My latest multi genre mix, track list below or if you head over to my Mixcloud account then it will tell you exactly when each track begins, although with my shabby mixing I doubt that will be necessary.
1) Who Made Who - Below The Cherry Moon
2) Marco Resmann & App - All I Can Think About
2) Before Dark - Baby (Brenmar Remix)
3) Zkosta - Trigger Step
4) Oliver Huntemann - Wahnfried feat Ane Trolle
5) The Weeknd - Same Old Song (Paper Diamond Remix)
6) The Jane Doze - Replacement Ros
7) Akira Kiteshi - Teraohm
8) Etienne De Crecy - Am I Wrong (The Shoes "Slo-Mo," Remix)
9) Cursa - Deep Response
10) Bazil - Infrastructure
11) Fostec - Bon Voyage
12 Rebel Cause - What Lies Within
13) Shabaz Places - Swerve (Signal Path Remix)
Such a beautiful piece of music from Olafur Arnalds, an artist who it is no surprise to hear is also a film score composer, so much depth in this.
Roll up roll up this is the Roll UP!!!!!!!!! of the Blu Mar Ten tune All Or Nothing, stems put up for grabs in the latest Kmag remix competition. In my opinion the original sounded a little too much like an ADHD kid had been deprived of his medicine and locked in a stainless steal kitchen.This remix is the kid being calmed down, powdering up his ritalin, mixing it up with some lemon sherbet and sliding it under the door on a piece of paper. Gobbling up the mixture greedily the boy regains restraint, with focus and the smooth flexing of his limbs he's able to manipulate the door handle in such a way that it opens, allowing him to bowl out smugly to the rolling freedom of the outside world.
Check out some more of their tunes over on their SoundCloud; they've got a very distinct, unique bass sound going on throughout.
The jolliest song about a universal human right no longer existing that I have ever heard. If I agreed with the sentiment (you should see the frankly offensive nonsense I'm allowed to write when I get pissed and operate twitter! Seriously, I was laying into that mug (who is fast becoming the caricature of himself in Team America) Sean Penn so hard on friday) I would almost be persuaded into believe it were a good thing.
This was released digitally on the 20th, available via White On White and could easily feature in the soundtrack for any one of the hundred super hero films that is due to come out in the next few years, as Hollywood plays it safe, sticking to a formula they know works and suits the writers perfectly as it involves them not having to do their jobs and be creative.
Picture our hero, perched fearlessly on a roof top overlooking the metropolis, thoughtful as he considers ditching his vigilante duties and going round to bang that broad he saved from a gang of drunk sailors the other night, although he's worried she might be affected by his own radioactivity, the same radiation he was exposed and that caused him to mutate and be great in the first place. Not that he cares that much for her safety, he's more worried that she might develop superpowers herself and be better than him or worse, go to the bloody press with a kiss and tell story.
The drums are so bloody nice aren't they? A great man once said "There is no good in nice," and I have always been inclined to agree with him but the start of this song had me doubting myself, can you believe it? Thank god the niceness did the thing that it always does and encourage you to stay around longer than you should, to the point where bordem levels are so high that you're seriously considering downloading Ferne Cotton's weekly podcast so that you can hear her talk about herself all day long
There is nothing memorable about boring, you couldn't imagine the meeting between The Drums and your grandparents being anything other than pleasant for all involved but bless em, with their mild altzimers, risk free encounters like these are only likely to stay in their consciousness till the first bar of The Arches intro. What The Drums need to do is storm in there declaring that Lawn Bowls was a game invented by a black man, mean while stealing all grandads Worthers Originals and throwing the empty box back in his face, pissing in the teapot that granny brought through on a tray now being used to eclipse the TV.
They won't like it and they won't like them, but they sure will remember who they were and as an added bonus, the stress is likely to increase the biddies (oh sorry, as of new NHS protocol announced yesterday, "old peoples.") brain activity, which is a proven way to prevent the horrible degenerative disease that is alzheimer's (lots of coffee can reverse the affects quite astonishingly as well).
There is nothing memorable about boring, you couldn't imagine the meeting between The Drums and your grandparents being anything other than pleasant for all involved but bless em, with their mild altzimers, risk free encounters like these are only likely to stay in their consciousness till the first bar of The Arches intro. What The Drums need to do is storm in there declaring that Lawn Bowls was a game invented by a black man, mean while stealing all grandads Worthers Originals and throwing the empty box back in his face, pissing in the teapot that granny brought through on a tray now being used to eclipse the TV.
They won't like it and they won't like them, but they sure will remember who they were and as an added bonus, the stress is likely to increase the biddies (oh sorry, as of new NHS protocol announced yesterday, "old peoples.") brain activity, which is a proven way to prevent the horrible degenerative disease that is alzheimer's (lots of coffee can reverse the affects quite astonishingly as well).
Wasn't expecting this melodic vocal to just pop out of those regimental drums like that, pleasantly surprising.
Fast becoming one of my favourite bands for the serious amount of drama this duo are able to pack into each tune. Their debut album is out now and a must for anyone who likes things interesting and dramatic, which is anyone who isn't a bottle cap collector or Radio One listener.
Feel good, answer and response rock.
The relative new kid on the scene Hamilton, had me at the female vocal and then blew me away after the drop. This one is out in March and an essential for the record bag, especially when you've judged the crowd wrong and played some techy, industrial business and require a floor filler.
Imagine being drugged and waking up underneath the spaghetti junction to find that it's fifty years later, the old roads, defunct now because of advancements in teleport and flying car technology, are being used instead for some bizarre kind of celebrity death race.
The different roads of the Junction have been artistically joined together to form one giant loop by the clones of Roger and Lionel Penrose, created via DNA extracted from their bones. The result is the most incredible race track the world has ever seen, with grandstands looming over all sides and thousands of spectators screaming in glee as aged member of Made In Chelsea and Hollyoaks do battle to the death in futuristic, gravity defying hover craft. This is what that experience would feel like.
The different roads of the Junction have been artistically joined together to form one giant loop by the clones of Roger and Lionel Penrose, created via DNA extracted from their bones. The result is the most incredible race track the world has ever seen, with grandstands looming over all sides and thousands of spectators screaming in glee as aged member of Made In Chelsea and Hollyoaks do battle to the death in futuristic, gravity defying hover craft. This is what that experience would feel like.
Hands up who misses Le Roux? Come on, anyone? There must be one? No. I think everyone has come to realise the quality of Skream's In For The Kill remix, in that it tricked a nation full of people into believing that the woman behind the original was something special, rather than some cringing castrati who puts her ear splitting, beige woes to some Looney Toon, electronic beats.
If only you could condense the collective shame and disappointment felt by all those who brought her album into a tonic, then you could make a fortune selling it to football clubs as a pick me up for the poor bugger who misses the penalty in the shoot out. "Don't worry Anthony Gerrard Son, at least you didn't buy Le Roux's debut album like all these mugs, here, taste their disappointment."
The one good good thing to come out of the super nova like implosion of La Roux's success, is the rise in exposure of her keyboard player Mike Norris, who produces under the name Fort Romeau.
This is a properly apt title, sounding like the Aztecs struggling to deal with the affects of modern warfare in the form of the common cold, recently inflicted upon and soon to destroy them; their immune systems are not prepared. As it takes a strangle hold on their minds they forget how to use their cooking implements, banging on them as they call in feverish song to the Gods, despairing as they've killed every virgin in the village yet nothing seems to be happening.
Supergroups almost by ironic definition are meant to be shit, see The Travelling Wilburys, The Highwaymen and more recently The Good, The Bad and The Queen. However, this new project comprising of musical mastermind Damon Albarn, Chilli Pepper's basset Flea and drummer from Fela Kuti, Tony Allen, pisses all over that definition, pitching it just right between funky and experimental; it has such a great groove.
This is further proof that Alburn and Co have well and truly won (if there can be a winner in a media invented contest) the extended battle of Britpop. Where as Blur have all diversified, with Coxon's very credible solo project, Alburn's musical dexterity through multiple successes such as above, James' craftsmanship in rotting milk into tasty, inventive cheese and Rowntree's, erm, credibility as a lawyer. Oasis members have stagnated. The remaining cast in the skeleton that is the band are throwing out forgettable songs that sound like an idealess Oasis and Noel Gallegher's High Flying Birds have been throwing out shit songs that sound Alex James' salad cream flavoured cheese has soured.
Nite Jewel, who's been backed here for a while, is releasing this debut EP for sale on the 6 March.
A charming little number from this Leeds based, orchestral eight piece, Arthur Rigby. A song that just keeps on developing like a fine wine or the scandal at News International.
This is absolute sickos, out on the fifth of March, filth and rhythm.
No comments:
Post a Comment