Thursday, 28 January 2010

Notes on a Decade: Or, my first/last ten years in pop.

Notes on a Decade: Or, my first/last ten years in pop.



The year 2000 began with a whimper. Tony Blair was linking arms with the Queen in the Millennium Dome and I was in small market town in North Norfolk feeling pretty excited about being allowed to stay up late. I was ten, nearly eleven, a few months away from leaving primary school. At this point in my life music was just something that existed, just something I heard in the car. With the exception of Puff Daddy’s tribute to the Notorious B.I.G., the video to which nearly reduced me to tears every time I saw Puff fall off his motorbike in slow motion, music had no real affect on me. I was too busy drawing, playing International Superstar Soccer 1998 and getting myself incredibly worked up because it looked like it might rain. Such is life.

January of 2002 was when my love affair really began. On the last day of the Christmas holidays I walked into the Norwich branch of Virgin Megastore armed with gift vouchers and a list of albums I’d copied from an issue of the NME. I walked out with Is This It by The Strokes and Since I Left You by The Avalanches. Both records remain two of my favorites of the decade, and rather wonderfully for me, both went on to be hugely influential. The Strokes went on to spawn seemingly hundreds of identikit bands all decked in skinny jeans, battered leather jackets and Converse Chuck Taylors, who forgot that The Strokes appeal lied in them being a breath of fresh air. The Avalanches, with their album consisting of over 900 samples, never made it ‘big’, but inspired the likes of Girl Talk. The band seem to have disappeared, teasing us with the prospect of a follow up to Since… for the last eight years. After falling in love with those two bands my taste was largely stolen from the pages of NME. When they got into The White Stripes, I got into The White Stripes. When they got into Franz Ferdinand, I got into Franz Ferdinand. When they got into The Darkness, I closed the pages of the magazine and ran for the hills.

The arrival of broadband out in the sticks was another turning point for me. Sure, I’d downloaded MP3s off Kazaaa and the like, but who really had the patience to wait forty-five minutes for a low quality recording of Power Lunch by Har Mar Superstar? Though the sites had existed for years before I looked at them, the likes of ResidentAdvisor, DrownedInsound and the undisputed behemoth of online music journalism Pitchfork Media, offered a portal to music I’d never dreamt of hearing before. The writing may be overly personal (and yes, I do appreciate the irony in moaning about music writers being too self-involved), occasionally pretentious for the sake of it, but the majority of the time Pitchfork get it right; the amount of artists and albums they’ve turned me onto numbers into the hundreds. It has become easier and easier to make and release music as well as to listen and write about it. The proliferation of blogs over the last few years is something I see as hugely positive: anyone with the ability to listen to music and type can get their thoughts out there. Obviously this leads to thousands of badly written, ill-informed pieces, but the diamonds in the rough (blogs like 20jazzfunkgreats, Lower End Spasm and House Is a Feeling) are well worth searching for.
Now, where was I? Ah, yes, the development and refinement of my taste. Pre-2004 I was content to mainly listen to bands who sounded like they’d never heard a record before Is This It. Indie was dominant. I even tried to listen to Radio 1’s Evening Session with the whippet-thin, Colchester United supporting, indier-than-thou Steve Lamacq, but even I could only take so many fourth rate bands from Leighton Buzzard with names like The Knitting Needles for so long. So I did what comes naturally to middle class white boys who wear glasses: I got into grime. Grime, as you all know, is hip-hop’s scuzzy, furious, sonically filthy English cousin (and it’s important to recognize the sheer Englishness of the genre) and I was first introduced to it through Dizzee Rascal’s classic debut single ‘I Luv U’. Being steeped in guitar music, I’d never heard anything like it: the bass sounded like it was being pushed up through manhole covers, the hi-hats cut through the mix like blades and Dizzee’s screechy, teenage voice sounded alien to me. I was hooked. After ‘I Luv U’, my afternoon routine consisted of coming in from school, making a sandwich and then sitting down to watch a few hours of grime videos on Channel U. Even to this day, names like ‘D Double E’, ‘Wong’ and ‘Bearman’ hold a place in my heart and I still want to be like the stars of the videos I watched, and spend my days hanging around outside chicken shops, posing with motorbikes. Maybe it’ll happen. Hell, if Dizzee can become the first legitimate Black British Superstar then surely I can stand outside a Morley’s.

Quick detour here to look at the people who shaped the decade in pop and R’n’B: Simon Cowell and The Neptunes. Cowell has been responsible for unleashing some of the worst music of the decade on us, but idiots keep on lapping it up. In fairness, without the X-Factor we would never have heard ‘Bleeding Love’ by Leona Lewis, a song as good as any American R’n’B tune this decade. But pop in general felt stale, no one seemed to take any risks. Indie writers got hard-ons for Girls Aloud, something which continues to baffle me to this day. R’n’B was musically, far, far, far more interesting. The first few years of the decade saw The Neptunes, and to a slightly lesser extent Timbaland, at the height of their powers: The Neptunes’ rigid, coldly minimalist funk is decade defining. With tracks like ‘Hot in Herre’ by Nelly, ‘Slave 4 U’ by Britney Spears and Snoop Dogg’s ‘Drop It Like It’s Hot’, they produced some of the finest music of the 00s period not just in their genre. Timbaland continued to work wonders with Missy Elliot and though he’s completely lost it now, had a resurgent period working with Justin Timberlake and Nelly Furtardo. Timerblake was, alongside Beyonce, the star of the 00s, and like Beyonce, released some fantastic stuff. R’n’B continues to look forward, much to the delight of nerdy white boys everywhere.

In the ‘alt’ world, it was bands like Animal Collective who ruled the roost. AC went from freak-folk/electronica weirdoes (on Sung Tongs and Spirit They’ve Gone, Spirit They’ve Vanished) to a bona-fide festival headlining act capable of putting out euphoric, techno inspired Pop with a capital ‘p’ (‘My Girls’ and ‘Brothersport’ off 2009’s Merriweather Post Pavilion). For alternative music, the 00s was a time when the sheer availability of music, thanks to broadband and filesharing etc, lead to a huge range of sounds being incorporated, and there being a real sense of creative freedom. An ostensibly ‘indie’ band could put a seventeen minute dubstep track that featured samples of obscure Ugandan folk bands and no-one would bat an eyelid. I think this is a good thing.

Hmm, what have I missed? The absurd popularity of second rate pub rockers The Libertines. The rise and fall of UK Garage. Dubstep becoming the dominant sound in London’s clubs despite the face you can’t really dance to it. The emergence of minimal techno. The rehabilitation of funky house. Dr. Dre making a triumphant comeback with 2001 and then buggering off again. Britney going mad. Tinchy Stryder somehow becoming a superstar. Michael Jackson’s death. ‘The death of journalism’.

JOSH BAINES

AND THE BEAT GOES ON: A Decade of Kompakt

Just over ten years ago, Michael Mayer, Jürgen Paape and Wolfgang Voigt founded a record label in the German city of Cologne. Despite their credentials as producers and DJs, Voigt in particular was already regarded as one of the most important figures in European electronic music, they had little idea that their label, Kompakt, would go on to be one that would define the sound of techno over the course over the next decade.


In order to assess the influence the label has on today’s music, we must place it in the wider context of techno as a genre. Three friends from the Detroit suburb of Belleville: Juan Atkins, Derrick May and Kevin Saunderson created futuristic, soulless (the lack of ‘soul’ in early techno records is largely what differentiated it from the emerging house scene that was developing in Chicago at the same time) black music that was heavily inspired by the robotic minimalism of Kraftwerk as much as the bass heavy funk of George Clinton’s Parliament and Funkadelic. They called it techno. Their music was influenced by their surroundings: by the early 80s Detroit had gone from the home of Motown and car manufacturing to a kind of post-industrial wasteland and the futuristic sound of the genre seemed apt. Eventually the scene gathered momentum, becoming a staple in clubs all over the US. Since the early days there has been an affinity between Detroit and Germany. It was Berlin that was the first city to embrace techno in a major way and the Tresor nightclub became one of the most highly regarded in the world.


Techno was, and still can be, pummeling, relentless and downright brutal. Perhaps this is why it remains ever popular with Germans. The Kompakt sound is somewhat different. The insistent 4/4-kick drum that almost defines the genre is there, but the hard edges are laced with crystalline melodies, melancholy vocals and a sense of hopeless romanticism. It is probably for this reason that techno elitists sneer at the it: the music on Kompakt appeals to people who haven’t spent their lives searching for rare Theo Parrish white labels. There is a pronounced pop sensibility to the best Kompakt material, the idea that these are songs and not just tracks, tools for DJs. In an interview with Pitchforkmedia, Mayer himself states that, ‘Techno in the early years was a lot like model trains; two guys playing with the machines all day long, super serious. We always had a different approach-- it was about having fun, having a good time, even if the music is abstract and very modern, it's still about disco and about having a good time.’


My introduction to Kompakt, and techno in general, came by chance. I spent the summer after my GCSE’s looking out of my bedroom window at cornfields and woods listening to a select few records over and over. One of these was Erlend Oye’s DJ Kicks (!K7, 2004). The first track on the album was Jürgen Paape’s beguiling ‘So Wiet Wie Noch Nie’, a record that remains, partly because of nostalgia and partly because of the sheer brilliance of it, one of my favorite songs of the decade. Built around lilting, swooning synth pads and a dusty vocal sampled from an old Sonya Lubke record, it was the most beautiful four minutes of music I’d heard. There were other examples of the microhouse sound that I would come to become obsessed with in the following years: Skatebard’s fizzy ‘Metal Chix’ and Ricardo Villalobos’ ‘Dexter’ a track that seems to both melt, and slow down time. After Erlend, I delved into the Kompakt catalogue starting with various compilations and mixes, and they were a formative part of my musical education. I got into harder, more obscure stuff as a result and for a long time, listened to nothing but minimal techno, much to the annoyance of friends and flatmates.


Kompakt are undeniably stylish. In the 90s techno was associated with austere looking bald men wearing severe glasses and green coats, and Kompakt, along with the likes of BPitch, Get Physical and Perlon, was one of the labels that made the genre ‘sexy’ again. The music was warmer than the original Detroit tracks, more inviting to outsiders and easier to dance too. The label’s aesthetic is all clean lines and bold text. This uniformity seems oddly fitting for a label that has a roster including the likes of Kaito (blissed out trance), Gui Boratto (infectious house straight out of South America) and GAS (Wolfgang Voigt’s modern-classical/ambient moniker).


It is Michael Mayer, though, who has become the undoubted star of the label. Though his solo productions aren’t necessarily among Kompakt’s finest releases he can lay claim to have put out three of the finest mixes of all time in Fabric 13, Immer and the Peel Session. DJs often talk about ‘narratives’ and ‘journeys’ and the importance of tracks flowing, combining to create something new. Mayer is the master of letting his song selections breathe, giving them time to develop, to unveil themselves fully. He doesn’t go in for the flashy mixing style like some, preferring subtle transitions. The album he released for the Farringdon based club is a perfect snapshot of the heavier side of his record collection, and the session he did for John Peel is an excellent introduction to the ‘schaffel’ (imagine glam rock meeting techno. But not as awful as that should be.) sound that briefly dominated the label’s release schedule, but it is Immer that is most deserving of a closer look. Immer is, and I have to admit that I can only talk about this record in hyperbolic terms, a masterpiece. It’s 70 minutes of the finest techno of the decade that manages to incorporate birdsong (Superpitcher’s remix of ‘Crokus’ by Carsten Jost) swathes of portentous German classical music (Tobias Thomas and Superpitcher’s edit of ‘Perfect Lovers’ by Phantom/Ghost) and what sounds like an electric saw breaking (‘Surface’ by Paul Nazca). It’s become one of the defining techno records of the decade and probably the one that secured Kompakt’s place in the electronic music canon.


They may not be releasing must-have 12”s as regularly as they were a few years back, but there’s still a lot to get excited about. Next year should see new releases from the likes of Superpitcher, DJ Koze and Ewan Pearson. The classic Kompkat sound, ‘a mix of minimalism, melody, and melancholy, often with an underlying pop sensibility’ is one that resonates with a huge number of people: Mayer and co regularly play some of the biggest clubs in the world. And, well, to end on a personal note, I can’t imagine what my life would be like if I’d never heard ‘So Weit Wie Noch Nie’ way back in 2006.


JOSH BAINES

Wednesday, 27 January 2010

Song of the Day pt.7

Golden Boy ft. Miss Kittin - Rippin Kittin



Saturday, 23 January 2010

Song of the Day pt.6

John Parr - St. Elmo's Fire (Man in Motion)

Friday, 22 January 2010

Song of the Day pt.5

The Avalanches - Since I Left You (Modular, 2001)


This is, without doubt, probably the best song ever written. Instant burst of summer.

Thursday, 21 January 2010

Song of the Day pt.4

Donald Byrd- Love Has Come Around


Top notch disco.

Wednesday, 20 January 2010

Song of the Day pt.3

Outkast - Return of the 'G' (1998)


Andre and Big Boi at their very best. I don't think they ever topped this one.

Tuesday, 19 January 2010

Oldies but goldies!

We've all heard that pontificating turn of phrase about the old ones being the best, but fuck me if it’s an idiom that doesn’t consistently ring true. These days more than ever I’m getting a lot of pleasure from delving head first in to the back catalogue of bands whose output had either gotten lost in the sands of time or that I’d just completely manage to miss out on due to either my own ignorance or being born in the wrong decade. As such, I’ve decide that I’ll now be taking the time to provide showcase for the forgotten classics that could of been something and the timeless tracks that I just never had the good sense to listen to before. Hopefully you’ll dig them all as

much as I do, at any rate it gives me a platform to name drop semi-obscure bands and artists without sounding too much like a pompous elitist.

To start us off today, I’ll be talking about the oft referenced, but rarely talked about (at least in the circles I move in) dance punk group Medium Medium. They came out of Nottingham and on to the post punk scene in earnest way back in ‘81 with their second single “Hungry, So Angry”; the track was and is nothing short of a belter. A full force cacophony of shrieking guitars, pained vocals and wailing sax, all accompanied a slap bass line tastefully appropriated from the funk/R&B genres that many of their contemporaries were experimenting with at the time. Though it was essentially a break up song, there was nothing fey or reserved about the way the song was delivered, it mixed gloomy post punk catharsis and woe with a hubris that wouldn’t sound at all out of place on dance floors of any of the discotheques at the time.





After a slew of positive press and adulation, and a few slots supporting U2 of all people, the band went on tour. Members left and members joined but the time their first and only album “The Glitterhouse” hit the record stores the band decided to call it quits, no more than a year after the single that bought them their fame had been cut. Singer and sax player John Rees, who had always maintained an interest in world music went on to start up the ethnically influenced C Cat Trance (who are excellent by the way) , and the band fell into relative obscurity, whilst other northern post punk groups such as Gang Of Four experienced almost meteoric rises to fame.

Despite all this, I think the “The Glitterhouse” has left a pretty audible mark on modern music of its genus, one I’d say was as prominent and as important as Gang of Four did. To listen to as a whole it sounds like an album The Rapture, Radio 4 or some other band of that ilk could have made or at least ripped off, there’s a rawness to it I’m reminded of whenever I listen to House of Jealous Lovers or something similar.

As good as Hungry, So Angry is, the best song off the album is the one that it shares its title with, The Glitterhouse. It’s a wacked out little ditty based on the ranting of a friend of the band who was going through a mental breakdown at the time and later joined a cult, it comes fully equipped with a hauntingly distant, yet entirely temperamental vocal and is bolstered by sparse, teasingly ethnic percussions. It only lasts about two minutes, one of the shortest on the whole album but there’s something very ghostly about it, both in terms of the way the song comes across and the subject matter itself, all the different aspects of the song seek to gain your full attention and by the time it’s gotten you hooked, it’s gone as quick as it arrived.

So there you have it, an oldie that is truly a goldie, I just can’t get enough of it, and you should check it out too.


Here’s a link to the album’s title track. Enjoy.


Written by Charles, originally posted here

Song of the Day pt.2

Fox the Fox - Precious Little Diamond


Classic Italo Disco. Plus the lead singer is BUFF.

Monday, 18 January 2010

Song of the Day pt. 1

Gui Boratto - No Turning Back (Kompakt, 2009)



Ignore the awful picture that illustrates the video and bask in the glow of Brazil's master of minimal at his finest.

Wednesday, 6 January 2010

Ewan Pearson Interview


A few weeks back, feeling slightly cocky after having a piece published in the Goldsmiths magazine (oh, the glamour!) I decided to email one of my favourite DJs/producers/remixers in the world and invited him to answer a few questions for this blog. It took a bit of time to get things sorted, but I eventually got my questions through to Ewan Pearson.

I've been a fan of Pearson's since downloading the mix he put together for Allez-Allez (which you can get here) on a whim and being spellbound by the blend of disco, deep house and with the last track on the mix (Beyond the Wizard's Sleeve's remix of Roscoe by Midlake) psychedelic folk-rock. After that I added Fabric35 to my burgeoning collection of the metal tinned series and was delighted by the harder sound within. His other official mix album, Sci-Fi-Hi-Fi Vol. 1 (Soma, 2005) was similarly wonderful and introduced me to one of the 00s forgotten classics in Broken Dream by Da Fresh.

But it's his work as a remixer that really interested me. From turning Courtney Tidwell's 'Don't Let The Stars Keep Us Tangled Up' into a 12 minute spacefolkcosmiccountryminimaldisco epic to his recent House mix of 'Hazel' by Junior Boys (a sultry 9 minute deep house slow jam) he's been consistently one of the most interesting people working within the house/techno scene.

So, many thanks to Ewan for answering the questions put forward to him.


Blank Cassettes: Is Berlin really as full of producers/DJs/artists as we're told? If so, what is it that makes the city so appealing (other than the cheap rent)?

Ewan Pearson: It does feel a bit like it sometimes - in the same way that you're never more than a metre away from a rat in New York, you could say the same in Berlin about DJs. I'm not sure why to be honest. I came here just a little before the hype really kicked in, but only because i like the atmosphere of the place rather than for musical reasons. Musically I was a bigger fan of the music coming from places like Frankfurt and Cologne, labels like Playhouse and Kompakt. We are really lucky here with the club situation though - and it's only when you travel to other places that you remember - I went out for a bit on January 2nd and there were massive queues at Weekend and Watergate despite the fact it was a couple of days after New Year's.

BC: What's been exciting you recently music wise?

EP: All sorts of things - Andrew Weatherall's album, Andre Lodemann, Azari & III, Populette, Good Guy Mikesh, Oni Ayhun, everything that DJ Koze and Paul Woolford have done this last year, John Talabot.

BC: How do you go about deciding what remix commissions to accept?

EP: It's usually just gut feeling really - is there something about the track or the artist that really appeals and do I think I can do something which I will like and will please them too? If i can't do both then I say no. There have been a couple of things I was asked to do which I was gutted not to be able to think of a way to manage - Shakira was probably the biggest act - but i couldn't think of a way to do it. I have no problem with remixing a big pop act - it's just a question of thinking of the right approach. I try never to remix something I positively dislike; when i started it wasn't always that way. I think people regard your choices as part of why they like you - if you're careful and don't just try and cash in, hopefully you have a longer career and a better reputation. That's the theory anyhow.


BC: If you could remix any track ever, past or present, what would it be and why?

EP: Erm, I used to have a no classics remix policy but then jumped at the chance to remix Depeche Mode "Enjoy The Silence" when I got offered that. There's oodles of things I guess. I would have loved to have remixed something from Kate Bush's last record - the 2nd CD of Aerial was incredible - balearic wonderfulness that could have had some extremely sympathetic treatments I think. I'd love to remix Fleetwood Mac if only to get my hands on the multitracks and sample the drums to hell.


BC: What can we expect from the forthcoming mix you're doing for Kompakt? Is it going to be as dance-floor orientated as Fabric 35 or similar to, say, the And Now To Bed... mix you did for Allez Allez?

EP: It's different again to both of those - it is a little less heads-down dancefloor than fabric, and deliberately a bit more musically diverse. It was definitely compiled with a Kompakt sensibility in mind - quite melodic, with key mixes and things. Then it gets slower and more song-based at the very end.


BC: What's next for Ewan Pearson?

EP: Well I'm on the promo trail for the mix CD. Plus, Delphic's album is coming out next week which I'm excited about - that was lots of my 2009 and so I hope people like it. The guys are really talented and they deserve massive success. Then there's a new album from Tracey Thorn which comes out in May - that's finished and quite different to Out of the Woods. She's written some amazing songs and sounds better than she ever has maybe. Then there a couple of new releases ready for Misericord, my occasional 12 label - a new thing from Al Usher and a new EP from October. And then, i'm not sure - i have some possible production things to do, but I'm not going to rush into anything. I would like to make some original music too this year, but I think I've forgotten how!




Be sure to check out his forthcoming mix album, We Are Proud of our Choices for the legendary Kompakt records, more info on which you can find here: Pearson for Kompakt

Sunday, 3 January 2010

MUMMY, IT SCARES ME.

This was originally posted on the awesome Clinic Presents blog. Posting it here with added links so you can scare yourself at night. Enjoy.


The Creepiest Headphone Songs Ever


It’s a fact that music has become invasive. Unless you find yourself in a university library or a sensory deprivation tank then it’s nigh on impossible to avoid music entirely. Anyway, lying in bed with your headphones on, preferably in the dark, is one of life’s small pleasures. Unless you happen to be listening to one of these songs:

Akon ft Snoop Dogg – I Wanna Fuck You
From the album Konvicted (Konvict Muzik, 2006)
A confession: I actually really, unironically, love this song. Mainly because I’m a sucker for Akon’s slightly alien, effeminate voice and Snoop’s laid back delivery. Plus it sounds just like the seminal Luckycharm 12” by German techno babe Ada, which leads me to believe that Akon is a big fan of the Berlin/Cologne minimal axis. But holy fuck this it’s creepy. The basic conceit is that ‘Kon’s in a strip club and sees some girl he wants to bang. Instead of asking her politely if she’d like to go for a drink, maybe a movie, hell, maybe even a meal, he just flashes the cash and repeatedly tells her how much he wants to fuck her. Except he can’t pronounce the word properly and it comes out as ‘furk’, which is worse if anything. The radio edit takes it a step further and ramps up the creepiness by having Akon tell this girl that he just wants to ‘love’ her, an idea that seems both innocent and desperate. Snoop does his normal overtly sexual thing and goes on and on about how he’s ‘bird’s eye, got a clear view, you can’t see me, but I can see you’ but you know what? ‘Pussy is just pussy’ he tells her, but she’s ‘pussy for life’. Feminism was a success wasn’t it?

(Spotify)

Sufjan Stevens – John Wayne Gacy Jr
From the album Illinois (Asthmatic Kitty, 2005)
Let’s be serious here: John Wayne Gacy is one of the creepiest people to ever live. He raped and killed at least 33 young men. He dressed as a clown and threw block parties to entertain children. There is nothing creepier than a murderer dressed as a clown. That’s a fact. So it was surprising to see the normally quite dull Pitchfork approved Stevens to write a great song about Gacy. It’s effective because of the little details he picks out (mentioning the victims having ‘summer jobs’ sticks out in the mind) and the atmosphere of quiet desperateness that he conjures up. The last verse is an absolute killer:

And in my best behavior
I am really. Just. Like. Him
Look beneath the floorboards
For the secrets I have hid

(Spotify)

Lightning Bolt – Duel in the Deep
From the album Wonderful Rainbow (Load, 2003)
A few years back, I asked Father Christmas to get his elves to make me up a copy of Wonderful Rainbow because a) the cover was beyond rad b) the 30 second sample of one of the tracks I heard on Amazon got my pumped and c) it was that or It’s Always 1999 by Mindflayer (I was determined to have one album released on Load) and well, that record’s a bit gash. Saint Nick delivered the goods and I played WR over and over, reveling in its technicolour ejaculations of melody. No record before or since can get me this stoked. Except for the last track. God, that last track. 6 minutes of detuned bass ambling along, sounding like some horrendous underwater beheading. The only stuff I’ve heard that makes me feel as ill as ‘Duel in the Deep’ does is Wolf Eye’s Burned Mind (Sup Pop, 2004), which is potentially the worst thing I’ve ever heard. And I only bought it ‘cos Mojo gave it 5 stars. That was the last time I trusted those guys.

(Spotify)

Daniel Bedingfield – Gotta Get Thru This
Single (Relentless Records, 2001)
UK Garage/2step produced some utterly amazing music that still sounds great today and is a reference point for a lot of the Hyperdub et al producers. But some of it was almost ungodly. Close your eyes and listen to Gotta Get Thru This. Picture Bedingfield’s gunty little beard, that braindead look in his eyes and the possibility that he probably still bathes with his sister. Then listen to the vocal. That horrible, whining, strained, pitched-up vocal. Then listen to the really lazy beatboxing in the background. Then listen to the lyrics. Then remember the video with Daniel chasing some bird around a stairwell. Then turn the song off and have a cold shower.

(Spotify)

Bam Bam – Where’s Your Child?
12” (Desire Records, 1988)
A robotic voice asking you, over and over, ‘WHERE’S YOUR CHILD?” a jackin’ bassline, an insistent 3 note synth melody. Acid house could be creepy. As. Fuck. I don’t even want to imagine the terror of hearing this record on drugs. I get scared enough listening to it in bed with a glass of cherryade.


Honorable Mentions:
Xiu Xiu – I Luv The Valley OH!
Suicide – Frankie Teardrop
Rhoda with The Special AKA – The Boiler
Jandek – Nancy Sings

Saturday, 2 January 2010