Category Archives: hyperbole

And not the fair-weather kind

AS NAKED tribal loyalties come to the fore across Europe once again, here in the UK we need all the mates we can get. We need to make new friends, yes, but we also need to remember our existing chums.

Obviously, Trump can go fuck himself.

The trouble is, like many of my fellow Brits, I’m shit at this stuff. I’m rubbish at staying in touch. I don’t speak to people for years, and when I do, it’s usually because I want something. And new people I meet often get on my nerves.

As a result, I have a very small, tight circle of friends and it’s getting smaller and tighter each year as I somehow manage to alienate more people, or they end up going to prison or Wales, or just dying.

Good, another name to cross out of the phone book and fewer opportunities for unnecessary stop n chats and Christmas card drama.

The funny thing is, now that I am tediously and entirely predictably middle aged, perpetually grumpy and distrustful of anything new and different, I’ve never been more in tune with the prevailing national mood of UK plc.

Continue reading

Leave a comment

Filed under expletive undeleted, hyperbole

Reality Asylum revisited

ONCE upon a time, Crass had been all but erased from history.

They were at the epicentre of a genuine nationwide cultural phenomenon that changed thousands of lives profoundly and yet, a few years after they had ceased working as a band, where anyone took any notice of them at all, they were reduced to a mere footnote in the tawdry tale of corporate rock n roll.

IMG_2370That wasn’t good enough. Erase Crass and you also erase the experience of thousands of people like me, as if what we experienced had no value or validity.

It offended my sense of decency. I wasn’t having it. There are plenty of things in the world to get upset about, but righting this particular wrong was part of the reason why I started writing this blog in the first place.

And now? Everyone seems to be going on about Crass these days. Coincidence?

Continue reading

Leave a comment

Filed under expletive undeleted, hyperbole

Five x Sergio Mendes

IT’S DIFFICULT to know where to start with Sergio Mendes.

The veteran Brazilian pianist and arranger has released around 50 albums since he made his name freestyling bossa nova tunes with the cream of Copacabana’s jazz and samba players in tiny after-hours dives in the late Fifties and early Sixties.

As John Peel once said:

“A lot of people write to me and say: ‘I heard Sergio Mendes, which record should I get?’ And I never have any hesitation in telling them, you must get them all. Apart from the one he did with will.i.am.”

Continue reading

7 Comments

Filed under expletive undeleted, hyperbole

Under the influence: Girls in Synthesis

“THERE is no time for sentimental nostalgia .. we might not make tomorrow,” say Girls in Synthesis on their last single, and you can’t help thinking that they might have a point.

This is a band who sincerely believe in just battering the shit out of their instruments and, by extension, any audience lucky enough to be in their vicinity at the time. In many ways, this is the only rational response to a world that currently seems to be on as long, extended, slow-mo nosedive into a cesspit of lies, hatred and bullshit of its own making.

Continue reading

Leave a comment

Filed under expletive undeleted, hyperbole

Gad Whip Euro promo mix

IT’S a couple of days before I embark on a week of gigs as the actual tour DJ for my very good friends Gad Whip, promoting their Post-Internet Blues long playing-record around Germany and Switzerland, and I’m so excited I could spit.

Continue reading

Leave a comment

Filed under expletive undeleted, hyperbole

Five x Ministry of Shite dancefloor classics

A LOAD of us went down to the Ministry at some point in the mid 90s and, despite hearing some great music, we were not particularly impressed by the distinct lack of atmosphere compared to clubs such as Kaos, Basics and Hard Times in Leeds. There just wasn’t the same kind of energy and enthusiasm.

A few weeks later, me and Earnshaw DJed at a party at a mate’s house and someone did some jokey flyers saying we were residents at the Ministry of Shite. We ended up keeping the name when we started putting on parties ourselves.

It was all a bit rough and ready, but we had a run of great parties over three or four years at an old mansion house at the Weetwood end of Headingley in Leeds, with perhaps two or three hundred people coming through the door during the night, generally ending around 6am with no bother from the cops.

We played a lot of new US garage and vocal house but we also threw in old acid, techno, hardcore and hip house at key moments to ensure everything remained suitably blurry and twisted out of shape.

Continue reading

Leave a comment

Filed under expletive undeleted, hyperbole

Damo Suzuki meets Imperial Wax at the White Hotel

LOCATED in one of those patches of bleak post-industrial wasteland that Manchester used to do so well before all the foreign money arrived, the White Hotel is sort of white but it’s certainly not a hotel. The bar, with staff serving drinks from a sunken inspection pit, seems to indicate a former life as a garage. A dodgy garage, knocking out fake MOTs, no doubt.

It’s just over the other side of Bury New Road from HMP Manchester, in the area of Manchester that once gave the prison its name. They like their evocative place names in Manchester, and this is about as Manchester as it gets. Even if we are in Salford.

Strangeways indeed.

Continue reading

1 Comment

Filed under expletive undeleted, hyperbole