You wear your hair in a pompadour! You ride around in a coach with four! You stop and buy out a candy store! You sleep 'til after two! Little Dee (Spettros Green Mix) - Thomas Sahs - Little Dee (Vinyl) great to be a celebrity, an actor's life for me! Hi-diddle-dee-dee, it's Pleasure Isle for me Where ev'ry day is a holiday, and kids have nothing to do but play Hi-diddle-dee-doo, if what I hear is true At noon each day, there's a big parade The river's flowing with lemonade A land of pudding and marmalade It's Pleasure Isle for me!
The grass is always greener in the other fellow's yard No matter what your life may be, you'll think your life is hard If I could pick and choose, and nature wasn't a factor Here's a bit of news, I'd pick the life of an actor Hi-Diddle-Dee-Dee. A high silk hat, and a silver cane A watch of gold, with a diamond chain Hi-Diddle-Dee-Doo, you sleep 'til after two You promenade with a big cigar You tour the world in a private car You dine on chicken and caviar An actor's life for me!
An actor is the king! An actor could never earn his bread if he was born with a wooden head Guess I'll have to be instead a puppet on a string Oh, c'mon now, my puppet friend That isn't the way your life will end The theater calls, my son Calling me? Yes, yes, go on I see your name in lights I hear wild applause for you, You're a sensation overnight The stage is set, there's your cue!
With clothes that come from the finest shop, And lots of peanuts and soda pop Hi-Diddle-Dee-Dum, an actors life is fun! It's pitiful that Cabaret Voltaire's Richard H. Long before the Cabs chiseled anti-funk grooves out of the over-saturated mediascape, Kirk had already mastered the tape looping of drones, guitar blurts and drum machines.
Highlights here include the "Immaculate Riot" of toy soldiers smacking into a wall, the robotic ethnodelica of "Kinshasa Express" and the mentally scarred electro-funk of "Martyrs of Palestine. Despite the voodoo bump 'n' grind of "Medium Cool" and the Aphexian bounce of "Chocolate Machine," little of the music holds water today. The rhythms are often meant for armchair dancing - alas, they were the first to be hyped as "intelligent dance music.
These Canadians led industrial's third-wave, setting the sexualized carnage of Reagan-era slasher flicks to a death-disco beat. On The GreaterWrong, they polish their synthesized funk-metal standard to scream "state of the art.
While many Westerners domesticated industrial for the dancefloor during the '80s, Japanese noise fetishists like Merzbow, KK. Null and Keiji Haino bludgeoned the genre to its last gasp of white noise. Null and Fushitsusha skinsman Seijiro Murayama recently regrouped after a year hiatus and released an album of improv blowouts that summon industrial's ungodly soul. Murayama's free-jazz swordplay and Null's snakebit guitar shrieks, while DSP glitches and vocal wails all mimic a Luddite mob storming into a factory and smashing its machines into the black earth.
A joyful noise. Though these have hardly been unavailable, the excuse to listen once again is sweet enough. As Aeroc, White indulges his sentimental side, strumming feathery acoustic guitar against ruffled, glitchy beats that mimic brushed snares and cymbals. On tracks like "My Love, The Wave Break," a surprisingly jazzy sensibility bubbles up in the murky chords, but White never indulges lounge cliches.
The collaboration on 7 comes off unevenly-the album's mix of synth-pop and dreamy sounds works on the layered "Geometry," but stumbles with too many breathy and insubstantial vocals, as on "Floating. Outputmessage's ornately melodic, intricate techno nabbed him a spot on Ghostly's acclaimed Idol Tryouts comp and remixing duties for Dabrye's "Payback.
Where labelmate Cappo has forged his own distinctively Northern style, these South Coasters align themselves with London's bouncement scene, sporting the influence of ragga and garage on this sharply produced LR For all the breathless poetics of MCs Buzz and Junior Red, producers Pablo and Warwick best their vocal counterparts, conjuring the sort of tightly compressed beats that induce palpitations in the faint of heart. Beat fiends take note. The two discs share an atmospheric, jazzy vibe mixed in with hip-hop rhymes and spoken word appearances.
Celestial Mechanix presents a serious education about the influence jazz has upon so much good music. Skynet and Kemal remain merciless on two collaborative tracks, and the record also includes dancefloor-smashing, and potentially classic, remixes by Hive, Calyx and the triple team of Dieselboy, Kaos, and Karl K. Still, that doesn't diminish DNA's originality, or the spastic spell their condensed electrical drone jolts induce. Mix, the last in the line of newly reissued Metal Urbain projects, also revels in the shock-joy of pure electricity and texture.
Rawar Style's the new album-markedly more confrontational, and shot through with a jittery anxiety. Strafing three nonconcurring sessions together under a fire of frothing percussion, seismic bass yawns and malevolent reverb, German aggressive angst editors Faust and New Jersey grit-spewing hip-hop trio dalek maliciously test the membrane separating headspace from cosmic space. Vocals from Roy Davis Jr. Raumschmiere's Shitkatapult label. The double-time synth attack and part shrieking vocals are easily as bombastic as anything the gear-destroying label honcho has ever done.
And funk they do—on tinny electro-disco tracks like "Staub," which sounds like an 8-bit Metro Area fronted by Nena, and "Mach Deinen Fernseher Kaputt" which adds a metallic tinge before unspooling into a rickety garage rocker. Amorphous Androgynous have finally gone prog. The binary pair then compiled the leftovers of the long, strange trip into The Otherness. Unfortunately, Potuznik's newest full-length under his electroclash moniker GD Luxxe isn't quite as compelling, leaning heavily on dark, dated synth-based industrial rock for what sounds like an exercise in affectation.
Still, Potuznik's album sounds positively cutting- edge compared to the awkward club tunes of Frank Muller founder of Germany's Muller imprint under his Beroshima moniker.
The delightful collection's sleeve shows branches of a tree feeding to and from Allien's body, which could be a metaphor for the results of her remixing: The new versions are akin to mutant hybrids, their origins readily identifiable back to the originals, but also to Allien herself. Once you're there, heartfelt emotion seeps through, a bursting gushiness of the My Bloody Valentine kind.
Inaccuracies of the Mind Machine rolls along the open road with an easy grace. The songs coast, mellow, evoking the passing blur of highway signs in the dusty sun and the thrill of a perfectly banked curve. This is haunting and perplexing lo-fi symphonic pop that rattles, lurches, moans and sings in chorus. Even after imbibing a bottle of cough syrup, the Kid can't help but turn his phasers to full blast, slowing only the vocal in this otherwise manic post-jungle burner.
Indeed, if the globe seems to be spinning faster these days, blame Kid Offering chilled-out tunes of a sexier variety, up-and-coming Norwegian producer Dalminjo douses his downtempo house grooves with a warm musicality; his tracks sound like close cousins to those on the Naked imprint. After a lengthy break from recording, the don is back with an album full of his patented big room, New York-style garage.
So why do you never see Thomas Koner tracks on chillout comps? His austerely gaseous music is the chilliest, most out-there of all. Their influence on III is unquestionable, at least. Relishing in the melting pot of lates New York, the band fused their post-punk approach with skewed but learned takes on soca, Latin jazz, salsa and nascent hip-hop to create a racially ambiguous but undeniably upbeat dance sound.
Other times music plays you. French duo M83 picks up where Air left off, and creates something that could be called electrogaze. Choruses of organs, digital murmurs, burbling drum machines and more combine to create a sonic vortex that is all but impossible not to fall into.
Simultaneously forbidding and inviting, M83 delivers the comfort of the familiar along with the shock of the new. Rob theory M. Its songs can't help sounding so So busy waiting for a commercial breakthrough.
So diluted. So conformed to the conventions of pop radio. So, yes, Martin Craft may be huge in the near future-perhaps even the indie rock equivalent of Norah Jones-but his descent into blandness negates the potential maverick lurking under the surface. The intervening two years have been well spent-the current album is a mix of jazz, soul and various ethnic music genres, such as tango, whose intricate hand-clapping he incorporates on "Diablo.
A loosely conceptual account of an indie rapper on the come-up, Ace's fifth album plays like a prequel to 's Disposable Arts, showcasing his tirelessly modifiable delivery and beats from DJ Spinna and Dug Infinite, among others.
Heads will skip straight to "Good Ol Love," a poignant 9th Wonder-produced joint made for moonlit smoke sessions. If you've got 'em, smoke 'em. Most of the record continues in this vein, with rain noises and windshield-wiper sounds comprising a melancholy backdrop for brooding, buried vocal swaths.
This album is beautifully haunting, and, true to its title, full of feeling. Kenny Dixon Jr. With humorous but pointed use of blaxploitation samples on "Back at Bakers" and "Mahogani " and a sequencing style that keeps songs to their bare, elegant essentials, Black Mahogani is a paragon of inventive, emotive sound where pleasure lies not in gimmickry but in the groove.
But as it stands, Blue Album is a fitting coda to the pair's year career, proving that they still make uplifting acid better than most "Lost," "Acid Pants"but also that they're fresh out of groundbreaking ideas "Tunnel Vision," "You Lot".
Once upon a time, this stuff sounded hedonistic and futuristic-these days, it sounds more like the backing track to the latest car commercial. A songwriter's poetic melding of Little Dee (Spettros Green Mix) - Thomas Sahs - Little Dee (Vinyl) organic and digital, filled with delicate twilight hues, Quiet City is absolutely essential.
The roots coursing underneath New York, Chicago and Detroit have rarely been so meticulously exposed as on My 4 Stars, Lig's best full-length to date. Elsewhere, "In My Arms" appears twice; first as a disco-tech midtempo number, then as a lachrymose cabaret piece minus the former's cowbells and propulsive kick. Best among the tunes here is "My Old Friend," a boompty ode to the Windy City marked by Nicolas Lefevre's plaintive sax figures and Lig's intricately cross-hatched drum schematics.
The Glaswegian trio, who comes to Tigersushi via the label's Scottish partner, Oscarr, pounds away on trash- can drums and Confusion Is Sex-era drones. Suddenly, it's again-and in basements across the world, kids are using punk rock to make virtues out of their limitations. The singer's shrieks make The Slits sound like lounge singers, but cool organ tones offer a cold compress to keep the pain away.
Listening to their jacked electro, you might find them hedonists. But listening to production duo Mouse on Mars aided and abetted by instrumentalistsyou'd think the country was full of hiccupping and giggling oddballs. The duo's first album sinceRadical Connector contains no clicks and clacks, though it does have party anthems.
Idiosyncratic and out of line with anything overtly current-save electricity-the record finds MoM having a Rooty-tooty good time reconfiguring themselves as the Basement Jaxx of Germany. That is to say, Mouse on Mars's sounds chirp crisply, distend sloppily and crunch methodically as melodies swoop in, especially on the first three manic tracks, which are rife with meticulous abandon. On Radical Connector, MoM's car runs red hot then sputters and lurches through rhythmically rotund terrain.
Tony Ware edging towards more. Until now. Leave it to a young LA producer and a British record label to revive the career of this New York emcee. Madlib, Danger Mouse and J-Zone create the background for Po's mesmerizing delivery here, and each track drips with heart and soul as a classic voice collaborates with the best of today's talent. Long live the Prince. Steven Ford received the transmission in Seattle and it transformed him into Bruno Pronsato, whose Silver Cities is full of dicky grooves tweaked to the breaking point.
Tiny samples and gurgles hover and dart around his rhythms, yet the undeniable pulse of "Women in Large Coats" and the Teutonic stomp of "Kuche" are aimed at swaying hips first. A pendics Shuffle pares sounds down even further, gleefully assembling miniature-scale house from the skips and blips left on a half-erased disk. The Rip Off Artist is happy to help.
New Clear Days serves as a primer on the joys and dangers of nuclear power. Its first third edits sounds into glittering, jagged pieces that almost but not quite fit back together, creating herky-jerky tunes like "Too Cheap to Meter" that vibrate like excited electrons. A middle section shifts into irradiated ambiance, unsettled by the clicks of a lonely Geiger counter.
You'll sleep better after the third section, where tracks like "Duck and Cover" recover a loony humor among the radioactivity. Tempo is lyric-less rock 'n' roll, with Brazilian-tinged percussion and Americana's song structure and instrumentation, all of it immersed in a spirited passion for arrangement.
This is your post-rock record of the year. James a. Aphex Twin. It is for these reasons that Vibert also known as Wagon Christ has always seemed more endearing than James, and his gigantic fan base won't be disappointed by this latest venture. Vibert's lovingly ironic acid-house references are present to emotive effect in "Sci-Fi Staircase," while "Shadows" reminds us that certain individuals were making the horribly-named folktronica way back when.
So intoxicating that even Barry Gibb, Elton John, Marc Bolan and anyone else they cut 'n' pasted would sob sequined tears of joy. These guys are from Detroit, but there's something in their true-school delivery that evokes the Five Boroughs and its West Coast adaptation via J Das Baul's evocative vocals float over everything from pumping breakbeat to delicate melodies-sometimes both, as on the lush and gorgeously chill "Kali.
But it's not just a slumber party. And if that song's title one of only four on the disc is any clue, these cats get cerebral on the regular-and all without vocals. If that's your bag, then these guys might be your gift.
Though the title track is a touch too mellowed, "Ragga" makes good on her unique voice and phrasing, as Topley-Bird's old runnin' partnerTricky helps her twist and dodge among rolling rhythms.
Big Youth's legendary voice sent him off and, some tape delay later, he stopped by On-U's African Flead Charge, where he mixed vintage sound system and Burru drumming, but not before he dined with the Arawak Indians, who taught him the sitar. All these people and places appear, and yet Moore was all alone, producing this ethnomusicologocial epic from the confines of his "secret dub lab. Now hear what they possibly influenced. The continuous mix recalls the DSP test-firings of Anima, yet with sharper emotion and scope.
This album seemingly "builds" itself-as the recurring field recordings of saws and jackhammers of "Lokauu" and violent, echoplexed snare eruptions of "Otan Osaa" attest.
Geothermal synths that recall Delay's Luomo project also haunt. Chilled jazz, cocktail smooth, and oh so refreshing!
The long awaited follow-up to the acclaimed debut album United. Co-produced by Tony Hotter Air, Beck. Turin Brakes U. Norway's kings of mellow pop follow their now-classic debut Quiet Is The New Loud with another tour de force in reflective, thoughtful songcraft.
The arrangements are light and immaculate, the vocals coo and cajole, and the melodies are addictive. No Hands The wild wait for the new abstract uptown fire is over, The leader of the Cannibal Ox crew steps out with his solo debut, Look Mom,,No Hands represents the dusty but digital details of Vast's time spent running wild through Harlem's wide blocks. At least, that's how it would appear after listening to the latest round of CDs from the dark horses of the European breaks scene.
Adam Freeland, proprietor of the Marine Parade label, can lay partial claim to establishing the "nu-skool breaks" genre, but refuses to be pigeonholed on his recent Fabriclive mix. Aphex Twin's Rephlex imprint dives straight into the heart of the beast on Grime, a showcase of tracks they've licensed from Mark One, Plasticman and Slaughter Mob. If you're looking to delve into grime, though, Bingo Beats Vol.
The common denominator is a spangled acid touch that makes every bleep and bleating synthesizer line sparkle. Is it microhouse? Able to take on the influences and tempos of a number of genres and make them their own, Marc Mac and Dego have built a career on merging the organic with the synthetic in a mind-blowing way. Fans of Jazzanova, Bugz in the Attic, King Britt and Nuyorican Soul will find themselves at home as the pair revisits the past and charts a funky course through nu-jazz, soul, house, broken beat and just straight up cool.
With the first disc featuring the duo in remix mode before they get the reverse treatment on the second, grab this one on sight, as it's some long overdue essential listening.
Though Dara's mixing and programming is always impeccable, and he selects tracks from notable groundbreakers like SKC, Mathematics and Breakage,The Antidote doesn't offer anything groundbreaking. But we've all heard that stuff before in college. It's the modern tracks that give this soundtrack its legs: "Cou Cou," a new and fantastically cool cut from Zap Mama, Antibalas this generation's Fela Kutiand Pete Rock with Pharoahe Monch all stick it to the man real nice.
The Girls From Ipanema adores bossanova, as divas Astrud and Bebel Gilberto lead the way for classy chanteuses to party hearty.
Samba Soul Groove bristles with '70s favela faves from the era when guitarist Jorge Ben Jor electrified samba. Toss together an actual caipirnha recipe is provided and top off with Pure Brazil. Disc 1 finds Farina deploying his trademark blend of jacked funk and vocal oddities, with squelchy craziness from Cajmere and Land Shark's Trax- esque "Tie Me Up" as highlights. On the second disc, Carter keeps the mixing tight but introduces a disco feel with two cuts from Stacy Kidd and Backroom Production's "Classic Vibe.
Listen dis! Andy Flughes' ex-Orb track barely stirs as it pulses lightly angelic. There are songs that are still, and there are songs that are small. And then there are songs that are just wee. Casiophiles rejoice: Fuzzy Boombox plays like a quirky electro pop ballet of miniatures. Stars as Eyes's "When Things Go Wrong," one of the lusher tracks on the comp, is propelled by a kicky sweetness that's enriched by almost soulful piano chords.
Marc Puchta and Vincenzo's excellent "Nightbirds. Solid house albums though these may be, both are erroneously titled. Not so much. Many shades? Missing at least a few flavors. South Rakkas Crew's Red Alert! Wayne Marshall and Bling Dawg turn the rhythm into a double-time rhyme race, while Elephant Man and Assassin both opt for uncut hype.
And why get lofty, when you can bounce to this? Funny thing is, it all sounds pretty, um, futuristic. Techno-junkies hanker for mechanical repetition that induces four-to-the-floor hypnosis. You either love it or hate it. The sampler gently commences with minimal ditties from Todd Bodine and Stewart Walker, followed by a synth-washy Savvas Ysatis number and loopyness from Pacou.
Anticon affiliates Moodswing9 and Controller 7 make rare solo appearances with their poetic and understated instrumental work. This series provides a glimpse into this group's upcoming producers' bedroom battles and side projects. Collect them all! But Outbreak's first mix CD, Biological Warfare, reminds us of all the angst and power that the harder spectrum has to offer. You've been warned. The Outernational Sound is yet another showcase of the D. Sure, you'll find signature lounge-infused beatscapes by them and labelmates Thunderball and Karminsky Experience.
Flowever, they also gyrate waists with funk-driven selections from Breakestra and Beatfanatic, while continuing to preach worldly influences Indian Vibes' "Mathar" and dub it out with Delroy Wilson. The three- CD set documents house's dirty, bleep-happy underground heyday in the late s with 34 essential tracks mixed by Maurice Joshua and Paul Johnson, and an extra CD of the same tracks unmixed.
But his DJ mix just doesn't work it. Public Works serves best as a showcase of its tracks, which is fine, considering it's a label retrospective. But the tracks begin to blah quickly, and border close to trancey tech-house in some parts. Which brings us to the second note: don't put out mix CDs as extended advertisements for your label, unless you're going to take some risks with the mixes, or you're Michael Mayer.
Just not with you, unless you're rightly cocksure and flick your hair just so. Little Dee (Spettros Green Mix) - Thomas Sahs - Little Dee (Vinyl) ragga tracks have them: those classic cadences and codas that rock steady, only to give way to Congo Natty-ish histrionics. Well, this international cast of producers offers up a "What if we didn't go there?
Not forsaking technology and sample culture, the Interruptor recreates vintage dub sirens and timed-out delays with a VST, Dub Farm gives us the ubiquitous "Babylon shall fall" line from Rockers, while Faya Dub's languorous violin over the "Apache" drum loop turns breakdancers into spliffed-out Lazy-B-Boys.
Switches curates 14 such unsung heroes into a quiet exhibition that will perfectly suit fans of tonal sculpture and melancholic clicks 'n' cuts. And from the sun-specked folksong of Samara Lubelski to the acid-Kraut ramblings of Gang Gang Dance and the pagan-noise workouts of Angelblood, wonderful yarns are spun, with a gorgeous booklet to boot.
Intelligent folks who grow up in the decaying Great Lakes rust belts are punk rock before they ever hear Fugazi and experimental way before they've seen their first Stan Brakhage film. They beautifully translate this unhinged wrath into luminous and humorous experimental noise, called breakcore, and it couldn't be more finely represented than it is here on Ye Olde Barn. You suckers can buy your way a little bit closer to the exotic Wisconsin species by picking up this ass-kicking compilation, Little Dee (Spettros Green Mix) - Thomas Sahs - Little Dee (Vinyl).
Rephlex showcase 3 hot new artists from this burgeoning scene, Plasticman, Markone and Slaughter Mob, four tracks each, 12 new ways of looking at dance music. SciFi ElectroHop Madness! The two girls sampled, programmed and screamed, and here we have their masterpiece.
He does with sound what Brakhage did with film, altering its very fabric and texture, resulting in a gloriously transcendent event that abounds with magical moments. This wild mixture of exotic tunes by bands and programmers belongs to the parallel universe. Entirely exclusive. This activity magnet has reggae and down- beat labels in the works while maintaining Worship's weekly clubs, Heavy every Tuesday since at Soma and Solomonic Fridays at Filo's.
Paine took a deep inhale and jotted down his latest fave tracks. Derek Qrey www. Mark's original downtempo mix is as smooth as his mixing. The vocalist is striking, similar to Nina Simone.
J Boogie's mix hits the mid-tempo spectrum with tambourines for everyone. But the real jewel is JT Donaldson's mix. Moving vocal house music at its best! My pick off the EP is the title track, "Stompin.
House thumpin fi sure! Some quality tunes from these two Bay Area producers. Side A and B1 are similar in vibes, both sharing a heavy sub-bass line and nice keyboard percussion. B1 has a chunkier rhythm, while B2 goes so dub that only a dread can test it His jacked kicks 'n' snares, acid synths, popping electro basslines, tweaky samples and raw arrangements spin like a blurry disco ball after five pints.
In fact, while I'm cruising, deep soul Garth Trinidad's Chocolate City radio show is playing smooth music like this from the African diaspora.
Bling bling. A US label to watch. And Frankie's a fuckin' freak-he's wrong, twisted; a moron with a primitive sampler bashing out slithering house-tech disasters. Dumb ass is a genius. Similarly, somebody passed Sacramento's Steve Spacek a sherm stick I told you it wasn't a blunt!
Sounding like a German electro producer doing slowed- down UK garage, "Work" is still jackin' enough to please the Windy City. You'll bounce like them Nike Shocks. As proprietor of Simple Records, Saul absorbs influences from downtempo, dub, glitchy house and electro into the fold, then churns out deep, crisp breaks numbers that smoothly sprawl out.
Hintenaus, and Precision Cuts. Here's a simple list of what's made it into Saul's record case this month. Vivian Hont www. The arrangement develops gradually, around the focal point of a really bouncy analog bassline. The label owners team up with DJ Rocca from Italy's infamous Maffia Soundsystem and deliver a broken beat future classic where funky fractured beats entwine with reversed keyboard chords, all pinned down with a rolling sub-bassline.
Fans of Bugz In The Attic will love this. A guaranteed floor-shaker. Founded in as a student project on the art of retail by three former classmates at NYU, the Lab has expanded into a full-blown operation projected to ship a quarter million packages this year. In addition to their online equipment and music store, Turntable Lab runs a Manhattan storefront, the Money Studies record label, and a clothing label with a new line this summer.
And these cats are definitely vinyl junkies. Peter Hahn was kind enough to scratch out a few words about this month's hot joints. Griff mega-chops Premier's "Ten Crack Commandments" into one of the year's most memorable and devastating Baltimore club tracks.
Double shots, as this single also features an excellent reggae-inspired track featuring early Barrington Levy vocals. Might be hard to track down, but it's worth the search. Now available on Lamont's Solo imprint, Artifact delivers a level of musicality drawing instant and well-deserved comparisons to MJ Cole.
The cold war is over. DzzpSix J. Flip for "Daylight," a shiny hyperbolic nu-skool number reminiscent of Underworld and Josh Wink. The album mix on the B stands for bunk. Not gonna waste your time describing all four jams and their instrumentals. It just doesn't get this effortless very often.
Thomas Dolby would be proud. Complex guests on "Eye Opener," and overall this single's solid 'ism makes '04 hip-hop sound like cotton candy. Offer good for US subscribers only. Subscribe online at www. Splank and Zombie Nation and Wolfram Gotthardt nickname: Wulfi started their techno label in springthey were drawn to the idea of the Olympic decathlon. Initially an outlet for Zombie Nation's tracks, Munich-based Dekathlon soon became an outpost for all stripes of electro sleaze and dirty techno, releasing records from Generation Aldi, My Robot Friend and potty- mouth Gater.
Meanwhile, it is like a sport for me to get in contact with anyone from the band, [we haven't had any] success so far. Vivian Hott www. Driving chords rest upon shimmering pads on this percussive monster, complemented by an industrial-minded electro-tech edge.
Dark, funky and energetic, this peak-aimed dancefloor jam thrives upon wistful tension. Robots joke and jest on the subtle but slamming "Monoplay," the loping, personality-filled "Stereogame," and the squelching "Two Rings Out," which can expect support from Flawtin and company.
Also on Punkt, P. Sweeping noise washes add a proper quantity of excitement to the reclusive breakdown. Pounding polyrhythmic melodies saturate in vats of raunchy reverb and phase-shifted delays, as the vigorous lead synth embraces unadulterated dancefloor euphoria.
Only serious technoists need apply. In a beautiful demonstration of good taste, he matches Berlin and Detroit sounds, introducing funk-filled grooves and delicate rhythms for dancers who are light on their feet.
Flip for sexier house- tempo numbers with that Detroit dirty edge. Time to retire your copy of Assault's "Ass 'N' Titties" now. Star Eyet WWW. A: We Are Devo! State of Bengalthe movement was a post-modern blend of ancient South Asian instrumentation with digital-era samples and beats. In his distinctive East London drawl, Zaman reviews three singles currently in his box.
Rebel Uprising rears its ugly head in relation to the wars that control the human system. Check www. Recorded across three years, most of the sounds [are produced by] Gilmore's mouth, nose and other parts of the body as well as the infamous Arif Durvesh on tablas and vocal drone.
Technically a dance track, but wiv' serious performances by both musicians. Buffalo Daughter spins it into sugar and Ladytron turns day into night. No disagreement here. On another TS release, art hipster Sir Alice eschews the club for more aggressive experimental- ism, sounding like Gina X fronting Neubaten.
Search both these out. Shirker Nick Strasburg makes a modern electro club track, declaring "I like to take drugs and go out to dance clubs. Derek Qrey M. Pleat Sensor drops by for some tasty old-school production, and Sayyid returns the favor on their "Touch" EP, which is wound up tight as an elastic brain about to detonate.
London's Exceptional realizes that future jazz is a global phenomenon; consequently, the label draws on the talents of producers from every continent. Add a new album to their stack: Exceptionally Remixed, a compilation that collects their limited-edition singles and highlights superb rearrangements by Osunlade, Spiritual Soul, Jimpster, Akufen and Little Dee (Spettros Green Mix) - Thomas Sahs - Little Dee (Vinyl) In The Attic.
In fact, Exceptional themselves appear to be in tip-top shape. Olympians look out. Toman www. Dez is Slum Village's DJ and son of percussionist Plumberto Nentue Hernandez, but if you're expecting rough, rugged 'n' energetic beats, stop right here. These rhythms are polished and laidback with remnants of Chaka Khan and Tribe spliced amidst clean snare hits and lazy loops. Great DJ tool. Rubberfunk transforms into upbeat hip house.
Cleveland's Jugoe drops some progressive reggae a la Brooklyn's Redbud imprint and Apeanaut turns it into the kind of jelly Rick James wants all the damn time. Spins my world! Tribal intro, bangin' beats and an angry bassline defiantly blow up the dancefloor on this track from the long-awaited S-Files LP. I'm just about to start working on the remix of this, so look out for that too.
It makes you nod your head, stomp your feet, laugh and then shit your pants. It starts off with a spooky intro and drops into typical Baron madness before dropping again into some old skool ruff-in-the-jungle bizzness. Zen's a fussy bastard-he was gonna scrap this tune but I had to tell him "no" and give him a slap. This is a typical Zen tune: heavy two-step beats, crashing snares, and growling bass.
Amit's "Village Folk" and "Lost Voice" conjure up the ancestors with deep, dark and hypnotic sounds. The flipside, "Miss U," is rough and sexy as it supplies seductive vocals over low-end rumbling bass. Skynet, the king of sci-fi funk, touches down on the flip with the quicksilver beatdown of "Flydroflash.
There's plenty more jiggle to come as "Shadowlock" keeps the needle in the red and drives another jackhammer groove on home. Restlessly imaginative. Created by Brian Troffer www. Well, it's the end of an era for me. My friend of 15 years and roommate of six years, Chris, has finally finished his PhD and has headed back East to get his post-doctorate degree at Yale and marry his fiancee, the incredibly-tolerant- of-my-shenanigans-and-noise Amanda.
This means I am now all alone in the world, a little boy of I spent pretty much all of Memorial Day weekend moving or doing moving-related activities. But really the fun started on Friday night when Chris uttered the fateful words I haven't heard since college: "Let's have a Maddog night! Drinking a tall bottle of MD is no laughing matter: The shit goes down like cough syrup mixed with spoiled milk, only with less of an emphasis on drinkability and taste. Also, this was a huge test of my resolve about quitting smoking, as, in the past, a sip of MD required several drags on a cigarette.
Boy did I pay for it, though. I think my MD days are well behind me. I'll stick with malt liquor, thanks. So I spent the rest of the weekend hauling shit around. But when I had to haul every single record out of my house and up to my new second-floor apartment, I realized just how many Little Dee (Spettros Green Mix) - Thomas Sahs - Little Dee (Vinyl) I have.
You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone? Also, a quick tip for any of you who may be contemplating moves of your own in the future: If you have furniture that you can take apart-say, a futon or a bed frame-then, for the love of god, don't lose all the little screws and grommets and nuts and bolts and wrenches and shit.
Furniture ain't furniture if you can't put it back together. Really, though, furniture is completely secondary to DJ equipment. Ah, whatever—I can sit on the floor and eat out of Dixie cups if I have to. No biggie. As long as I have a place to set up my turntables. I'll play as loud as I can get away with, but I won't know what that threshold is until I've pissed off the people above, below, and on either side of me with all the boom-bap and the wikky- wikky scratching.
Does anybody else play this game? Just me, huh? I'm probably the only one who also plays the "Fix grammar in signs around your neighborhood" game, too. Example: a sign where I used to live said-l shit you not-"50 purcent off sail. I think I need help killing off the part of my brain that makes me do these things. And so it is in the spirit of self-improvement that I say, "Pass me the Maddog! Music New This Week. New Today.
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