Machination’ so reminiscent of the ‘scooped out’ phase of a bad acid trip but overall I was in extremely fine shape. I thought this then and looking back now I know that I was.

I surveyed the scene. Predictably, Lough Derg, not allowing ginger people in the boat over to the island, black cha and every other conceivable thing that had ever boggled my tiny mind were beginning to converge seamlessly inside the certainty that EVERYTHING WAS STARTING TO MAKE SENSE.

Moses was still perched atop the structure and was now chanting some kind of mantra in a very low yet very loud tone. The giggling/babbling was now savagely upon us. I learned more about mycology in those few hours in that field than anyone could ever know. I even began to understand, interact with and use Moses’ mantra and I’m fairly sure I mastered kung fu. The decision was made that we should probably lay off the ingestion. The moonscape went all TRON. A type of TRON I think you can only really deal with/ actively process once in your lifetime.

At last Moses jumped off the structure. Each breath I took lasted days and I was trying to stop myself from sliding along inside the columns of those breaths as this was beginning to freak me out and was preventing me from taking the breaths that I was convinced were needed to keep me alive.

Moses announced that it was time to drive back. This made sense and the keys were located after about 45 minutes of panic free searching in the grass – they were in my left hand. Much was made of how I am right handed.

We got in the car and resisted the temptation to reverse back to ______ so that we could keep an eye on the structure. I stuck on ‘Reflections On Reflections’ by As One. The first track - Shambala (Reflected By Balil) is one of those pieces of music that could change your life if you heard it for the first time as you burnt your finger off in a toasted sandwich maker. Within this scenario its power was almost terrifying to hallucinate.

The water noises at the beginning and the nature sounds followed by those zen bells and chants – the structure of the song – the phrasing – the truths revealed in sonic droplets you could feel on your skin… We were creeping along a B Road in 2nd gear at 20 mph with the lights off but we were traveling on higher plains and this was the soundtrack to everything that could ever be.

I have never – nor will I ever again – be affected by music in this way. It cannot be described.

The B Roads became an A Road but we decided against switching the lights on and went back onto the B Roads. We drove for hours and hours (real hours). Switching the tape over and over, sinking into our seats, at one with the vehicle. Allowing the music to drive the car. I know my eyes were closed for long periods of time. I blacked out at around 11p.m. at the wheel and in a trance.

I woke up on the floor of the shed in our back garden. This was quite normal as it's where I slept when I was too buckt to attempt entry into the house. The time was 5.30 a.m. The first thing I did was check where the car was. It was parked in the drive. It had been reversed into the drive yet there were no marks or dents that I could see, although there were mushrooms strewn all over the place inside and a tape was hanging half out of the stereo – suspended above the gear stick by its own mangled spools. I whipped the tape out of the player and threw the mushrooms over the hedge. I marveled at my own ultra sensitive night vision and went back to sleep in the shed.

I never saw or heard from Moses again.

My love of UK Electronica and in particular, the medieval nature of some of the output of The Black Dog/ Plaid, continues to this day and will always be a part of me. It is now Autumn although the first frost may have already hit.

There is no rush.

ALWAYS ON SUNDAY

2011-10-09T10:33:00.000-07:00

20 years is a long time.

Output (BOR) has been slow - i've had my purple baird caught inside the gears of a combine for some time now but this week i will be back with more.

tightenye.

Christ!

2011-09-29T15:01:00.000-07:00

All of Type records back catalogue available to stream FREE!
Check the Mokira LP (and more) - beautiful late night tweak-out textures.

Type Records Soundcloud

Blue Screen Of Death

2011-09-28T11:45:00.000-07:00

This up there with Enoch Car Walking With God...

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blue_Screen_of_Death

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH?

BoardsofCanada

2011-09-19T11:27:00.000-07:00

Bit of a holy grail this - how much would you give to see them live? It's bound to happen again soon - maybe some kind of Crosby Stills Nash And Young type thing - Aphex Twin Autechre Boards Of Canada and B 12 (with Stasis on keys). How would that go down? Will Aphex ever play a mellow set live again? The above line up is a tad obvious though. What about Boards Of Canada Bedouin Ascent The Caretaker and Biosphere live - that would be chilled out but there'd be mad hypnotic beats from Kingsuk Biswas. The concept would be they make everything up from scratch, together.

BOC live 2001

Alternative electronic supergroups:

bvdub FSOL Peter Ford and Beaumant Hannant - freakout ambient
Theorem Brothrom States Cim and Ian O'Brien - Minimal latin rave
Luke Slater Mixmaster Morris Plaid and Skylab - ?
Florence Claro Intelecto Pole and Gez Varley - dubby house
Gerald Simpson Detroit Escalator Co Clint Mansell and Phillip Glass -
As One Schatraxx Mark Bell and Andy Weatherall - breakdowns lasting hours
Convextion 4 Hero Jason Pierce and Monolake - never sleep again.

Techno Western Scenario

2011-09-11T12:53:00.000-07:00

I was thinking about this today and it is a bit like 'The Death Of A Disco Dancer' by The Smiths. What happens to BIG techno fiends when they stop, when they don't go out any more, when they don't buy or listen to tunes any more, when they sit in a conservatory somewhere riddled with tinnitus, staring at something in the medium distance, gmawing at something or other that just won't come into focus?

Well, it depends. But there is a possibility that some still active techno fiends will ride into this attempted techno- retirement on some kind of mechanical horse type creatures. And this is one of the tunes that will slowly and unstoppably rise up as they approach. The man/woman will step up to meet them and stare them in the eyes, listening intently and visibly glowing as these tones breath their precious life back into their body and mind and they will admit their treachery and saddle up and ride off into the techno, where they belong, where the rhythm of their (techno) vision is restored unto them and they can once again bask in this music's

eternal goodness.

isolatedmix 18 - Marsen Jules - Drifting in the Liquid Air

2011-09-01T15:15:00.000-07:00

isolatedmix 18 - Marsen Jules - Drifting in the Liquid Air

Experiencing THE WHITE DEATH?
You may make it back to this - or you might not want to.

I've said this a thousand times but if the top 200 global corporations played this in their lifts for a week we'd have a better tomorrow.

Aughhhhhhhhhwwwwwschtappppp.

(alternate link )- it's one of the BOR links! - go to GREAT BLOG - or(yessirmistah):
http://astrangelyisolatedplace.com/2011/07/03/isolatedmix-18-marsen-jules/

Regis In The Mix

2011-09-01T15:03:00.000-07:00

This one ends on 'Jack Me Off' and includes a sublime Envoy tune - 'Dark Manoeuvres' - all menacing cello stabs - that i never thought i'd hear again but adore.

Great mix.
Regis Live @ Sub Club July 2011

Here's 'Dark Manoeuvres'.

Snickopalypse Anois

2011-09-01T14:54:00.000-07:00

Snicking.
It wasn't. It couldn't have been as endemic in my life as it has become since i christened, embraced and began living this life of snicking which sometimes seems like just one agonizing infinitesimally strobing slow motion snick that never ends.

Snicking is so out of control i'm boggled i ever went an hour without snicking or thinking wistfully about a recent self-snick or observing the snicks of another. On monday i snicked the external malleolus of my ankle on a chunk (large) of Whole Nut. Okay, i was in the twitch zone and yes, snicking myself off some chocolate was quite amusing in an outer-bodily experience sort of way, but still. STILL.
I recommend observing the snicks that befall others - they are occurring everywhere. There are snickops everywhere,
It is important to remember that snicking hot-spots aside (toes, knuckles, ankles, knees, shins, shoulders, tip of nose, ribs, hips, thighs), it's possible to snick almost any part of yourself off anything. I have snicked my adam's apple off a wing mirror more than once and the only time i ever tried one of those hand held fans? I snicked a lip - it wasn't pleasant.

Happy snicking.

Global Commuication In The Mix

2011-08-30T11:49:00.001-07:00

Fact Mix

Theorem - 'Stasis' and some ponderables.

2011-08-30T11:25:00.000-07:00

Worthy of the track title - this is beautiful.

If you ask a jovial seeming waiter how he is and he says' "today is my last night: i'm leaving" and you say "why are you leaving?", this represents a ghastly breach of social etiquette (judging by reactions). Does this mean that reacting spontaneously with curiosity is not allowed? Should i have thought to myself - ummmmm, i'd love to know why he's leaving...but i won't ask.
Are Oregano flavoured crisps NOT on sale in Ireland and the UK because (a) we can't consistently say that word or (b) we are afraid of herbs?
When someone asks you if the book you are reading is good - do they expect or even suspect that you would ever say that it's shit? I think i will try this out.
If you listened to (even) every second record you own before buying any more, would your taste in music be so altered that you would buy completely different records than you would if you just go into a record shop now?
Now that everyone wears shades all the time (£1.00 in Primark) when will it become acceptable to wear them full time in work?
How did George Peppard go from Breakfast At Tiffanys to The A team?
What is Joe Pesci at these days?
How is it possible to catch small fish in a plastic bag?
When at the beach in a hot country why are we gripped by the compulsion to read incessantly, voraciously, to the point that you have 4 books on the go at once?
Does Michael Johnson live in England full time? Why?

Unforgotten.

2011-08-27T12:55:00.000-07:00

OUCH. It's not possible to keep track of all these '95 - ish tunes but i'm glad to be reacquainted with this - scary stuff.

Here i s'Farencounters' from the same year - next ep they released - more suited to home listening...

Yes.

Audio Of The CodimAintree Grand National

2011-08-26T15:40:00.000-07:00

I'm Using More Than I Ever Have

Not an entirely unexpected result.

Zoinks.

'NATIONAL ENTRANTS

2011-08-08T09:27:00.000-07:00

N.B. - Lower case indicate this is said condiment's first run at Condimaintree.

KETCHUP
HP SAUCE
MAYONNAISE
MUSTARD
VINEGAR (MALT)
CHILLI OIL
SALAD CREAM
WHOLEGRAIN MUSTARD
SOY SAUCE
WASABI-GINGER SOY
GARLIC MAYO
DIJONNAISE
BURGER RELISH
CHILLI JAM
CHUTNEY
SWET AND SOUR SAUCE
CURRY SAUCE
PERI PERI SAUCE
BBQ SAUCE
HORSERADISH
WORCESTERSHIRE SAUCE
TOBASCO
FISH SAUCE
Tzatziki
CURRYWURST SAUCE
SALSA
Sriracha Sauce
Chimichurri
Harissa
Hoisin Sauce
OLIVE OIL

Non-Runners

(33) Salt - failed mandatory drug test
(34) Pepper - withdrawn lame.

Odds to follow...

2011-08-08T09:11:00.000-07:00

The 2011 Grand National from Condimaintree

There are ten fences, a dip and a final stretch to overcome on the National Course.

The following is a summary of these obstacles:

Fence 1

The Sandwich -

Height: 4 ft 6in

Often met at great speed as the condiments tend to shoot out of their stalls and sprint eagerly to tackle this first Fence: one they are all historically quite adept at handling – 'The Sandwich'.

Constructed of 32 layers (1.6 inches thick each) – 16 different types of bread and fillings ranging from salad to cheeses to meats to crisps and topped with an extra hard BATCH CRUST (heel of) slice.

Low flying jumpers will collide with that heel crust and they will not do so unscathed.

Fence 2

The Pizza- Height: 4 ft 10in; fronted by a 3 ft ditch

The placement of this fence (so near the beginning) causes endless controversy, making this part of the course a focal point for Condiments rights protesters. The ditch itself is narrow and only proves troublesome for the least sure of foot horses, but the real danger here is the jagged edged slices of pizza which catch out many and have been known to bring down even the most skilled jumpers. Expect multiple bail outs at this point and possibly a pile up or two. Vinegar, Soy Sauce, White sauce and even HP Sauce are just some of the contenders who've come a cropper here in the past.

Fence 3

The Hot-Dog

Height: 4 ft 10in; fronted by a 6 ft ditch

A bit of respite at last as the slippery surface of the bratwurst protrudes above the crispy edges of the bread allowing most horses the opportunity to slide over this fence even if they have misjudged their jump. A fence where Ketchup. Mayo, Mustard and the Chilli Sauces traditionally land in front and take up the running.

Fence 4

The Waffle

Height: 5 ft, width 3 ft

The second big test in the race arrives as horses are still adapting to the obstacles. A deceptively tricky obstacle that often leads to falls and unseated riders. ‘The Waffle’ is made up of four giant waffles which must be leapt in one- through a combination of impeccable timing and bravery. Jumpers snagging hooves in lattice holes or failing to span the width of the obstacle end up trampled by other horses or are smashed into the turf, crumpled and with their dreams of glory in tatters. Again this fence favours the heavy hitters and tends to catch out long-odds competitors and ingénues (such as Wasabi Soy – a horse utterly unfamiliar with this kind of fence).

Fence 5:

Beetroot Brook

Height: 5 ft, with a steep drop of 7 ft on the landing side

The drop at this fence often catches runners by surprise. Beetroot Brook has always been a popular vantage point as it can present one of the most spectacular displays of jumping when the horses meet the fence right. There is a small brook running along the landing side of the fence which runs red due to beetroot juice but also the blood of broken condiments often mingles there. A beast of an obstacle, perennially torturing the Mustards, Vinegars and Relishes of this world who struggle to master either the beets that make up this fence or the ferocious drop.

Fence 6

The Chip

Height: 4 ft 6in

One of the smallest on the course, Fence 6 can still catch out any complacent horses. Expect all of the favourites to glide over here and then continue to vie for position as the weaker competitors begin to tail off or pull up.

Fence 7 –

The Cannelloni Turn

Height: 5 ft

The fence is constructed from large steaming hot tubes of pasta which are twisted at an angle of 90 degrees, forcing the horses to perform a twisting jump so they can make a left turn immediately after landing. Many of the condiments are unused to tackling pasta – carnage can ensue.

Fence 8 –

The Burger

Height 5 ft

Relatively straight forward this one and should prove negotiable for most of the field, with the exception of Gravy – this is Gravy’s bête noir.

Fence 9 –

The Cheese Squeeze

Height - Variable

Condiments are well used to taking on cheese but at Condimaintree they have to raise their game and jump through holes of Emmental offered up by a devilishly shifting obstacle constructed from slowly shifting slabs of Swiss Cheese. Horses with reserves of power and bravery can power their way through these holes but weaker horses can easily become trapped and then swept off into the parallel ditches on either side of the fence.

Fence 10

The Dip aka THE PUNISHER

Most feared of all obstacles and rightly so – a devastating dip that seems to come out of nowhere leading those non-fallers into an oval landing which they must jump upwards from – and scramble back up onto the course. The majority of Condiments Rights activists lay siege to this part of the course – lamenting the broken legs and necks this routinely spits out. Not for the faint hearted. The remaining horses should now have a chance of winning – if they are still in contention with the leaders.

Fence 11

The Sushi Rolls – 4 ft.

The softest fence on the whole course – ditchless and a welcome fillip before the final stretch and the chance to ride into the history books. No horse has ever come a cropper at this fence although Gravy and White Sauce have a history of rearing up mid jump – they just don’t go well with anything Asian.

The Final Stretch

The final 6 furlongs comprise an uphill slog that gets progressively steeper. This is an energy sapping battle to the death – testing heart and longevity. Which of our condiments can hold it together for the long haul? Do any of them possess a final kick – considering all they’ve been through? Are any of these condiments just a phase that is now growing tiresome? All is revealed in this grueling final test.

Random 11 below plus one more

2011-08-08T04:01:00.001-07:00

Play tunes (4) and (5) together - adjust volume suitably - they really do go well together.

Forgot this one - perfect summer vibes:

random ten

2011-08-08T03:56:00.000-07:00

(1) recommended by BVDUB.
The Boats...

(2) Mid 90's techno - still so fresh.

(3) Marcel Dettman set-finisher - he must be begged to continue doing this.

(4)Flexitone - Nausicaa (Himadri mix) - Achingly beautiful and sad downtempo electro from Gerald Donald and Brendan M. Gillen from Detroit.- released '96 on Planet E.

(5) Ambient techno is back! It is about time - here is one of the best pieces that will never age.

(6) Recommended by Colette - stunning!
Austra - Beat and The Pulse.

(7) Stunning bass drop at '4.17 - dub techno continues to evolve.
Lucy and Ercolino - So The Nothing Grows Stronger (Dadub Remix)

(8) James Ruskin brings his long missed spacey melodies from 'Further Design' back for this remix of a Lucy track of the excellent LP - 'Beelines For Working Bees'.

(9) Fascinating producer - at the top of his game and amazing live artist.

(9.5) Masterful cover of The Verve somehow returning this song to the majesty of the band's earliest releases.

(10) Most romantic song ever? Blue eyed girls forever.

Then and Now

2011-07-23T10:56:00.000-07:00

May 2008 - you've been caned
1) your mind is mixing the theme to Howard's Way with a deep house track from 94 you never heard that does exist.
2) "that drip is so berlin"
3) in the fish position oblivious to everything with no hope of making it home. It is wednesday afternoon in work.
4) Raver's elbow. Quite possibly raver's knuckle as well - if it's the little finger knucle it is time to get the foot deodorant out.
5) that stinging mouth.
6) what's pilod?
7) she couldn't i said she was i thought.
8) the red light on the wall is better than the minimal dross but together they are better than Orlando Voorn in the other room. (they are).
9) The Sherriff Of Pottingham.
10) smelling milk to see if it's off becos the foil bit came off a bit too easily when it was opened. Picturing the shopkeeper peeling back that foil and blowing bogies into it and then putting a miniature blender down into the milk to get it to milk consistency although it is a tad green - you wouldn't normally notice.
11) parasitosis is the new tamagochi.
12) doctor's note about neck condition to excuse wearing a bow tie.
13) paying barmen for their packed lunces.

July 2011 - You Didn't get Caned
(1) As you dance frantically in a saunaespue sweat monsoon filled with (what is hopefully dry ice)Room 3 Fabric) you can feel the scum/plaque/WTF? building up on the outer edges of your top back teeth
(2) you sweat so much there's no point drinking - best to just keep your mouth open and let some of the rum in your sweat fall into your mouth
(3) ...is it alright to dance at quarter or eighth speed to drum and bass...EVEN beginning to think this.
(4) some of these fellas are while thin
(5) ...is he the MC? That lad there - that boy with the microphone - him there? ...What's he saying?
(6) ...Ms Dynamite doesn't sound that bad...
(7) what kind of fried-egg sandwich do you fancy when we get home?
(8) ...3 dj's seem to playing at once?...
(9) You are able to spot and then pick up a 2 pound coin off the floor
(10) in own bed asleep at 5.30 a.m.

ASC & Bvdub - Symbol #2.2

2011-07-14T07:42:00.000-07:00

Like both producers a lot and together this is very good.

attempt to embed a Song test#1

2011-07-14T07:32:00.000-07:00

Hi.
i think this worked - now it is possible to listen to a tune without losing the text.

help.

Halt The Synonymisation of Our Lives

2011-07-14T07:25:00.000-07:00

Lee Van Dynch on The Tree of Life (and Terrence Malick): "NO ONE SHOWS THE INNER LIFE BETTER”.

The best review possible and why, whether or not you ultimately enjoy it, we all need to sit in a silent (hopefully)darkened room , munch incessantly and take stock.

They (who else but ‘them’) have made great strides towards eponomysing and commodifying everything about our lives but they cannot as yet reach these inner realms.

I thought it might be a good time to trace their attempts thus far.

Emotion / aspect of life ((A.L.W!)help)	Their branding/ Forced synonymising of it	Better embodiment of/ seek solace in
A man breaking/ snapping under pressure	Paul Gascoigne crying	Paul Schrader ‘s ‘Affliction’.
Any attempt by a man to be romantic in any way	The music of Sade	Group On Spa Vouchers (bought as a gift) that are cancelled 5 times in a row and counting
Maths/numeracy	Carol Vorderman	Betting on Virtual Dogs
Any even quasi-intellectual leaning or pursuit	Stephen Fry	Reading a book Tom Paulin’s meltdown on Newsnight
Women	Loose Women	Miranda The Sopranos Almodovar
Men	Top Gear	The Fast Show Schrader “Never get out of the boat” (Apocalypse Now). 2666
Toilet Paper	Labrador puppies	That Podge and Rodge when he blocks the toilet
The inevitability of death	Parky hogging carriage clocks	Sebald’s heart attack at the wheel between Norwich and London Ivan’s XTC The Death of A disco-dancer
Body Dismorphia	Gok Wan (programmes)	That gut-suction mirror check reflex Almodovar
Communicating by phone	BT’s advertising sagas	The Conversation Once Upon A time In America (don’t pick up – ever).
Eating Crisps	Gary Lineker	Relaunch of Quarterbacks Proustian reverie – Roast Beef and Pickle Tudor Specials. Scurvy (Chikatees).
Healthy Eating	Jamie Oliver Crying	Soba Noodle broth on a killer hangover Tampopo Rick Stein
Fat men cooking	The Hairy Bikers	You cooking without holding your gut in
Astronomy	Patrick Moore	Patrick Moore Mayans
Being Old	Last Of The Summer Whine	Not boozing ‘til 5 pm (every day) Endless faffing – the sport/ Tao of faffing (taking 35 mins to ‘get ready’ to go to the shop to buy milk).
Religious Fundamentalism	Al Qaeda	Tony Blair Christians
Hubris	ITV	Education The One Show Eamonn Holmes Bill O’Herlihy Evan Davis Country File Attempting to make crisps healthier
Sadness / contemplation	A plastic bag in the wind Piano music	Ivan’s XTC Uk electronic Drexciya
Madness	Boris Jonson	L’Emploi Du Temps Luggage doors operate...
Joy	Morrisson’s adverts The Nike Whoosh on Tiger’s ball as it drops	Will Oldham That Viart Bep Autechre Live Fridays First time plastered on rum having switched from vod (A WHOLE NEW WORLD) Committing to ignoring the ‘no boozing’ rule on jeff
Schadenfreude	Ricky Gervais’ humourless and sadistic misinterpretation of it	Andrew Castle’s life John Parrot Wenger The Commonwealth Games
Altruism	Geldof/Bono/Chris Martin’s Africa Logo on clothes	Team America: Vomit scene Siddharta
Conscious Detachment	Not having an I phone Disability allowance	Bartleby: I’d prefer not to The Dharma Bums
Subconcious detachment	Does not compute	Scene in ‘Stalker’ when he rolls in the reeds

Pride	The World Cup	Reading a page a day of ‘Infinite Jest’ (now on page 196).
Affection	Werther’s Originals	Gaspar Noe Noam Chomsky The Fountain
Righteous Invective	Alf from Home and Away	Slavoj Zizek

Gerald Hanson (Convextion)

2011-07-12T11:26:00.000-07:00

His First release -
Syne Language (Convextion) - Story of Sound - Hardsync 001

http://www.residentadvisor.net/podcast-episode.aspx?id=265

also - above is a link for Convextion live - from last year.

One Year i Have Loved This Song

2011-06-30T11:17:00.001-07:00

BARDO THODOL

Vessel - Fold

2011-06-30T11:00:00.000-07:00

The type of lush electronica you need in your life - there are tracks and even producers that make these types of tracks still out there waiting to be found.

It's on the playlist linked off 'Tune Of The Day'.

Blooble gets his revenge against Wolfire - the evolved version of Cubstal!

2011-06-30T10:55:00.000-07:00

Made by Evan (and Ernie).
Alice tidied up.
Executive producer - Gussy

Evan's Animation

Superb stuff from Evan and his team.
I'm a happier bear now that Cubstal has returned.

Check out the previous 4 installments by clicking on the username.

awwwwwwwwschhhhhhhhhstawwwwwwwwppppppppp!
stall the digger!

Lee Turavod's Guide To Sunday Twiching

2011-06-25T06:20:00.000-07:00

Eamonn Lowe reporting for BOR.

Who better than Lee to talk us through the latest research on sunday night twitching?

Intro: As i sat glued to my Veetle powered stream of the US Open last Sunday night - in spite of Monty's commentary, in spite of Butch Harmon's existence on this planet, in spite of the ads every 4 seconds and in spite of the fact that Brent Snedeker is actually someone's name, it struck me that i was doing something i never do. I was daring to stay up late on a sunday night. I was sitting in relative comfort (in spite of the eye paralysis from screen burn) and i wasn't writhing around in a sweat drenched bed begging to be abducted or for the apocalypse to arrive just to kill the fear welling up inside me - a fear that wreaks its terrible woe once a week and which is only getting stronger as the years go on. After the golf i went to bed. And then the very thing i had laughed about on the phone with Baz until i wept with joy 3 hours previously - that all you do on sunday nights anyway is twitch and writhe until about 16 minutes before your alarm is about to go off, when you finally expire into a deep and beautiful slumber, the very reason Lee Turavod dedicates his life to research and endless self-experimentation, happened to me, and, i believe, took me closer to the fabled 5.30 a.m. monday passing on than i've ever been before. So, chastened, i rang Lee for some counsel on the following tuesday.

E.L. - Is anyone immune from the sunday night twitches?
L.T. - There are some tribes that appear to have no concept of "the fear" in terms of a return, after a short - and usually enjoyable hiatus, to a specific socially or economically defined and dreaded (by said individual) position - i.e. place of work.However, we haven't been able to undertake enough research on these peoples - e.g. no Participant Observation has been done on them to any useful extent. Intriguingly though, endemic to every single culture or tribe that i have ever seen studied or documented to what we can call 'an acceptable level of scrutiny' is this idea of 'the paras' or "the Fear" as you call it - that desperate feeling that sets in - typically on a sunday, which renders the victim at the least mildly perturbed and at worst suicidal - or even - to use the vernacular - toes up at 5. a.m. (5.30 to be exact).
E.L. Why do the paras, the twitching, the morbid thoughts, the self immolation...why do these all intensify rapidly as soon as one's head hits the pillow?
L.T. - This syndrome - i believe- operates on three levels. Stage one - typically manifests as (1)onset of paranoid fretting through to (2) obsessive checking of the time to (3) immediate cessation of any potentially deviant behaviour (drinking pints in an early house with someone else's vomit on your lapel being a typical example) to (4) compulsion to attain sobriety and begin eating healthily leading into Stage 2 (1) the self-congratulatory stage of redress - when the subject seeks reassurance that, in fact, he/she hasn't actually been on a 32 hour bender, and has simply been "letting off a bit of work steam" and seeking solace in statements such as "everyone does it" or "i can handle it" on to (2) almost total capitulation as surrender to a massive attack of the paras - even going as far as "the yaras" in extreme cases, typically reaching a crisis point (mid-sunday evening) as the alcohol begins to wear off and the guilt/ self - reproach really begins to take hold. (3) Typically. at this stage, the subject simply cannot haul themselves over the coals any more harshly leading to a brief period of P.R. (PYHRRIC RESPITE) during which heart rate, blood pressure and adrenalin return to near normal levels. This is the stage at which most subjects believe they are over the worst and they usually carry out some normal work-night tasks before retreating to their scratcher. Stage 3 (1) instantly on lights-out autonomic reflexes - in over 4000 test cases i have studied - spike alarmingly as the subject is engulfed in a tsunami of panic about the following a.m. (2) subjects begin writhing around in their beds, desperately sticking legs out in the hope that a cooling effect will allow sleep to somehow arrive or frantically switching positions and desperately attempting - then discarding various repertoires of breathing exercise and relaxation techniques they've gleaned from the ever increasing selection of titles aimed squarely and in many cases insidiously at this issue. (3) the subject at this point has spent between .55 - 160 minutes tossing and turning and - for reasons we still don't fully understand - pissing incessantly. The next stage is crucial - and this is where subjects clearly diverge into two groups. Group (a) manage to fall asleep at this point - a fitful, exhausting, respite-light sleep, but sleep nonetheless. Group (b) typically, at this juncture, cling to the hope that lying in the recovery position and hoping for the best will eventually lead to something approaching sleep. Unfortunately my research has proven unquestionably that this inevitably leads to RPP (RECOVERY POSITION PARALYSIS). The subject lies (and has had a history of lying) in the recovery position for such prolonged periods (up to 6 hours every sunday night) and in such a tense (physical and psychological) state that this position actually acts like the coiling of a spring which will eventually unleash a myriad of different and varying physical and emotional responses ranging from violent whole body twitches (known to have killed more than one thousand innocent bed-mates from the research the Turavod Institute has carried out alone), le Cercle Rouge (d.T.s style) panic attacks with hallucinations, shitting the bed, twitching so manically the subject crashes on to the wall/floor/furniture (20 000 people seriously injured themselves falling out of bed in the UK in th last year), AGDW - (Aggravated Diving From Windows Syndrome - casualty numbers still undetermined), Psychotropic Fugue Onset ( a type of psychological meltdown explored in the movies of David Lynch wherein the subject's psyche completely shatters and the subject believes he becomes someone else to avoid dealing with the reality of his rampaging paras), onset of Chronic Sobbing Syndrome (subjects have been known to curl into the foetal position and weep uncontrollably for up to 96 hours before falling into coma), self strangulation (the quickest way out) and obviously the worst case scenario: passing on, a.k.a. becoming tatie bread.
EL - Wow - would i be right in saying this is your life's work?
LT - The Turavod Institute has a very important role in today's world. We hope that the governments of the world will soon implement our findings and recommendations into how we can tackle Sunday Night Twitching and allow people to get on with their lives free of this scourge.
EL - What are your recommendations?
LT - first: restructure the working week by rotating the order of the days we work on/are off on. This way the majority of 9-5 mon-fri workers could break their weekly twitch cycle. So let's say The EU Countries brought this in this monday. Everyone would work monday to friday as normal and have saturday sunday off - this would effectively mean that this sunday would be the last ever sunday Night Twitchathon in the history of mankind.
EL - How?
LT - because the weekend after would actually begin on the saturday - - saturday would be the friday of that week and everyone would have sunday and monday off. This would mean that everyone would sleep soundly on that sunday night as they wouldn't have work on the following monday - this would break the cycle. Then the pattern continues so that on this working week, which begins on the tuesday, then everyone would have monday and tuesday off and so on and so on - thus eradicating Sunday Night Twitching for ever.
EL - Hmmm. Well, i think i understand what you mean but, uhh.... doesn't this new system mean that you have to work a six day week before having two days off?
LT - Yess, yes, but the key is that one of those six working days is legally another non-working day...
EL - ahhh i get it, yes - i understand now. remarkable.
LT - it's the only logical way forward unless of course we keep the system we now have but go to a four day working week.
EL - go on?
LT - All our tests show that the paras, and even the yaras, disappear once the subject's working week downgrades from 5 to 4 days.
EL - For all our sakes i hope either of these things happen as soon as possible. However, until that day comes, do you have any words of advice for the billions of twitchers on this earth?
LT - I'm not going to suggest anything insane like 'don't drink on friday, saturday or sunday' or 'stop rolling around warehouses in a k-hole every single weekend' - i consider myself a realist as well as a scientist. What i suggest is that if you find yourself in that familiar sunday night position try to confront the fear face on. What i do myself is get into bed at around 11.p.m. on a sunday night and do about 45 minutes of aggressive conscious twitching, tossing and turning violently until i work up a good load of froth around my mouth - or at least until my bed and i are sopping in a good clean aerobic sweat (easier to pass out in later (hopefully) than in the chemical sweat excreted by the yaras). I have made a sport out of this whole thing. It may not be a fool proof method - i dived out of my own bedroom window last sunday night (INSTALL NETS AROUND ALL OF YOUR WINDOWS ASAP - EVEN IF YOU LIVE IN A GROUND FLOOR BUNGALOW) - but at least this approach allows you to retain some dignity - i recommend people create their own catchphrases to say on sunday afternoons to help them gee up for the battle ahead. For anyone who cannot motivate themselves to try any of this there is one very important piece of advice - don't fall into the recovery position trap. You will suffer RPP and this does kill people. I recommend you just lie there on your back weaving and worrying until (if need be) you get up 9 hours later, a shattered man, a wreck, a shell, just one more crushed cypher in this crazy game we call life because at least this way you can limp through mondays collapsing into toilet cubicles to steal 40 minutes kip as your boss looks on and thinks what bosses can only think anyway and then you can get home somehow and bury your head in a pillow and cry with agonised joy that the yaras won't be coming calling for another 6 whole sweet days and yes, there probably is someone good playing at Yabric this friday and that's all you can really hope for in this fucked up world.

EL - good stuff Lee - i commend you on your work and i now feel empowered and ready to take on the paras. I'm off to buy some nets.

Good night..
Eamonn Lowe-aiming high.

An Eamonn Lowe Investigation.
Thanks to Lee Turavod @ The Lee Turavod Institute of Twitch-Tectonics,

Homework

2011-06-16T13:06:00.000-07:00

homework

USA '94

2011-06-13T11:49:00.000-07:00

I was already compromised having given myself up to Sheeeeitalia '90 on the MegaDrive. This game was so shit it was amazing fun - it was just so badly made and had a bird's eye camera thing but there was something too entertaining about it to just give it up. especially the penalty shoot outs. So by the time 1994 came around there was no way i wasn't going to WildWood New Jersey.
There was no Trip Advisor in those days (apart from 'the man in the tree'). It was decided that we were going to WildWood and that was that. In spite of how short my stay there was it has stayed with me in many ways. The agony of the calf cramps i was slaughtered by every night i did the land scape gardening remain the barometer by which i gauge pain and i hope i never feel anything near that ever again. I saw an absolutely appallingly massive cockroach fly off a free chicken leg Mully was inspecting in a place called Quo Vadis. For this reason, William Friedkin's 'Bug' not only makes perfect sense to me, i have also spotted several more of these giants as i am always on the look out (most recent - descending a wall behind the mesmerizing cue-ball dome of a Freeganist as he expounded to me his world view whilst sharing with me his apples in the hostel i lived in in London on arrival 7 years ago) for them, kind of convinced that they will eventually find me and i will be ripped apart as some kind of cross -species revenge ritual for the queen ant i killed in Barcelona setting fire to an ant nest under my tent a week or so before Colette's wedding. As my repertoire of answers to the question "why are you a vegetarian?" widens apace, this is still the one i keep coming back to, along with "because i hate you and i will do anything to fuck you off as i sit near you eating".
So there we were in WildWood. Casio checked out the real Paulie Gualtieris in action in A C but we all stayed around playing pool against Vietnam Vets (skylight) and living off King Size snickers and giant slaps of milk when we couldn't feed eachother out of Bugger Mings we worked in for just one day each until Yulnin busrts in and wrecked the joint with the manager looking on in despair.
After the landscaping job i secured employment in a cinema. This was superb. This was the summer of The Lion King so i watched this about 80 times in 19 days and i went to Taco Bell for my lunch with the tips you somehow got for ripping tickets and clearing up Reeces Pieces after screenings. And in Taco Bell they sold the only veggie option i saw available anywhere - a bean burrito. At this point refried beans were as alien to me as not stealing people's socks when you were invited to their house party (those were real Gatsby's father moments as i reeled stunned at the idea that a student could wash their clothes more than once every 8 weeks (washed by your ma). The 'sniff test' wasn't something you performed on your own clothes. It was a nominal theoretical possibility that someone you knew would maybe one time tell you that you stank but it simply wasn't the thing to do.

This 'bean burrito' was delicious. Very simple but so tasty.
So here it is:
reduce a box of passata or a tin of tomatoes having added a very heaped tablespoon of hot chilli powder.
Fry an onion with a lot of garlic - one whole head chopped in quite large chunks -

one of these lidl garlics is good - cut the core out as if it were an onion - and 3 choped up dried chillis. Once the garlic chunks soften a little, transfer them into the reducing tomato sauce. Simmer down about one third of this sauce - seasoning.
Add a good extra dollop of olive oil to the sweated off onions and heat up /fry the refried beans - if you just heat them up on their own they are actually minging.
Serve as burrito with grated cheese (any kind - parmesan adds a great nuttiness) and any leaves and jalapenos if desired.
DENY IT ALL.

Pepped Abysmally?

2011-05-25T14:50:00.000-07:00

Abysmally Pepped

Self-diagnosis is the futures option your broker won’t tell you about. I was on MUCRON for 4 days for Post Nasal Drip – it was insane. Utterly booked but no euphoria. A broken man and it seems to have brought back the pharma gums. Scurvy alert.

Your broker. In raljaxian terms, ‘a broker’, would explicitly orchestrate your demise or descent to bottom s’appelle rock so that you could concentrate on watching the French Open on the Red Button during a sickie instead of taking your money and losing it and then lying to you. It could be an ultimate existentialist way out – you book an appointment with your broker and sit in the waiting area reading the first four pages of one of Beckett’s shorter novels. Or maybe just a sheet with the word ‘Watt’ written on it a thousand times. Then you are called in. The interview could play out along these lines.

V – Hi – come on in sit down.

F – uhhh… hello. My name is F. I’ve never really done anything like this before….

V- sure sure – why would you have – we’re the only people doing this at the moment and it only takes one shot. We have a 100 percent success rate with our clients.

F – “this”…”success” – don’t you mean failure?

V – come again?

F – well, I came here today to ask you to ruin me. So you could wreck my life and give me some peace.

V- yes , I see what you mean. But these are merely semantics – we see this a lot- many of our clients look forward to being broken right up to the point when they come in here and actually begin the process

F – then the doubt sets in

V- and the fear and the desperate urge to jump ship back to conventional value systems

F – the urge to succeed, to be the best you can be… the desire to win

V – all that bullshit. Look it’s perfectly natural – it will pass. My advice is just relax and let us take care of everything. You could walk away now but you know you’ll be back. Let’s just get it over with.

F – right. Yeah. Let’s do it.

V [flicks through F’s file]- so it says here you are in middle management. You’ve ticked the box “sold my soul for a life of misery I can no longer bear”.

F – That just about sums me up.

V – ok. Here’s what I suggest. You need an out but I don’t want to reduce you to a complete wreck. Here’s what’s gonna happen. Some night over the next few weeks you are going to stay late to do some extra work. That won’t look suspicious?

[F shakes head]

V – 3 men will break into your offices and viciously beat you because you will resist their demands. They will be after your wallet/watch and also some …what – you work in tax don’t you… some tax codes or something – something they could use to blackmail one of your clients or something –rest assured it will all be water tight. So you resist and they batter you senseless and then you are the hero but you can’t recover … post traumatic stress… blah blah blah – you sue for damages, get a massive pay off, never work again, maybe you split up with your wife – I see you wouldn’t mind that – and then you can get on with the rest of your life moping around on the sofa playing X Box or whatever it is you want to do.

F – it’s that simple?

V – it’s that simple.

F – I dunno It all sounds a bit clean. I never pictured myself as some have a go hero. I want my kids to still retain some respect for me…I’d also like to be completely broken – mentally – I think that’s what I’ve always craved.

V – [flicking through file again] – ahh, 6 and 8?… I can understand why you’d want to keep them on side. Well, let’s see… this would take you up into the higher price bracket?

F- go on.

V – remember the Litivenko thing? This is our spin on that. You take your kids for a day out in the marshes and you get bitten by a spider carrying a debilitating and as yet - unheard of on these shores - virus. Our doctors handle everything – allowing your symptoms to go untreated for long enough for you to be laid up for 1-2 years. The investigation leads to the detection of said spiders – which we have introduced to the marshes – you are the victim of unbelievably piss poor luck – can never work again – but live off the insurance claim against the wildlife trust that runs the Marsh.

F – that sounds a lot more like it. What’s the damage?

V – 200 000 for that one – but you’re looking at at least a 4 mil payout – naturally we still take 20 percent of that – and it’s still all only due to us if it all works out.

V – ok. Where do I sign?

F – [pushes an intercom ]– get me some H 23’s right away and 2 shots of Tequila.

You won’t regret this.

V – well, beats slogging my life out in that hell anyway.

John Daly

2011-05-11T10:01:00.000-07:00

This is how to take control of a remix

Grippeth agus Rippeth

Long been a liver of John Daly's music. Yes Space dimension Controller gets a lot of good press but John Daly is the top Irish producer.

Lonely Acid

2011-05-03T11:36:00.000-07:00

Tin Man - Nonneo (Donato Dozzy Mix)

Lonely meandering acid lines with lovely strange synth washes and nagging pulses.

Redshape

2011-04-22T09:15:00.001-07:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NXEwgxsDypQ

2011-04-21T12:28:00.000-07:00

always maintain control of your bag

2011-04-21T11:38:00.000-07:00

So it goes.

It has reached that point in the year when all you can do is pish sweat. Pish it like Ted Striker on final approach, like Rory McIlroy when either the word 'snap' or 'hook' are mentioned or connoted in any way, like Matthew Stevens on that final binge of who knows how many thousands of diet pills it took to slim him down to where he was - actually fitting into his suit last night but with the trademark waistcoat buckles flailing in the Crucible's wind of dignition - bottling it from 9-6 up against 'newly depressed' Mark Allen (worrying pattern in snooker or only sane reaction to that life?).

Sweating is a solitary endeavour. We aren't meant to Ted Striker profusely in public - or all over another person. Take saunas. The customary eye level in a sauna is down. You don't sit there watching the sweat roll off someone else - it just isn't done. However, when on the tube in this heat it's almost impossible to avoid sweating onto or into someone else's face/life.

I was in this position yesterday - penguined in on the Central Line after 2 hours sweating in record shops. I had a large bag of records under one arm and i had placed my rucksack at my feet. The rucksack was quite stuffed as it held books and a blanket upon which i had lay, sweating, in the park before going to get records. So i was in a bit of a compromised position but was holding it together reasonably until the about 4 more people got into my carriage and i began to lose control of the bag at my feet.

The expression 'losing control of my bag', i can now appreciate, whilst technically accurate and in no way loaded with anything but factual panic, was the wrong phrase to start allowing to dominate my thoughts. I was doing what you are meant to do: (1) breathing into the convex of my elbow - see COFFEE BUM MOUTH (2) keeping my eyes down (3) obviously NOT wearing my rucksack on my back (4) attempting to ensure that the river of my sweat wasn't pouring directly down on to anyone unlucky enough to be standing under me (5) doing breathing exercises and visualisations (yesterdays were opening drives off Omagh's first tee) - to ensure that i didn't hyperventilate, scream "WANKKAAAAAAAS!" or succumb to the urge to get out at all costs at the next stop and keep going until every sign of man was gone.

So it was quite a regular stuck inside a tube carriage in extreme heat a few hundred metres below Holborn - running out of air and pishing sweat scenario, apart from one thing. I was losing control of my bag. There it was at my feet but i just couldn't get it fully under control. The woman crushed into my left side whose presence i would ordinarily have never even acknowledged was becoming a major problem because my bag (my rucksack) was obviously banging into her shins as it veered over at a slowly worsening angle. So all i could think about was this. I couldn't move my right leg at all and my right arm was wedged upwards around my face (so i could breathe into my elbow convex) with my hand awash and uselessly clasping the hand rail. My left arm was curled under the record bag. What could i do? Again it crossed my mind - i'm losing control of my bag.

I knew from her shrugging and sighing - i was headphoneless - music really doesn't help in this situation - that she was getting pissed off. And my bag had by now almost toppled right over and was clearly causing her a lot of discomfort. So i was forced to disengage my face from inside my elbow and look at her. I was hoping for a friendly face, even an expression approaching 'what are you gonna do?' (watching a lot of Sopranos presently)- anything but then i noticed she was a goddess - all i could think about was the cover of 'Humana' by Jeff Mills. At this point my sweating assumed a proportion i had never previously conceived of.

I bottled it. I broke the prime directive. I SPOKE ON THE TUBE TO A STRANGER.

I said to her:

I'm losing control of my bag...

and she instantly replied:

You should see a doctor about that.

I'm tempted to say that it was the single greatest experience of my life and that she proceeded to give me her phone number in Acapulco. All i can say is it was the funniest thing i have ever heard. It was amazing. I will never forget that moment.

She didn't laugh but there was a hint of a smirk. I stuck my face back inside my elbow convex and cried.

Electronique it

2011-04-18T15:38:00.000-07:00

http://www.electronique.it/podcastA1986C10_Podcast_Tin-Man_E-P-119

This italian site has some ace mixes - you need to log in and then you can get them.

the D'Arcangelo mix is so good. This is how i remember AFX when he d j ed in Shine in the late 90's (up to the pont when it went totally gabber) - nuts hard but really funky. I don't usually listen to sets that are this mad but this is mixed so well and there is definitely a time and a place for this type of music. It also shows, as this set is made up mostly of stuff from the last few years, that this kind of Cornwall / Braindance sound is still being produced - just in slightly unexpected places - i.e. Mr Oizo remix of Squarepusher and 93 (berlin Mix) by The Black Dig - both amazing and both i missed.

It Is What It (Echocord) Is

2011-04-18T15:33:00.000-07:00

Stephen Hitchell - For Convextion

The Golden Bear said that to win the Masters takes patience. This is no different. Knowing what will happen after the 6 minute mark makes it all the more enjoyable - this is top notch shit.

New Mix

2011-04-14T17:51:00.000-07:00

deeplyflawedmirror

Conforce - Black Strobe

2011-04-12T13:49:00.000-07:00

This is the one - simply perfection. I've been searching now for a few years, heard Tangier by The Third Man in Phonica and got really excited - it must be amazing to hear out (still haven't) but this one IS on a different level.

To me it's a remake of Carl Craig's it's A Wonderful Life - but that's fine. it's done with such love.

It's got those Mike Banks strings - it's life affirming.

Conforce - Black Strobe

The Mighty Skudge

2011-04-12T06:12:00.000-07:00

It's not that often there's a new techno producer to get excited about. Skudge seem to be the real deal.

Skudge - Melodrama

You can tell this was made on instruments and machines, i.e. with their hands and not by clicking and using pre-sets. It is also possible to picture this played live - i hope this happens. And even though this is a youtube clip their sound is really dense and full - sounds a lot closer to vinyl than you'd expect.

The female vocal/murmuring in this one continues the theme i first read explained by Orbital. That since we were in the womb and listened to our mothers' voice (and heartbeat -why aren't we MORE addicted to 70 bpm's) , we are always susceptible to these types of sounds. There are countless examples of this in action and many of these songs do pack a big emotional wallop.

From Orbital's own Halcyon to the ultimate:

Spiritualised - Let It flow (that's Kate Radley)

Higher Intelligence Agency -Speedlearn

Guy Called Gerald - Voodoo Ray

The Orb - Blue Room

(1) Plaid - Rakimou (2) Arrovane - Lillies (3) Fortran - The End Part 2

(4) Transform - Transformation - seems to acknowledge this process with "when i speak..."

(5) Bvdub - The Art Of Dying Alone (Brock Van Way seems to specialise in this).

(6) Saint Etienne - Like A Motorway (Autechre Remix) (7) Curve- Falling Free (Aphex remix)

(8) Jeff Mills - If (We) (9) Oliver Ho - In The Dark (far more interesting than 'French Kiss' style female groaning - which i'm ignoring) - i think if this was the lift music for the day in 1 out of 3 global corporations the world as we know it would end straight after the first fag break.

(10) Robert Hood - Interior Suspect - Robert Hood doesn't have to stoop to these tactics but his music feels so familiar and (imo) is filled with such a deep yearning to return to simpler ways that i have to include him on this list.

Out of the 11 the Arrovane track stands out as it uses Japanese vocals to add more mystery. The Robert Hood is very close to my heart, the Bvdub is real floating in space shit (his forte) and the 2 remixes are what really got me fascinated with this technique. The Mills one is closer to Jazz singing but it's so otherly and original it has to be on there. The Fortran one shows how these types of vocals can balance even overtly unsettling rhythms and counter melodies. I think the Orb one is the best in terms of giving you that feeling on the dancefloor - it was also the first one i ever felt this with - at The Feile in ? maybe 93 or 4. It kind of sums up the entire Orb sound. I'm not sure why thet are kind of overlooked now - it's not right. i saw Alex Patterson dj ing only reggae 7 inches 5 yeasr ago and he destroyed everyone else on the bill - at 2.p.m. , The KLF stuff is still ahead of it's time and The Orb albums still warrant repeated listening. Maybe they were a now band for a lot of one time ravers and those people don't really talk about their raving days now do they? i'm still on a sledge me playing tennis with Brian May.

Colony 19

2011-04-12T06:08:00.000-07:00

I love these promoters - going to their Black Dog gig at end of April to get a long needed techno fix.

Colony 019 by Truss

A DIY BEP

2011-04-12T05:52:00.000-07:00

As the Viart masterwerk slips deeper into the mists i thought i'd share my current sandwich of choice.

I just used Wholemeal bread from Tesco - you could bake your own or use a seeded bap or a baguette.

Onto a buttered and lightly mayoed sightly thicker bottom slice slap on a lot of hummus. Then place 3-4 slices of veggie ham ( i got it in Holland and Barret - any will do). Spread mustard (Coleman's) over the ham and place onion rings (red onion) over - about 8/9. Then cut cherry tomatoes over the top (adds juice) into slices and place all over. Then dad 2- 3 thinly sliced gherkins (Lidl's jarred ones are perfect) and sprinkle tonnes of alfalfa sprouts over the top. Season like Joe Pesci smashing someone's head in with a car door. Place on the slightly thinner buttered and hummus'd top slice and get involved. Don't bother cutting in half as this can lead to disintegration of the hull.

Have a rockdrup on the side. If i were to crisp with this (i shall) i'd go for Mature Cheddar McCoy's.

Going Blind

2011-04-12T05:46:00.000-07:00

Now - Infinite Jest. Yes this is bandwagon jumping but i couldn't resist it. The first 1o pages (only 100 times these to go) have left me battered and reaching for the artificial tears - a broken man's ultimate accessory along with the gangeman's favourite tool (a lung) - a golf tee.

August 2010 - 2666.

November 2010 - Middlemarch.

Next UP - The Unabridged Global telephone Book in Vulcan in font size 3.

Inside The Method.

2011-03-29T12:47:00.000-07:00

2 years ago I put a personal ad in Sight and Sound. This ad detailed an amnesty service for anyone wanting to break their cover as an actor playing the role of an actor. Various sources (who must remain undisclosed) have intimated to BOR over the years that some very well known movie and television stars are in fact constructs – fictional ciphers played out in public by the ultimate method actors – those who play a part 24 hours a day – indefinitely. I wanted to find out who these people are, whether it is addiction to their game or madness that drives them and what it really feels like – to feel like a feel like.

I offered to make the transition back to some form of reality easier in the form of 20 free therapy sessions with our own Roland Barthes, Master Of The Jazz Hands, and to then publicize the achievements and trials of said actor (s).

We have received 3 replies. Reply one was a hoaxer claiming to be the actor playing the role of Andy Townsend. There are limits to even method acting – so we binned this one. Reply number 2 was written by the actor who plays the role of Billy in Eastenders. A year researching this lead resulted in our belief that no actor could act out the role of a man who allows himself to play the role of Billy from Eastenders for this long without topping himself. Reply 3 was from the man who has played the role of Brian Dennehy for the last 42 years.

Here is a transcript of Roland's interview with that man.

It took a long time for me to have any impact in the business because I didn't look like an actor, I didn't sound like an actor.

RB – this is my favourite quote by you – what’s your actual name?

Mitch Cink…

RB – that sounds like a made up name.

MC -I know. As a kid growing up I actually though that myself. I thought ‘I could easily just be made up’.

RB how can I believe anything you say?

MC - How can you believe anything anyone says?

RB - well…. But let’s move on. Getting back to that quote – was there a point at which you stopped seeing yourself as ‘the actor playing the role of Brian Dennehy’ and you just thought ‘I am Brian Dennehy’.

MC – oh yeah, that happened very very early on – that happened before I pretended I went to ‘Nam. Sorry – …before I pretended to be a man …

…pretending that he went to ‘Nam.

RB – ok. Let’ settle down here – let’s do that Russian Doll exercise from our sessions again. I don’t want you tying yourself up in knots.

[During the next 15 minutes, at intervals of 55 seconds , Roland Barhtes intones the words “YOU ARE MITCH CINK” as Mitch Cink (in a yoga-style pose unrecognizable and as yet unidentified) inhales slowly and breathes out whilst making a low hum noise.

MC – thanks – I’m good now.

RB – Cool. Tell us about some of the high points.

MC – I used to think I was the greatest actor in the world. I mean, just the thrill of pulling this off – you know? High points… well one does really spring out. It was mid 80’s. My memory’s not all that super, y’know? I was in Palm Springs getting some R and R – Jesus if anyone needed it I did. I was out on some kind of 4 day bender – I remember it being Wednesday morning and I broke the door off someone's medicine cupboard with a golf club. Next thing I know it's Saturday – early – real early and a dog is licking the vomit off my shoulder.

RB – So you came to on the street?

MC – yeah on the street – still happens a lot. But this time was special because as I wiped the vomit out of my eyes and shoved the dog away I saw a figure approaching me. It looked like a man dressed up as the Tin Man from the Wizard Of Oz – only way fatter – like an obese silver C3Po – and fuck I thought I was tripping and maybe I was tripping, but this mad figure came up to me and I just lay there stunned and from about 10 feet away I recognized him – it was Robin Williams! Robin fucking Williams skee’d out of his face in a silver suit and he was like “Brian, Brian – so good to see you – come on let’s jog!” and he was pulling all those Robin Williams faces and I just got up and jogged with him and we jogged for hours until we found a diner that looked like it sold good grits – that’s a real Robin thing – but when we got inside we didn’t eat anything at all – we just hit the bourbon. I don’t remember much else that happened but those few hours jogging with Robin – those were the happiest hours of my life. To be in the presence of an actor that far out there on the edge… Jesus he wasn’t even playing a cop on the edge. It was beautiful.

RB – that's some story…why was he wearing a silver suit?

MC – he does – well he did that every year for a few weeks every year – just went down to Palm Springs and ran around in a silver suit – he’d make one every year because he’s trash those suits so badly each time man – he’s insane. He did it to get in character for the part – and it wasn’t even optioned at that time – jesus! – for the part he was put on this planet to play – Bicentennial Man!

RB – Bicentennial Man?

MC – yeah – he made that happen man. He made that movie happen by the sheer force of his will. That’s the greatest performance any actor has ever given…

RB – What: Robin Williams in Bicentennial Man?

MC – yeah of course – that’s 132 minutes of Robin smashing his hands off the cell wall like De Niro in Raging Bull – that’s his soul up there on the screen – can’t you see? What does he have to do? Die?

RB – Umm it’s uhh… it’s a great picture. You mentioned cops on the edge.

MC – that’s heavy for me to talk about. Even now I don’t like even sitting near the edge of a mat if I’m on a sofa that’s on a mat then the sofa has to be in the middle of the mat and I’ll sit in the middle of the sofa.

RB – so why did that 'Cop on the edge’ thing become so vital for you?

MC – well the highs are pretty amazing but after a while you start to get bored. Sure, after a while I added shit to the role…

RB – like what?

MC – well, It went from pretending to be Brian Dennehy – getting married and shit as Brian Dennehy and being Brian Dennehy – the star of Rambo – and everything that brings with it - parties and what have you - but after I mastered how to be ON for 24 hours a day – because you have to be ON even when you are sleeping – then I started to get bored.

RB – so what did you do?

MC – well I made up the shit about ‘Nam – just to add a bit of excitement – I knew they’d check those stories out eventually but I couldn’t resist it. Then I decided the ultimate test would be to play Brian Dennehy as an alcoholic – I thought is there any way I could keep this act up on a bottle a day – or more? So that kept me going for, like 15 years all in all – I did do that – I never slipped – not once. But the thing that fucked me for real was the cop on the edge thing.

RB – Do you think that in some ways being a cop on the edge superseded even your Brian Dennehy identity?

MC – yeah I think that’s what happened. I got so into being a cop on the edge that I was number one a cop on the edge and second a man playing the role of Brian Dennehy. By that stage I wasn’t even sure who Mitch Cink was – he was gone.

RB – so did you actually become a cop on the edge?

MC – I was so far gone I spent every minute I wasn’t filming Cop On The Edge movies going round whatever city I was in all night long pretending to be a cop on the edge – I had badges, the suits, guns… I had warrants and all that shit in my car and I was arresting people just as we got up to the station I’d turf them out onto the street and shout some Cop On The Edge one liner right in their face – usually one that was in whatever piece of shit Cop On the Edge picture I was filming.

RB – did this all feel weird, dark…wrong?

Mc – to me, no. I knew it was messed up but it was my life. And the more I played that Cop On The Edge role – those thousands of nights prowling the streets whacked out of my face – the more those film roles kept pouring in – I was THE cop on the edge.

RB – did it bother you at all that many of these movies went straight to video?

MC – it didn’t bother me – to me, what I do …is...art. It wasn’t about recognition – it was about living the role – never slipping – for me never slipping was far more important than accolades or award ceremonies or working with this director or with some actor who was really hot at that moment or whatever – that’s all bullshit. I was out there on the edge…pushing it.

RB – so how long did this Cop On The Edge phase go on for?

MC – that was like, shit maybe 20 years? I started to get really into it around F/X – the first one – that was ‘86/87. I used to sit there on these stakeouts for 7/8 hours after shooting for 12 hours straight – it was so intense – so real. I loved it – I had to do it. So I did it . I’m not sure how but I pulled it off.

RB – And then?

MC well those 20 years took their toll and eventually I was so out on that edge that there weren’t many roles I could really do

RB – but the work kept coming?

RB – oh the work kept coming and anyway – for me – it was all work – I mean even if 6, 7 months went by and I had no gig – I was arresting so many dealers and scumbags – all I had to do was shake them down, or, you know sell some of their stash and then I was sorted and I could get a bottle or rent a motel room…and anyway – although I’m not sure I was really aware of this after about ’89 – it was all work – I was working, you might call it acting, every second of my life.

RB – even when you were sleeping.

MC – yeah that’s the crucial time – you can’t let it slip. Never.

RB so was there a breaking point?

MC – yeah – in ‘o5/6 I realized ..you know it’s been 20 years of being this Cop On The edge and I wasn’t sleeping – really at all – I was so strung out and I was having these waking nightmares I was freaking out – I was gone – I thought I was gonna die on some bust in some tenement and I was really worriesd that all my life’s work would die with me and no one would ever know what I’ve done – what I am capable of.

Rb so what happened?

MC – I landed a role that changed my life forever?

RB – Willy Loman in Death Of A Salesman?

MC – no, no that was nothing – Mitch Baldwin in the 4400.

RB – Mitch…

MC – yeah Mitch… I was in make up that first day and the make up lady called me Mitch – something people do on set to help you get into character! (guffaws) – I know if only she had known! – and she called me ‘Mitch' and it all came back – I snapped – I broke and I remembered that I was Mitch Cink. And that night. After the shoot 0h - that was some shoot – check out that episode – I didn’t go out on the street as a cop for the first night in 20 years. I sat down and I watched some t.v. And then I started writing down some notes – some notes about who I really was – who Mitch Cink is.

RB – and how did that feel?

RB – I went to bed and I cried like a baby – I cried all night but I knew that I had broken the cycle. I knew then that I was going to have to eventually blow my cover and come out and admit who I really was.

RB – and then you read the ad in Sight and Sound –

MC – yeah it’s bizarre – I was just flicking through sight and Sound and I saw it and I knew – this is my chance.

RB and the rest is history.

MC the rest is history.

RB So what’s next?

MC – I’m writing my story – I’ve got Robin Williams confirmed to play the lead and Mitch Pillegi – from Breaking The Magician’s Code – that guy is SOOOOOOOOOh deep! – yeah, Mitch has signed on to play the part of Robin Williams in the Florida Keys scene – it’s one of the key scenes in the screen play – so it’s all good – it’s gonna be big!

RB – well Mitch… this is some story. All I can say is good luck with whatever role you decide on next. The next time I watch a cop on the edge there’s only one man I will be thinking about. And that’s you Mitch. You are the method-man extraordinaire.

I'll TAke You To...

2011-03-26T11:33:00.000-07:00

Another World.

Keith Tucker aka Optic Nerve

Massive Tune.

1993 - 1996 forever!

we Can't Waste Any More Bullets. Can I Borrow Your Wooden Spoons?

2011-03-18T12:31:00.000-07:00

Brian Cox Was In D:Ream

Everyone makes mistakes? We all deserve a 2^nd chance?. This is generally how it works. But if i broke into your house and snapped your records, used the last sheet of your bog roll and then left the lid off your mayonnaise would you be alright about that? If you found out that music i was involved in making was used to eat away the final numb shards of voters' minds - voters whose astonishing propensity for self immolation was fully realised in voting in the current Tory Government ( WE MUST DERADICALISE NOW. NAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWW!!!!!) - and saw John Prescott debasing 'How Big Is Your TV?' at the victory bash on live T.V. , would you still invite me round to watch Team America with a bottle of red and a couple a bangers? Would you fuck.

Leading to how Brian Cox was in D:Ream.

Brian Cox, also known as B. E. Cox or popularly referred to as the 'rockstar physicist' (born 3 March 1968, Oldham, Lancashire, England), is a particle physicist, a Royal Society research fellow, and a professor at the University of Manchester. He was in D:Ream.

If we allow this to pass who knows what might happen? I don't even mind the show that much - a ponce shoots the load incessantly as he stares at the sky from isolated spots all around the world - there are some good bits in there, but obviously he needs to calm down and maybe try spending a week in Seskinore Forest Park looking at pheasants.

And he was in D: Ream. To say "we've all done something like that" isn't actually accurate. Very few have ever erred this far or COMMITTED SUCH ACTS AGAINST MUSIC OR ANYTHING ELSE WE HOLD DEAR. Not even the people responsible for that ultimate bastardising of the noble biscuit - Thick Tea (remember that?) are tarnished as badly as anyone even remotely involved in D:Ream. They somehow managed to singlehandedly debunk the entire ecstasy myth. They did this not by dying or being that lad out of East 17 or even by interviewing buckt ravers on MTV whilst on smack. They did this by just being themselves. By just being SO supremely shite and then allowing Labour's spin doctors to use their tune. And then one of them forgot what he did and got an agent.

So maybe this is why Brian Cox spends so much time looking into the sky. He's trying to look as far away from the earthly truth as is humanly possible. He has also stumbled upon a brilliant strategy. He wants us to look up there a lot more than we already do because then we might start to forget about D:Ream. The solution is simple. We must construct colossal solar power space orbiters that spell out the letters D:Ream and send them off into the cosmos so that when he (or we - if we aren't too busy watching snooker) looks up he is reminded of what he has done and quietly goes away and feels shame.

This will require an effort, a global effort, roughly 6000 times as great as The Manhattan Project. It could unite the planet. It could be the 2012 Consciousness Shift we've all been waiting for. It could all be like a chorus in a D:ream tune.

help.

Free Album

2011-03-11T14:51:00.001-08:00

SinQ - Passage

It's great too:

http://www.archive.org/details/mtk164

I am crossing oceans of time to find you

2011-03-09T11:26:00.000-08:00

Lost this record in the fire in Belfast -

'Shooting Stars' by Skymaster - amazing.

Berghain

2011-03-03T10:31:00.000-08:00

the preamble -

Paranoia about hiking boots - will they mean we won't get in? If you don't side part your hair will you not get in? How much should i drink/eat/ think about not getting in? Think about getting in?

the queue -

fuck me this is superb, they're teasing us with the silhouettes of people dancing (4 stories above in blue from the Panorama Bar), a lot of people are getting turned away...we'll just go to Tresor, There's 3 fucking doormen, looks like u have to chat ti them in German, we're fucked, i'm fucked, The God like point of rejection from the main bouncer - he looks evil - he's already eaten all the pills, who's around us in the queue? fuck i'm pissed, should i leave my hood up, does Cia look more techno with her glasses on? what should i do with my hands?

that fat lad's DEFO not getting in, people are thinking that about me, people are saying that about me, 10 - 15 get in, 10 -15 don't, the walk of shame, i'm not really into this - There's too much arrogance here, they turn a way every different type of raver there is! , thsi is no big deal, we'll just go to Tresor, this is only another club, i know that tune,

stop hunching your shoulders, what's their criteria for turning people away?, what do you do at the top of the queue?, maybe they're psychic: I'VE LISTENED TO LOOPY TECHNO BANGERS FOR HOURS ON END, i've put in the years at the techno coal face, don't look too desperate, should i leave my hood up?, look them in the eyes, don't smile, smile, chat to Cia - make it look nonchalant, is my face red?, fuck me there's no way i'm getting in, let's go home...

Tresor'll be superb, what if we don't get in there? me alan's fanked, if you're from Berlin and they turn you awya it's no big deal, i'm gonna say we came all the way from Ireland - i can't speak german, should i keep my hands in my pockets? what will me hair look like if i take down my hood?, stop rubbing your hands together in glee, that bird's boooked and she's tagging along with us, maybe that fat lad is getting in (he's draining a bottle of Cava), maybe he's a pro, fuck me, i'm fucking glad i'm not off me head- i'd go mad, why the fuck are we doing this?, it's a test...

This is only a test, a techno test - but that's what i care about more than anything, I LOVE TECHNO, i am techno, they'll see it on me - they'll smell it off me, fuck me (sees the dj line up poster) look at the line up ! incredible - they don't even advertise 3/4's of whose playing = Jesus Tony Lionni is 12 to 3 pm, fuck me, don't panic, i hope they are psychic, psychic doormen so only the true believers get in, that'd be amazing, the cbs fucking brain washed me - every allusiion is bibnlical, he looks like he#s taken a billion pills, the fat lad is getting in, fuck me this bird's piushing in - she's gonna ruin it, no way we're getting in now...

getting close now, this is mental, he just points and that's it - if that happens me i'll cry, GET IT TOGETHER, they have a good look at you, they check you out the whole way down the line!, keep the hood up, don't make any sudden movements, don't look defeated, appear confident, make eye contact, smile, don't laugh - stop - come on, don't say anything, take off your glasses, don't rub your hands in glee, we're not getting in, fuck me alan's fanked...

fuck fuck this is it, jesus god not that point, don't trip over yourself, christ - they're letting her in!,

Zwwwei?

Yes...

fuck me we're in we're in Berghain Berghain...

I don't think shoegaze ever went away

2011-03-03T10:27:00.000-08:00

shoulda prolonged the waves at the start

i think we went away.

life post-Berghain

2011-03-03T10:23:00.000-08:00

It is that good. I was making notes in the queue in case didn't get in but we did. Berghain is techno and up the stairs is Panorama Bar , which is house. It is just that simple. You flit in between and feel mad. Best club ever, best mixing i've ever heard, best crowd, best beer - Berliner, maddest tunes/versions of existing tunes that all the regulars know...

I'm going back as soon as i can.

Bedouin Ascent

2011-02-06T06:32:00.000-08:00

Manganese 2

YESSIRMISTER!

2011-02-03T10:52:00.001-08:00

I Miss Global Communication .

I miss the sun, talking shit on someone' s sofa, ltmc/ltmr, the mischief, the looks and the drifting detached bliss.

To Know Is To Remember

2011-02-03T10:37:00.000-08:00

The melody from this one was burnt in due to it being one of the best tunes on a tape i once had called simply : 'Collection Of Trance'. The lost tapes continue to call out and sometimes their tunes can be relocated.

CJ Bolland - Random

Roland Barthes: Jazz Hands Agony Uncle

2011-01-27T08:32:00.000-08:00

Dear Roland

I've developed a worrying tell - every time i start waffling in work i start jazz handing like a fiend. Even blind people i work with are spotting this pattern (they feel the jazzed up air currents wafting their cheeks) . I'm worried i will soon be set upon by a mob and outed as a copy and paste addicted self made sham . What should i do?

R B - I once corresponded with a woman from Six Mile Cross whose husband took an admin job in Iran in 1961. The window by his desk overlooked a square in which criminals hands were chopped off every friday morning. I'll give you her address so you can beg for a job reference - in the mean time, brush up on your Excel.

Dear Roland

As a retired raver i often slip into what some people think is avid jazz handing when i get flashbacks as i deliver presentations to my colleagues. Should i begin raving again, glue my arms to my sides or learn to jazz hand for real by attending night classes?

RB - My main concern is that you aren't fooled into signing up for jazz hands evening classes. Jazz hands isn't a skill you can learn - or teach. Jazz hands isn't a lifestyle choice. It's an affliction. Wash your mouth and eyes out with rock salt and throw your glue away. Start raving like a mad dog again and you'll come down (!) with a severe case of raver's elbow. This will take care of your jazz handing and leave you free to lie in a darkened room more regularly weaving hard about the meaning of meaning and, specifically, what kind of 'post' structuralism manged to pass, when it did pass it.

Dear Roland

I thought you died.

R B -

Quite.

Tell Me An Album as Diverse as This?

2011-01-26T13:32:00.000-08:00

<<------- THIS

this

The Onset Of Jazz Hands

2011-01-26T13:25:00.000-08:00

If you notice the onset of jazz hands it could already be too late.

I'm just warning you.

Don't blame me.

Fake Genk ( O Genki Deska?)

2011-01-20T11:13:00.000-08:00

Fake Genk is putting on a brave face of professionalism when your nickname (given by pupils) is 'Sieving Alcohol'. Fake genk- sometimes it's all we have to cling to.

Voice was the most hideous of all Nova's torture methods. You were given an hour to talk about/present / waffle on whatever you wanted. The one that still chills most is my own Monty Python Voice. How my boxers didn't dissolve is beyond all philosophical recourse. I think a letter of apology to the wonderful Japanese people could be in order.

I search for it in the a.m.

and find it in silver steel pots

i long for it when i am waffling

and the arse sweat starts soaking my shorts

and the people supposed to be listening
are wishing their heads would explode

in a town called Voice
fake genk is never enough

in a burnt out wreck of a man
fake genk is never enough

for the last few hours of the week
fake genk will give you a spring

as the last blood has drained from your face
fake genk is never enough.

on that lake of Sambuca,
on that balcony of broken promises,
at the ATM of Friday's lies,
inside the stolen tortoise shell you cracked:

fake genk
where are you?
fake genk is never enough

Fake genk
come closer
fake genk

i'm feeling so rough.

Demdike Stare

2011-01-20T11:08:00.000-08:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FInh_PTv1YU&feature=related

It's not often you get the chance to get genuinely ding dinging with excitement about a new group. This is one of those occasions. I think this would be incredible live and will do all i can to be there.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m0QCy-Nd40w&feature=related

and best of all

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O_jhV6f62g8&feature=related

Snicholas Snickleknee

2011-01-18T11:43:00.000-08:00

I am a human snickometer. As i hobble around my bedroom doing an impression of a mole in the a.m. i snick my toes, shins and knees on an almost daily basis. I used to find bruises on my body after some kind of sclender or having had the shit kicked out of me but now it's just the daily snicks that mount up and sometimes collect together in bruise form.

i have gone to great lengths to expand my threshold of pain

Tool (big) Bottom 3.56

Fortunately snicking isn't really like this Rollins Iron John testosterone vegeance soaked odyssey of self discovery/mutilation/dignition. All you have to do to be a snicker (what Trish calls a bar of Snickers) is to stagger around a bed with any type of protruding leg edges in any state between despair induced seminarcolepsy and fake genk/ amphetamine down the side of the bed faux-enthusiasm about getting up/dressed/souldestroyed by work. Obviously it is possible to snick yourself off countless other edges but the ones that get me repeatedly are always the bed leg edges.

Sometime the 'snick' is a little bit more than just the regular sharp explosion of pain. Sometimes you believe you have actually broken your shin. These megasnicks always happen on the mornings that i put my jumper on backwards, burn myself properly with a pitta out of the toaster, slice open my Adam's apple with a very old pink razor, have brushed my chops with a dead electric toothbrush, and drunk cha out of the cup i used to make garlicy salad dressing the night before - imagine the burps. So megasnicking is a psychosomatic wallowing in the anguish that pours down on your face when you just want to lie drooling on the pillow for a few more minutes, when snoozing is closer to self induced cardiac arrest than sleeping and when the simple snick just couldn't do justice to the fear that's about to have you for breakfast and then stalk you into a corner called sunday before probably finishing you off sometime in the near future in the form of a snick that lasts for a thousand centuries.

Bazza On The Wire Season 1

2011-01-18T11:39:00.000-08:00

finshed season 1 last night.

I am really gald i didnt watch it on tv. The characters are many and diverse, i feel i would have missed a lot of the nuances, had i not watched it in four doses of a couple hours each. The speakers on full Dolby Digital II really help as well - the use of background sound fx and music is so delicately constructed that its like another character in itself - much like the Sopranos.

One observation i have is perhaps the first series gave me the impression that those directing may not have had the confidence that Chase had in Sopranos S1 - there are moments of sheer brilliance, but at times he seems maybe somewhat afraid to push the boundaries - ratings after all would have been paramount for some in the production crew. Sopranos just seemed to be more striking and more accomplished in a kind of - this is what it is - fuck you if you don't like it.

I can only salivate as i am sure the confidence must grow. But don't get me wrong. Nothing has come near to the Sopranos like The Wire has. For me the star has to be OMAR, the guy is fukin superb. I read they cast him after a single audition, and, that the original script wrote him out at the end of the first, but he impressed so much they had to change it up (though this has been rebuked as a communication error) . Barksdale himself for me was completely outshone and overshadowed by Idris' character stringer - though how much of that was intentional i'm not sure. Given the story arc,( DO NOT GIVE ANY SPOILERS!!!!!!!!!!!) surely that was more than partially intentional.

Again comparing with Sopranos there are a greater number of important characters that are all pretty well developed, but that makes Sopranos season1 easier to follow - in purely simplistic terms of following and knowing who is who - though of course we never got developed antagonist characters in the Sopranos, except of course for the internal / familial antagonists thus the characters necessary for development were half that of the Wire. Overall it is def. the best show, bar Sopranos, that i have ever watched. That may change (i have an open mind) but given my love for the aforementioned, i will be very surprised. A fucking JOY though. We already lament the day we watch the last one.

That is all.

Upside Down Podium

2011-01-11T10:48:00.000-08:00

The Grinder's profiles of the snooker players.

Lidl Brand 28 p chid - bless me chather for i have sinned. When it takes 3 bags to stop being grey it's time to worry.

Ordering an Americano. It's starting to ruin my life -

2 Black Americanos with a small jug of warm milk and a tiffin please.

That's two white Americanos and a tiffin?

It certainly is (wtf is a tiffin?).

Youtube freezing all the time on certain tunes.

Worrying Black Swan is overblown toss.

Being starving 52 minutes after the largest plate of pasta that can possibly fit on a plate.

Everything in the universe now being half of a price it couldn't retail at unless 50 quid notes rolled out of ears like 3 month wax balls.

The torture of trying to stick a mix cd onto i tunes.

1000 Hand Slap

2011-01-11T10:45:00.000-08:00

Means as much to me as any other piece of electro.

Claro Intelelecto - 2000

Mica

2011-01-06T06:11:00.001-08:00

http://www.locksrusuk.co.uk/images/p001_1_03.jpg

Mica
It took us 4 years but we finally locked ourselves out of the flat last night. The feeling is fairly unique: a bit like a real life version of an anxiety dream but with tinges of suicidal urges.

So having decided against scaling the balconies below us and then smashing in the balcony door a locksmith was phoned. As I walked to the gate to let him in on his L plated scooter I realised I was doing the walk of a man who has locked himself out. It is a walk of deep shame in which one must be engulfed in the harshest self opprobrium. This is the life blood of the locksmith – he must, for these few minutes, be god, a God who does care but who could rip to shreds what’s left of the fraying ribbon of your home and future without so much as a by your leave.

Now this is a 100 percent CIVIL LIBERTCH. All I could think of was that we had no milk. As I pondered whether it was acceptable to offer a locksmith black cha (don’t let him have ginger hair (Lough Derg)under his helmet), we climbed the stairs. It didn’t seem right to take the lift.

I heard myself cliché: “terrible time of year for this to happen…”. It was the best offer I could muster. He accepted: “was called out for a burglary on Christmas Day". My brain began to wobble – I went through the evaluation of Nettle Tea – the concierge had guaranteed minutes earlier that the locksmith would have to drill through the security lock and “that’s no easy job”. What type of snack do you offer a locksmith that you have given black cha?

He rattled the door back and forth and as he bent down said: “You’re gonna love this”. As he stood up I was able to fully take in just how black the rings under his eyes were. Beyond Nigel Bond black and Droopy deep. I saw that Ciara had noticed this and that we were (all 3 of us) thinking how the burglary he’d been called out to on Christmas Day constituted a bit of the old win-win as far as he was concerned.

He took one strip of Mica – I thought it was sand paper - and slipped it round the lock and opened the door: “70 quid”. He was right I did love this because he didn’t have to drill through the lock, we didn’t have to buy a new lock off him, it was heart warming to see someone take such pleasure in their work and it was all over in less than 30 seconds, thus terminating the civil libertch and allowing us to return to the main feature of yesterday – whose fault was it?

Just before he walked off I asked him what happens when the mica doesn’t work. He told me that you can “get in through the letter box or just screw off the locks if need be”. I got the impression that this was privileged information. I watched his walk through the door periscope as he left. The walk of a man who only uses a drill in a matter of a life and death.

Technoing Out In Omagh(to dubstep).

2010-12-22T10:34:00.000-08:00

Something about being in Omagh makes me love techno even more than i do everywhere else. Walking around technoing out or driving i get urges to let other people hear techno and enjoy it like i am doing. This doesn't/wouldn't work but raises an interesting question nevertheless.
I think the main reason is taht i was first properly exposed to techno in Omagh. Also, when you are in teh Carlisle Book Shop, say, or walking around Asda in Omagh, listening to techno, you get the feeling that you are the only one listening to this music and there is a strange mix of the familiar and the alien that you don't get listening to electronic music sitting on the DLR in London, for example.
You just don't hear techno in bars or clubs here at all (no gig this year). So you get your techno in wgere you can - which means on teh headphones as you do laps or snatch some at lower volumes late at night. This prohimition makes the idea of techno more elusive and means you enjoy it a lot more. In Omagh i never wonder if all this techno might be driving me nuts ((bpm's are typically double a regular heartbeat - the more techno you listen to the more you are listening to the components separately and yet the track as a whole simulteneously - this is exhausting and doesn' (for me anyway) leave much room for chattoing etc...)).
There are three ways to techno out in Omagh. The first option is to go for the maddest, most far out music possible so that you really feel ut on a limb and fantastically detatched from this reality. This requires music like Shackleton's -
http://nutriot.com/mixtapes/shackleton-electronic-explorations
This is a hardcore head trip and you might actually be the only person doing laps to dubstep round Omagh - it's quite exciting. As people give you that small town mega stare/dirty look/ double take it's easy to start thinking it's becasue of what you are listening to - it's easy to get paranoid and this is the whole point - why not embrace this feeling and let it take over? If they could hear what you are listening to - especiallt the mentalness of the first tune on this Shackleton mix - what would they do? Leave the door of the car open outside Spar in Sperrin Close for a few too many seconds and you could easily get run out of town by the mob that always feels about 3 seconds away from forming anyway. It is very funny to contaminate a bumpkin's mind with WAY more than they evene suspected of you in this musical fashion - once they are engaged 9terrified) you must then nod along or maybe even do some kind of wink or high five type gesture to make them feel like they are loving it as well. They might be loving it though - this would make it al extra weird.
The second option is to have your techno as a kind of background to everything. A mix like Steffi's
http://mnmlssg.blogspot.com/2010/09/labyrinth-ssg-special-steffi.html
is perfect for this - it sits there in the background as you buy Ceda bread or walk past The Hill Shop thinking about buying singles and makes you feel supremeley detatched - but doesn't really dominate or split your head in two. This type of techno (deep, techy, housey and building up subtly) goes very well with Omagh.
The third option is a more clubby/dancey mix like this one:
http://www.postbocks.com/uploads/koner_in_the_laboratory
Themain problem with this kind of techno on the headphones in Omagh (or anywhere) is that you can quite easily forget yourself and, say, do a downward wrist flick for effect at a brilliantly mixed drop in or build up. This is obviously unnaceptable anywhere but in your own front room when you are alone (if then). If this happens it's best to act as you do when you trip over a paving stone. Shake your arm repeatedly and act as if it never happened or like it had absolutely nothing to do with you - how could it have?
There is a 4th option: Gerry Anderson. (meow: when in Rome)