Panik Boom
I've maybe been a bit derelict of late, but what the hell? I've been trying to turn a dollar. Okay, maybe spend a dollar. And guess what? I've succeeded. Several times over. Many more, in fact, then times I've managed to bring one in. Which you'd think would leave me plenty of time to tinker 'round here, but it's just that... I couldn't think of what to say. You make me shy, and I somehow wound up with about 2,200 pages of library books to skim (and then tell you I read), so consider this a lucky break from my strained-pupil norm.
What with these dollops of sunshine and the induced euphoria (always with that doubled edge, natch), listening habits have ranged far and wide, or as far and wide as I care to wander. Maybe I need new chukkas; you can be the judge of that.
First off, I seem to be smelling quite a whiff of excitement over Dizzee Rascal's forthcoming release. Yeh, what I've heard is good, but I'm sensing an awful lof of chatter collapsing all the many facets of his chosen genre into him and him alone. Roll Deep recently put out Rules and Regulations, and it makes me wanna bound about on an overcast day as much as ol' Dizzee's output. Solid. If yez prefer to stick to Dizzeeing yourselves, I also found "Showerman", the first 12 released on Rascal's Dirtee Stank label by one Footsie, to be most cleansing to my spirit. New meaning to "spit-shine". On the instrumental-grime-type tip, most certainly I recommend the enjoyment of Dump Valve All Stars Vol 1, on the lovingly named Dump Valve label. Now I don't have to pretend I have any chance of understanding them crazed patois flows. Kidding! I know every word, every turn of phrase. I just forgot it all just now, is all...
And of course Skull Disco 06 is the fucking shit. I don't even need to tell you. Or make a Keef Richards joke. Christ, don't make me make a Keef Richards joke. Dudes are prescient, 'nuff said.
'K, you needn't fret, I know how completely ridiculous it may look for some sleepy-midwestern chump to be writing like he can possibly tell you, fair reader, something about the UK urban music scene. So let's move on for now...
My enjoyment of the "free-er" musics (which for the sake of this post apparently means "rhythmless" or "of a rhythmic nature that could be construed in some kinda 'communal ecstatic basement smokeout'"... either way, I'm wrong) does normally tend towards the less harsh of arenas. What can I say, I'm a candy-ass school-boy who needs something soothing after a day at m' desk. That said, this Vinyl-on-Demand stuff responsible for so much pocketbook damage is just mind-fucking-bending. I'm definitely not confident enough to say that I've listened to the Maurizio Bianchi Evidences Vol 1 - Final Industrial Music box or the Broken Flag Retrospective box enough to get a grip on what's going on here. But both have peeled back every damn layer of my skullflap like some crime scene photo and readjusted the appropriate neural networks into something that, given time, may develop the required radial basis functions for comprehension of the cloaked truths these folks are willing to share. Hidden layers indeed.
When given a break from these required training sets, I do gotta say that Tamio Shiraishi & Sean Meehan's In the City lp on the Old Gold label is doing quite the spectral number. Whafting freetone reports from assorted NYC lost locations... side "Bridge" and side "Garage", to be exact... leave my lobes tickled and my peachfuzz loosened. Not exactly the starburst drones of Andrew Chalk or the seasick pianos of Basinski... this stuff more kind of contemplates bent twists and hints that it could maybe squall if it wanted, but would much rather play butterfly net with the hum of cars on the overpass that is rather prominent in the side "Bridge" recording.
Yeah, there's more too, but this is already a super-epic post by my standards, and I'll try and leave some so I might think of more to write at some near time. I've got a bunch of playlist 'n archive stews to chuck up as well, but I'm a bit lazy to work out transcribing 4 hours worth of tunes for now, so check back or something. Oh, and try and enjoy whatever weather your getting; that's important.
What with these dollops of sunshine and the induced euphoria (always with that doubled edge, natch), listening habits have ranged far and wide, or as far and wide as I care to wander. Maybe I need new chukkas; you can be the judge of that.
First off, I seem to be smelling quite a whiff of excitement over Dizzee Rascal's forthcoming release. Yeh, what I've heard is good, but I'm sensing an awful lof of chatter collapsing all the many facets of his chosen genre into him and him alone. Roll Deep recently put out Rules and Regulations, and it makes me wanna bound about on an overcast day as much as ol' Dizzee's output. Solid. If yez prefer to stick to Dizzeeing yourselves, I also found "Showerman", the first 12 released on Rascal's Dirtee Stank label by one Footsie, to be most cleansing to my spirit. New meaning to "spit-shine". On the instrumental-grime-type tip, most certainly I recommend the enjoyment of Dump Valve All Stars Vol 1, on the lovingly named Dump Valve label. Now I don't have to pretend I have any chance of understanding them crazed patois flows. Kidding! I know every word, every turn of phrase. I just forgot it all just now, is all...
And of course Skull Disco 06 is the fucking shit. I don't even need to tell you. Or make a Keef Richards joke. Christ, don't make me make a Keef Richards joke. Dudes are prescient, 'nuff said.
'K, you needn't fret, I know how completely ridiculous it may look for some sleepy-midwestern chump to be writing like he can possibly tell you, fair reader, something about the UK urban music scene. So let's move on for now...
My enjoyment of the "free-er" musics (which for the sake of this post apparently means "rhythmless" or "of a rhythmic nature that could be construed in some kinda 'communal ecstatic basement smokeout'"... either way, I'm wrong) does normally tend towards the less harsh of arenas. What can I say, I'm a candy-ass school-boy who needs something soothing after a day at m' desk. That said, this Vinyl-on-Demand stuff responsible for so much pocketbook damage is just mind-fucking-bending. I'm definitely not confident enough to say that I've listened to the Maurizio Bianchi Evidences Vol 1 - Final Industrial Music box or the Broken Flag Retrospective box enough to get a grip on what's going on here. But both have peeled back every damn layer of my skullflap like some crime scene photo and readjusted the appropriate neural networks into something that, given time, may develop the required radial basis functions for comprehension of the cloaked truths these folks are willing to share. Hidden layers indeed.
When given a break from these required training sets, I do gotta say that Tamio Shiraishi & Sean Meehan's In the City lp on the Old Gold label is doing quite the spectral number. Whafting freetone reports from assorted NYC lost locations... side "Bridge" and side "Garage", to be exact... leave my lobes tickled and my peachfuzz loosened. Not exactly the starburst drones of Andrew Chalk or the seasick pianos of Basinski... this stuff more kind of contemplates bent twists and hints that it could maybe squall if it wanted, but would much rather play butterfly net with the hum of cars on the overpass that is rather prominent in the side "Bridge" recording.
Yeah, there's more too, but this is already a super-epic post by my standards, and I'll try and leave some so I might think of more to write at some near time. I've got a bunch of playlist 'n archive stews to chuck up as well, but I'm a bit lazy to work out transcribing 4 hours worth of tunes for now, so check back or something. Oh, and try and enjoy whatever weather your getting; that's important.
posted by Quincy Hoist at 5:49 PM
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