Stereophonic Hi-Fi Futuristic Linguistic Influential Existential

It can sometimes become the case that if you say something enough times to enough people, it becomes true.

Memories fade, and are replaced by a more convenient truth, a truth that lets us forget, a truth subverted by the man.

The widely held belief that the making of music was completely banned in France in the early 1980s, in preparation for the coming of Joe Le Taxi, is one such truth. And one that I can now show to be falsehood.

Well, when I say ‘I’, I actually mean Volga Select in conjunction with Tigersushi, two organisations I have no involvement with whatsoever, but for the sake of brevity and clarity let us keep to ‘I’ for the time being.

So Young But So Cold: Underground French Music 1977 – 1983 documents the efforts of those brave and hardy souls who stood up in the face of Le Revolution de Musique, and continued to produce the sound of the future from their secret bases, deep underground*.

The range of offerings, from rampant future-goth to electro-minimal lullaby, from Blockhead laser-boogie to the musical representation of the-fight-between-good-and-evil-a-long-time-ago-in-a-galaxy-far-far-away, is all the more impressive considering Les Gendarmes de Paradis were out to get them at every turn, whilst they fearlessly fought on.

Here are a couple of the songs of the revolution, presented here in tribute, but buy them all from here. Please. For the sake of les enfants.

Kas Product – So Young But So Cold

Artefact – M.A.E.


* Probably.

Computer Sings

Some people can see the future. Whether this is due to some kind of intellectual prognostication (such as Wells, or Clarke), or spiritual gift (such as Acorah, or Geller) is beside the point. The fact is, they tell us - and we must decide whether or not to listen.

In 1984, a young idealist called James Cameron made himself a little film. The film predicted the coming of a near-future where the ‘computers’ would take over in the early 21st Century, and mankind would be forced to fight for it’s very existence. The film was called The Terminator, and at the time it was seen as an entertaining, if not frivolous little number. Some chose not to listen.

And they were right. It hasn’t happened. In fact, it hasn’t happened so much, it’s gone all the way round the Wrong-o-Meter, so that instead of hating us, I believe that ‘computers’ have become our ‘friends’.

"Where is your proof?" I hear you say, with a note of scepticism clear in your tone.

"Here it is.", I reply, a little too smugly.

The ‘computers’ are making us ‘music’:

Kid Quaalude – I Love Rock ‘n' Roll

Mr Hopkinson’s Computer – Crazy

So, we have nothing to fear. Hmm.

You can ‘download’ further ‘computer’ ‘music’ from Kid Quaalude’s ‘website’, and you can hear and purchase more from the elusive Mr Hopkinson’s Computer from his ‘Myspace’. I believe these can be found on the ‘futurenet’.

Please tell them how much we love them. Tell them, or they will kill us all.

European Punks

It begins in the sub arctic tundra. The punks and local wolves gather to drink and live wild at night. A lifelong brother & sisterhood celebrating punk otherness with music and fire. But it’s tough, the landscape is barren and flat, the town so small, the locals stoical, hard bitten people, unmoved by these young pulsing hearts. The punks vow to set free from this darkened torpor and begin a great vision quest. To explore the punk capitals of Europe and America, and to find their international brethren.

Scott 4 & Magic Car - European Punks

The winter’s darkness is fading into springtime as the journey begins. Cattle return to pastures and the landscape reawakens. The orange and black haired kinder can see the season cycle repeating and a cosy familiarity beckons them to stay and witness it once more, but a greater purpose guides them on & away.

During the journey, memories of the land they have left and their early years cloud their minds. In the nursery where they had first come together, in stormy darkness, when their sect had been forged, hard as iron, like the frost and ice outside. Yet they carry on, singing anthems of punk law, and raise voices high and drunken like their Viking ancestors had centuries before. They charge on into the urban maze of chaos. It is foreign yet shot through with a familiar creed.

They encounter likened souls, in night long ceremonies & parties, bringing together punk spirit in all its international flavours. They also hit up against ne’er-do-wells and crazies who test and all but break these trusting spirits and pure hearts.

Finally through the smoke & noise, they first hear a lone call, a low sound in the distance. Often it can hardly be heard in the anarchy & clang of the city. Other times in the cold quiet dawn, its tones are stronger, more insistent recognisably coming from the direction of their glacial homeland. Through all the heat & murk a new realisation dawns. The punk of abroad is what moved and inspired them, but now something new is sensed, almost within reach, that sends them returning. As though pursuing a distant star, their progress begins, back to the Nordic lands. On & on, the sound which guides them becoming clearer.

Through many mazes and circuitous meanderings they reach the land of home and see the familiar lights in the low buildings of hometown. On returning, the sound they hear still calls them further on, further north across the crisp flatlands, where the ice never fades.

The sleds are packed once again and they set off into the unknown territories. Their hearts are charged with a sustaining purpose, but they know not where they are being led. Countless days and nights pass, the sled runners cutting across the icy surface. The punks no longer know where they are or how to get back, even if they wanted to. On like a triumphal procession through the arctic night with torches and flares. At the horizon a brilliant presence is sensed. They are giddy with apprehension, moving closer kilometre by kilometre, the glowing apparition reveals itself to them.

Scott 4 & Magic Car - Yellow Main Sequence

As they get nearer, they make out an ice pack palace. This they instantly recognise as their own punk Valhalla, something until now, known only in their hearts, never spoken of. On & on it looms larger and more proud. They reach it drunk with anticipation and enter its glowing blue portals. They are finally home and ready to found a noble punk dynasty.

So is the fable of the European Punks which urged the Scott 4 to travel northwards, meet the brethren of Magic Car, and record the saga which this records charts.

This Is No Ordinary Computer

‘Electric Dreams, with it’s zany yet ultimately accurate vision of the future, where computers can talk like real human beings, and rival their owners for the emotions of young ladies, whilst maintaining a loveable sense of humour and fun, is one of the best seven films ever made, ever.’ Discuss, using examples and quotes where appropriate. (25 marks)

Giorgio Moroder with Philip Oakey – Together In Electric Dreams

Jeff Lynne – Let It Run


Further Reading:
Various Artists, Electric Dreams, 1984, Virgin

Am A Musical Fernomenom

‘If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, and sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, then why is taking the piss often very amusing?’ Discuss, using examples and quotes where appropriate. (25 marks)

Artex Monkey – A Bet Tha Luks Gud On A Pushbike

Artex Monkey – Fake Tans Of Barnsley Disco


Further Reading:
Artex Monkey, Whatever People Say I’m Not, That’s What I Am, 2006, Fives ‘n’ Threes

The Danse Macabre

My friends, it is a day to rejoice, and to cower.

The answer to the eternal question ‘what should I do when my hardrive loses the will to live, halfway through the computerisation of my new long player’ is finally at hand. Finally. And it is not a wholesome tale.

The answer has been unearthed by Dr. Henry Shitmat, who found himself in the unwelcome position of hardrive loss not too long ago.

It’s not been confirmed, but I can confidently state, that after a suitable period of wailing, hair pulling and teeth gnashing, lo, the shaft of light did shoot forth from the troubled clouds, and into said Shitmat’s brain-hole.

The answer, my inquisitive friends, is:

‘Give it to the mysterious Spirit Of Gravity collective, to do their very worst.’

Again, it’s not been confirmed, but I can state without doubt that through some kind of hoodoo-voodoo action, these strangest of Spirits did raise the hardrive from the dead. But as is quite often the case in instances of juju and ting, what was brought back into existence was not exactly that which existed before.

To show the world the fruits of their dark arts, The Hardrive Cessation Termination has been documented, almost as a warning to any unsuspecting souls – dabble if you dare, but the outcome will be a collection of frantic drum and noise, sample and reflection.

‘Yes’ they say, probably in a scary voice, ‘the dead can be raised, but beware! For it is not for the faint of heart or ear, uh-huh, hmm’.

Behold then, the answer to the question, and the wonder of the undead that dance. Or something. And if you can stomach it, request the full horror from here.

Terror Wogan - Complaints (Mouse Glue Mix)

Faoi - Blank Tape (Who Da Fuk)

And to close, a brief reading from the grieving widow:

Shitmat – Stop The Ragga

Live Aubergine Show

It's not often that I get to do something good, so this here fills my heart with joy, that I can bring it all to you, oh yea.

Through a series of free software acquisitions and sleight of hand, may I present those fine purveyors of progressive bluegrass Man Aubergine, in what I understand the kids call 'session', on Erm... the Gluerooms weekly primal scream to the world on Resonance.

Four tracks in all, delivered in dangerously close proximity to each other, in a room next to a curry house in Soho. The glamour is almost palpable. Almost.

The Men play at the New Cross Inn on the 14th of November, and you may still be able to get hold of their debut 7 incher from Run Of The Mill, if you're lucky like.

Man Aubergine - Erm... Session 21/10/06

Ain’t Got Time To Bleed

From 1985 to 1988, Arnold Schwarzenegger stood alone at the pinnacle of the action hero hillock.

A run of films that began with The Terminator, and taking in such milestones as Commando, Raw Deal, The Running Man, Red Heat, and Twins saw him ascend to the heights that Willis, Stallone and Costner could only ever aspire to.

At the peak of his considerable powers, in 1987 he made Predator. A life changing opus for all who have seen it, Schwarzenegger is imperious as he leads a fine bunch of fighting stereotypes through the jungle, shooting the shit out of anything that moves, be it swarthy terrorist, pig, or tree, always with a suitable quip to round proceedings off, before finally meeting their match in the shape of a rock hard alien.

In a battle that pits man against beast, Schwarzenegger must dig into the very depths of his intelligence, strength and vocabulary to win, and show to us all that aliens are bad, because they don’t play fair, and then let off nuclear bombs when they don’t win. Sem. In. Al.

Of course, I am not alone if my appreciation of the Governor of California, and we all like to display our love in a variety of ways – none more satisfying than that chosen by those fine swines at Wrong Music, with their Schwarzenegger Series.

Taking one classic at a time, someone Wrong renders it unintelligible via the medium of aural panic, in an attempt to convey the true glory of the Schwarzenegger experience.

The honour of rendering Predator has fallen to Ebola, and I for one have been revelling in his jungle-based, alien-slaughter-up, for a matter of days now. Putting one of Schwarzenegger’s finest to music was always going to be a challenge, but it has been met with a suitable mix of gabba, moody, and loud.

Of particular enjoyment is that the Schwarzenegger Series is all available for free download, along with various other Wrong gems all worth having, on their Net-Lab site, which truly truly spoils us right up.

So, please be basking in the civil freeness of it all, and the need to annihilate anything we don’t understand, with Arnold and Ebola.

Ebola - Jungle Warfare

Ebola - Dutch Gabba

And a special mention must be made of the forthcoming Overkill IV, which hosts a Wrong Room all night long, on the 2nd of December at Corsica Studios, deep in the heart of London's picturesque Elephant and Castle. Tickets are from here or summat.