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words by jace.

this is an archive page. click above for the now thing.

vinyl rescue service


The other day the New York Times called the sample in this Timbaland track “warped, unplaceable." Although I can't ID it, I'm willing to bet that the sped-up (not warped per se) female voice is Mexican. She sings lines like 'Oh how she laughs, on the floor' in Spanish. Ay, como se rie ella, por el suelo...

        But yeah, Timbo knocks magic bones together, pitches down the sound, & wham-- an uncanny wonder built around a mesmerizing vocal snippet.

    Rich Boy - Get to Poppin' (instrumental, prod. by Timbaland)

His sampling decisions at once tangential and topical: Mexican anti-black racism heating up again and/or Timbo consciously not repping reggaeton, opting instead for some quiet narcocorrida stanza or something. (To sidestep NYTimes registration rigamarole, try

        Rich Boy's mixtape heater Get to Poppin aka Get Down first used this beat, rappers steamrolling over the voice. I wanted to drop it on L.I.T. but couldn't cop the instru in time. Santa Claus came to the rescue a few weeks ago, and I've been playing this jam on repeat ever since. Ay!

  twelve comments |

Chiasm hosts mandatory eskibeat: Roll Deep vs. Ruff Squad - Sidewinder. Big tune, endless MCs. Wiley folding all his trademark sounds into new riddim origami, using the reference structure of his other beats to bend this hybrid even further, deep dirty stuff. Vinyl has the instrumental...


A grip o London pirate tapes from Simon Silverdollar has reversed my grime agnosticism-- I'm a believer again. Gotta run, will post excerpts here early next week. Still working my way thru the goods, but Bossman is KILLING IT. Fast cuts n collages, lively beyond belief, he builds this impressive mad energy just mashing up grime instrumentals. Respect.

  No comments |

Orientalist baile funk!!  From DJ Marlboro's 1999 mixtape New Funk BR. (That's “Marl-bó-ro, accent on the middle syllable, to all the sensitive pronunciation people who only read about Brazilian music on the internet)

        S.O.S. DJ - Odaliska

On a vaguely related note, I dropped a lot of rai during  a warm-up DJ set in Sweden, and the ladies went crazy for it. 80% dancing females; most Arab musicians & everybody else i know aren't so into rai, but man  oh man, I understand its power now... You just can't front on 'commercial' music that is compositionally complex (long flipped Oum Koulsoum melodies, time signature shifts, intricate fingerings, etc) and activates the dancefloor like that, even though they hadn't heard the tunes b4 and couldnt understand the lyrics.

  No comments |

I just remixed this Portland band Nice Nice, a guitar & drums duo who conjure an original sound with loopers and white magic studio voodoo. “fuzzy guitar frenzy, drones, bowed cymbals, and jeep beats”. You can download the full original song from the Audraglint website. CD hits stores late June.

  two comments |

 Baltimore at Goverment Names. Specifically, Rod Lee's “Dance My Pain Away.” Nice writeup too. I first heard about Baltimore back in mid-90s Boston, somebody  explained it to us Toneburst people as slow jungle-style breaks chopped on the four like house, with nasty samples. Some incredible mixtapes circulated, then it fell out of sight, from me at least, until the early 2000s. Biscuithead Records stocked a coupla b'more tunes, but they were usually less hot then what I'd first heard. Anyhow.

  No comments |

Chavela Vargas is fire. “In the late 1950s and early 1960s in Mexico, singer Chavela Vargas dressed in men’s clothes, drank and smoked cigars like any man, carried a gun with her, and was notorious for her love of women. Some even say that she once kidnapped a woman at gunpoint.”

        Chavela Vargas - La Llorona

2 minutes. Starts like a lullaby, ends as an ice splinter in the heart. Related to the Llorona ghost story. This song from the Frida movie, wherein a splendidly alive 80something Vargas belts out a live version onscreen. Lyrical heavy.
    Sharp-eared listeners may have already linked the food chain: once I sampled a Manu Chao guitar lick, a few tunes later in his perfect albumClandestino, Manu samples 'La Llorona' sung by a different vocalist. te quiero más que a mi vida, que más quieres llorona, ¿quieres más? Insatiable.

  seven comments |


Thursday 30 June 2005 at 07:54 am

A combination of Kevlar, smart fabrics, prototype weaponry, and a kindly black man relegated to the basement will help him achieve the ultimate white dream: just corporate governance. Over an entire city with an unaccountable (in the Rumsfeld-Abu Ghraib sense) fly-by-night Jungian vigilante sheen. Order 10,000 armor bat-heads from China and I will make this place safe again. American Psycho.

Poetry”, slurs Mike Jones, “and the ability to enjoy it, is the true measure of man.” “Mmmm, yes darling,” concurs Harold Bloom, massaging Mike's biceps with his ample fingers. “That's it exactly.”1

This explains the poignancy at Bladerunner's end, when the robot gets all poetic before dying. Talking of tears through dingy neon 80s futurism, he makes us want to cry too. But there's no reason to cry. Androids can't die. He crept backwards in time, settling in a compatible near-future city, as underlit and rainy and derelict as home, and found good work as a C.E.O. acutely aware of the profit margins to be had in the defense sector.

As in most movies involving wide-scale conspiracies regarding psychosis-inducing drugs, the ghost of Philip K. Dick grinds his benzedrine-blackened teeth in the script's corner. You can't hear what he's saying, but he's probably right.

Notorious prettyboy American Psycho meets his superior in metrosexual Dr. Crane. Blues eyes, baby face, brunette. 'Leggy' under the professional trousers. Subtext: men who invest too much time in personal grooming are psychotic, often homicidally so. Clause: unless they roll with lesbian Europeans. If American Psycho had found lesbian Europeans in time, none of this might have happened, his fancy stainless-steel kitchen countertop and matching appliances wouldn't remind us of a morgue. Counterclause: psychos are attracted to Katie Holmes. Counter-counter-clause: only in real life, not on celluloid. Plus it was a Freudian thing, and incest thing; they were young, she was a sister figure, the price of cocaine in early 20th century Vienna enjoyed surprisingly few market distortions and medical regulations.

Returning to the movie, when people fight the bodies blur. Rade Serbedzija, the homeless guy who receives the tweedy jacket (and whose name gets misspelled in the credits) was in a great movie called Before the Rain, which has the best violence/confusion scene I can remember: all about gazes and jumpcuts, a guy walks into a restaurant and something violent happens. But it's all about the edit, the swift unsteady confusion of violence, the sudden irreversible unexpectedness. The editing wow-factor of Before the Rain's restaurant scene is up there with moments like the sex scene in Don't Look Now, or the sex-and-accidental-channel-surf scene of Midnight Cowboy. When Bat-people fight the bodies blur and that's it. No existential editing snipped and tucked at the cutting desk. Returning to the movie--

The moral of the story is that money is useful and you need a LOT of it to do anything. And, preferably, a British servant. British servants-- singly or in groups-- can be almost as useful as money, provided they've served you long enough to be cringingly loyal.

1 Harold Bloom has spent so many years typing that he no longer has any fingerprints.


Wednesday 29 June 2005 at 05:40 am

I've been meaning to write about the experience of listening to shortwave radio broadcasts for a few weeks now. It's like watching sunsets or the last untroubled gesture of a lover before breakup, any of those brief perfect fading moments of beauty, escaping. You hear a gorgeous song and can't ask anybody what it is, fragile signal, can't understand the language, can't locate it later to listen again and often don't even know which country it is being broadcast from, static snarls and roiling interference. Shortwave listening foregrounds the fact of geographic distance (not to mention cultural distance) as well as the tangible but tenuous possibilities for its overcoming. Sounds pass through you; every single detail you will feel or capture from this untouchable unownable music happens in the now, escaping...

    Unless some blogger tapes the stuff and posts mp3s on the web.

ShortWaveMusic: A new (cocky no-external-link) blog offering mpfree shortwave radio excerpts. Of course, the optimal shortwave  experience can be had almost anywhere-- via shortwave you can receive music from just about any country, and the radios themselves don't cost much. If low on cash, you can always mug or pickpocket suits in the nearest ClearChannel-owned radio-station or concert venue.


Tuesday 28 June 2005 at 11:05 am

pirate style: the last 11 minutes of a recent Bossman DJ set at London's Rinse FM. He stitches together shimmering blocks of grimy melodic sound, busy on the crossfader, with a preference for effervescent melody and the alien low-end weirdness that makes London pirate music such wild fun. I already said: “Fast cuts n collages, lively beyond belief, he builds this impressive mad energy just mashing up grime instrumentals. Respect”.

        Bossman - end of recent Rinse FM session

When beats are made for MCs, things happen on the regular, in relatively short loops of sound--every 8 bars for example. It's not about some slowly evolving tune, it's a beat-clock for the MC to lock on to. The first part of this Bossman Rinse tape (courtesy Simon Platinumpoundpolygon) bumps out MC tracks, then there's this instrumental end. Anyhow, the point is that solid beats for MCs are also solid beats for DJs to cut up and do realtime edits & blends on, and Bossman's mix takes advantage of that fact. A complete, full-bodied song leaves a DJ little or no room to reinvent it. For magic to happen, you gotta have some space, spontaneity, and a certain amount of unscheduled rawness.

Gibson wrote a relevant paragraph in All Tomorrow's Parties: The handles of a craftsman's tools bespeak an absolute simplicity, the plainest forms affording the greatest range of possibilities for the user's hand. That which is overdesigned, too highly specific, anticipates outcome; the anticipation of outcome guarantees, if not failure, the absence of grace.

Technics 1200s were just a radio station-favored turntable with strong torque until the Bronx exploded mid-70s.

I think I´m trying to say that exciting music = velocities & possibilities more than anything else, but it's too hot to think.

At around 6:30 Wiley's Firefly bass mix comes in--I read somewhere that he used to call these things devils mixes until he made a lot of money selling them and bought a car, and crashed that car, and then Wiley changed the name to 'bass mixes'. Makes a lot of sense, tangible voodoo menace in his gutted no-beat mixdowns. I've been playing Firefly bass mix out nonstop, it charges the air and makes new movement possible.

plus a blog wakeup: Fine Turkish Tobacco, aka Jess is smokin' again! a zinging & on-point way of writing about music.


Friday 24 June 2005 at 06:50 am

If you live in Barcelona you may already be in shellshock. Today is the Festival of Sant Joan (Saint John/San Juan). Presumably religious in origin, the Catalunyan version of Sant Joan is now basically a reason to explode fireworks. The louder and later into the night the better. Last night my neighborhood was rocked with elaborate home-launched projectiles until about 8AM, and which point the heavily armed youth went home for breakfast or more fireworks and returned at about 11. Needless to say, this a holiday where people lose fingers.

In Madrid, people celebrate the night mostly by lighting candles and making wishes. Ear-shattering explosions don't really enter into it. People say that in smaller, more traditional towns outside of Barcelona, folks make barnfires from old furniture, then jump over those fires all night long. Apparently things get wilder in Valencia, huge burning figures, but that's another story.

The most impressive manifestation of Sant Joan happens at Barcelona's beach. Everybody goes there at night. You'll see entire families who have emptied the contents of their kitchen and rebuilt it on the seashore, preparing elaborate 4-course meals with gas heaters and open fires. Little 7-year olds with lighters run wild, gripping sparklers, launching whistlers, tossing M-80 firecrackers moments before they explode. Pyromaniacs have a field day. Groups of young adults sit around drinking coca-cola mixed with wine, rolling cigarettes of corporate tobacco and greymarket Moroccan hash. They talk quietly despite the constant banging. Your ears will ring. Every few seconds there is a noisy flash of light, but this does not bother the guy with a guitar singing Manu Chao songs as some kind of protection against harm.

Searing rockets color the sky with sparks. Drunks start plastic fires, get bored, walk away. The subway runs free all night. New people, increasingly wasted, refuel the beach party. Healthy girls play volleyball in the dark, until the beach is too crowded. Law-abiding illegal immigrants blast merengue and salsa. They accelerate their language and its idiomatic velocities, bringing back Latino slang that Castillian Spaniards subconsciously subdue. Gunpowder, sea, smoke, cooked meat, sweat, and sex: this is what the air smells like. Sant Joan at the Barcelona seashore is a startling testimony to Spain's high tolerance for danger. The cops are elsewhere.

Mentally ill bums who ordinarily cower on the concrete pathway underneath the boardwalk nursing sunburnt feet and 49-cent liter-boxes of Don Simon red wine now stroll proudly along the shore: they are in their element. As close to home as it gets. This gathering of people is far crazier and more self-contradictory than any one person could ever be.


Thursday 23 June 2005 at 10:33 am


Wednesday 22 June 2005 at 07:37 am

Creaky mystical neo-folk from 1970s Morocco. In honor of Jil Jilala's Mahmoud Saadi.

        Lemchabeb - Daouini

This jam from Lemchaheb starts off with a bluesy rock riff reminiscent of Mali's Ali Farka Toure. Or, more recently, Tinariwen.

        Jil Jilala - ch bikdaret lekdar

An unhurried rumble from Jil Jilala. They manage to sound solemnly spiritual and ramshackle at the same time. (compare  with widely exported crazy complex Egyptian arrangements) The opening bassline maintains a timeless gnawa stride. It's not just about slipping into a groove, it's edging towards a whole other way of dividing up the days and activities caged inside them, extending a moment, spreading concentric rings of community via hypnotic sounds, call & response vocals; anything worth growing grows slow.
    12 minutes of rooted vision from an important Mahgrebi band.

I saw them 2 years back at a massive free Ramadan party outside of Barcelona. 5000 Arabs, Jil Jilala, and rai group Jadwane. Serious!

        Jil Jilala & Nass El Ghiwane - Salamou Alaikoum

64kbps rip but a nice short collabo btwn the two groups.

...last but not least, a heady percussive Jil Jilala tune. Kinda weird, yep. Entrancing too. I'm out of space, so I had to Yousend this one. Sorry!!

        Jil Jilala - Malgalbi dada mey


Monday 20 June 2005 at 12:19 pm
  • Barcelona has entered The Time of Slow Walking. Too sunbaked & swampy to move quick.

  • Long conversations with Abdel about things you can only learn by watching old people play old music. Soon afterwards we learned that Mahmoud Saadi, co-founder of Jil Jilala & brief member of Nass el Ghiwane, passed away on June 13th in Casablanca. I´ll try to post some Jil Jilala music soon.


Monday 20 June 2005 at 07:20 am What can I say?-- The symphony orchestra thing was a blast. I nailed it and had fun. No-headphones battle DJing with 75 classical musicians at my back! Afterwards people kept telling me A. it was too short and B. they were psyched to see me actually interacting with the orchestra, rather than just laying voices or sounds on top.

It was a total press coup in fact, my image was splashed across the front page of the free Metro newspaper, and then again in the main 'cultural' page of El Mundo, one of Spain's major national newspapers; in his SONAR summary article for the paper, big critic Javier Blanquez wrote: “... Only DJ /rupture reached a high level of creativity by DJing noises, field recordings, and abstract material over pieces by Webern, to the point of being unable to distinguish between what was recorded and what was played live... the hero of the night” Bang!

I didn't get to see much else at SONAR except friends-- but I did receive a stack of fresh Brazilian CDs & CD-rs from Marcos B, DJ Marlboro's main man, running the gamut from baile funk to DJ mixes of deep 70s material. look left for first rip...


Tuesday 14 June 2005 at 05:01 am
** i think my server capacity is being strained due to heavy traffic. this is both good & bad. apologies if Mudd Up! loads sloooow or not at all.**

This Thursday & Friday night I'm performing with the Barcelona Symphony Orchestra as part of the SONAR fest. We've chosen 3 pieces by Anton Webern (nice heavy Viennese composer killed by a mistaken American as he fled Nazis in Europe). I'm doing turntablism ontop, and then playing electronics for the final piece. Richie Hawtin (Plastikman) and Dose-One of Subtle/cLOUDDEAD will also collabo with the Orcs. After that, they play a suite by Japanese composer Toru Takemitsu. Then they ransack the nearest available castle for the glory of Lord Sauron.

On Saturday Nettle will perform LIVE at the Clandestino festival in Gothenburg, Sweden. New songs, new intensities. More time signatures. More gear. We're getting flexible and savage and downright pretty at times. This time around Nettle will be a duo--Abdel Hak on violin & oud, me on plugs & switches. Sunday I participate in a panel talk on "Sounds of Dissent."

Usually Filastine plays percussion in Nettle, but he's got his own gigs at the moment. FYI, Filastine's beat “Judas Goat” (on my label, Soot), kicks off Low Income Tomorrowland.

If you're in NYC, check Filastine this Friday at Subtonic (the Bunker party), midniteish set.

    for the rest of Filastine tour dates in US & Europe with the Infernal Noise Brigade--




Monday 13 June 2005 at 12:17 pm

 look lemon-red for a brand new DJ mix of mine, Low Income Tomorrowland.

    (Unlike McDonalds, shoes and shirt are NOT required)

30 minutes to make your summer go bump, a soundtrack for the heat.

My session kicks off Lemon-Red's monthly mix series, which (like its parent blog) should be a quality source for beat-filled newness.

As for me, I keep giving everything away. Anybody wanna pay my rent? Low Income Tomorrowland will be up for grabs until July 4. Some point soonafter, an RIAA-related shadow label will release it on CD with some other stuff, using all profits to buy handcuffs & Aunt Jemima pancake syrup.


Sunday 12 June 2005 at 9:17 pm

I've always thought of screw music as a fine example of American Negro Lazy Genius: take a song, slow it down, then sell it. In the hands of DJ Screw this became contagiously brilliant, this strange syrupy thing that probably wouldn't have been possible in a country where whites didn't steal Africans and force them to work for several generations. Grime is work-ethic music, strivers' shouts. Screw is watermelon-patch process, droopy and militant at zero reparations. Why should we sweat if we didn't ask to be here?

Most cultures, even DJ cultures, place a high value on originality. Bugs, flowers, and animosities just reproduce.

Sweden's main cultural export is IKEA, which means a million people furnishing their rooms in the exact same way by personally putting in millions of little screws and widgets and erecting tables chairs desks beds and so on.

Radioclit is a guy from the Swedish rap act Stacs of Stamina and some other guy I don't know. We met in France, they videotaped Ove-Naxx exposing himself and gave me a mixtape I lost. They also just 'screwed n chopped' the new Roll Deep album, downloads here. (EDIT: 'Screwing' slows it down, 'chopping' adds cuts, edits, and backspins, etc)

So a bunch of people will end up hearing the Roll Deep album in its freely-distributed, slowed-down, Radioclit-branded form before they wrap their ears around the intact original properly-pitched thing. I love the way that  interrupts the usual 'do you like it?' question asked of an album, screw music is never about regular value judgments; when you get yr lean on, its just a question of how far you can tip without losing it  (R.I.P. DJ Screw). Take “Remember the Days”-- the screwed version bends the original's FM lite-meets-rave piano melodies into something eerily minor, tones slipping off the piano's deep end, sunk in the spaces between keys. The screw slows Remember's sober inspirational down into a darkly psychedelic dirge. Viscous time. It's possible to critique an MC who's speaking directly to your lizard brain, but then you have to ignore all the unnameable information your lizard brain slithers back to you.

Reverse IKEA, you pick something large, something culturally large, and loosen all the screws or put a wrench in the works and send back  -- unbuyable or hacked or narcotized or maybe just re-branded repackaged for resale -- into the world. Music just one window to toss a rock through.


Saturday 11 June 2005 at 06:56 am

Real ridiculous news: the Mondo Kims record shop on St.Marks Place in East Village NYC was raided by cops for carrying CD-r bootleg mixtapes-- which are pretty much a major label-condoned affair at this point. The cops pigs arrested 5 employees, charging them with counterfeiting. Various quotes at Catchdubs sum up the absurdity of it all.

Kims is one of NYC's very best one-stop record shops (which makes it, by extension, one of the world's best). The press reports that manager Craig (who DJs as I-Sound, and makes music as one half of Wasteland) is charged-- I was one of the many local musicians & DJs whose music and homemade mixtapes Craig supports by stocking at Kims. Brother goes out of his way to do some amazing curation & big up underdogs, so this stings as a particularly irrational and vicious slap in the face.

Kims mixtapes-- primarily hiphop compilations with unique DJ blends, one-offs MC freestyles, alternate versions, industry leak tracks, guest hosts, and more-- are a world apart from, say, Canal Street's straight-up bootlegged Vuitton bags and commerical albums & DVDs. The raid was due to a 'tip off' by the RIAA (Recording Industry Association of America). Looks like the RIAA's targeting a high-profile, low-threat 'adversary' to serve as an example to other stores. Like Ayres mentions in the Catchdubs blurb, 50 Cent's career was built on the strength of his NYC mixtape appearances. Not only do mixtapes not interfere with major label album sales, they function as this sleek hype machine, a savvy A&R and distribution circuit in a symbiotic relationship with the monied suits that the RIAA mistakenly thinks it's defending by cohorting with the police to stomp down on Kims. Grrr.


Thursday 09 June 2005 at 8:06 pm

...probably gonna bog about (my) GRIME AGNOSTICISM soon, but need to rewind the Roll Deep album a few more times. Until then, here's a burner off it, the most overtly ethnik manifestation their 'when i'm ere' audio DNA to date

        Roll Deep - Heat Up

The first 28 seconds sound like a sublime vision of local folk in one of those semi-treacherous eastern european regions where the cop cars say POLICIJA. Taliban Trim's verses help restore any flagging faith. 


    Both string players I work with perform here in Barça this weekend. Abdel Hak, my partner in Nettle, will be at Harlem Jazz Club on Saturday, playing violin with Abdeljalil Khodssi's group. Khodssi's lineup shares a couple members with the maghrebi-jazz group Nass Marrakesh. (Nass means 'brotherhood') Nass Marrakesh's sound is, on CD, very smooth and jazzy. 

        Nass Marrakesh - L Ham

The violin is Abdel. Khodssi's group does like 3 Nass el Ghiwane covers. Periodically I feel bad about my online NeG fever, but then I think of the others... U Mean's Dipset Fixation, Chiasm's long  Fall... and feel less alone. 

& Jenny Jones will bring her formidable cello skills to bear at Miscelanea (c/Guardia, 10) on Sunday, playing with the Version Original string quarter. ¡¡FREE!!  9pm. Nos vemos.

____ FLAG

Wednesday 08 June 2005 at 09:51 am

  • Inequality facts expressed via national flags. i.e. Brazil: green = people living with less than $10 a month, gold = people living with less than $100 a month, blue = people living with less than $1000 a month, white = people living with less than $100,000 a month.

My man Nat Slang offers a poster of remixed flags, blending the flags of various disputing regions (Spain & Basque, Turkey & Greece, etc)


Tuesday 07 June 2005 at 06:54 am

Nass El Ghiwane has a brand-new super not-informative website in French!! Very exciting, dead links and all! It gifts us with many MP3s.

Try Fine Ghadi Biya Khouya (Where Are You Taking Me, Brother?) or Mahmouma for starters...  Info on our free Brussels gig here.


Monday 06 June 2005 at 10:34 am Venn was great, as suspected.

Warsaw Village Band rocked despite an overly-talkative crowd. Big allure clarion female vocals! Oneida 'rocked' & pummeled, on a Sufi MC5 vibe, particularly the shirtless drummer whose feral intensity reminded me of Animal the Muppet, chopping up time by hitting things with sticks. Why have a 3 chord riff when you can make a song from a 2 note riff? Their final song asked & answered that one.

Outside a bunch of guys disassembled a car with power tools, processing & amplifying the audio. I forgot my camera.

Always a pleasure to hang out with Matt Elliott (Third Eye Foundation), and catching another one of his live sets was a highlight for me. Like a growing number of artists, he's not gonna tour the U.S. because of the iris-scan - fingerprint - xenophobic U.S. border policy.
    That said, catch him if you can, melancholic deep contrapuntal guitar & cello & drumkit that extends into walls of tuned textured noise and a bit of those trademark 3rdEye skeletal breaks, using loop pedals to build this complexity realtime.

After his set this 7 males + 1 female Danish band called Efterklang played. Synced arty video, horns, violin, etc. You could tell they were big into GY!BE. Not in a Godspeed-xerox way like Explosions in the Sky though. Efterklang reminded me of Jhumpa Lahiri's prose-- generally pleasant, workshopped, exceedingly well-crafted and balanced, but you get to the end and realize that messiness and bad taste can be vital often get a bad rap, especially in places like Scandinavia.

In Bristol I heard the following songs pumping out of black guys' cars: Lethal B's Forward, & David Banner's Rep to the Death. Cool town. (Dexplicit, the guy who produced Forward, just remixed M.I.A., and it's pretty much like a Forward rmx with choppy MIA vox, very lively!) This being England, everybody else's ride was quiet, and the only other citysound of note (apart from the torn-apart car) was a Koranic reading belting out of Life Express Halal, counterpoint to the Irn Bru signage. Islam versus the most popular caffeinated drink in Scotland.

 ...then a warmhearted Banksy piece: THE MILD MILD WEST

 & backstage at the Malcolm X center

Samuel Fosso = Liberated American Woman

Friday 03 June 2005 at 09:25 am

When I look at myself in the mirror, I am not looking to find out if what I see is an Ibo, a Central African or even a black American. The only thing I can see is Samuel Fosso, who is trying to make himself as handsome as possible before taking a self-portrait.


Wednesday 01 June 2005 at 6:36 pm
  • I´m gonna DJ at Bristol's Venn Festival this Saturday. looks quality. i posted more about it here.

  • The Dutch vote No to the EU Constitution! In a tragicomic and unintentional summary of elected politicians' contempt for real democracy, their Primer Minister said: “The Dutch people have spoken tonight. Naturally I am very disappointed.”

  • This tiger is unstoppable. Inna minute ima kick-off his new DJ mix series: free heat in a variety of flavors; party favors from platinum pirates


Wednesday 01 June 2005 at 6:01 pm

I dug around and found an English-language draft of the piece mentioned below. The mag, a glossy flossy fashiony one, titled it WEIRD GENUISES... here ya go