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Showing posts from June, 2013

THE FUTURE CAME AND WENT. A.R. KANE. Dialogue with Rudy Tambala,

(on the event of the issue of "The Complete Singles" in 2012", from The Quietus)

“when I think of you, everything goes crazy”

   Libraries give you power. Step in when your teachers are too busy fiddling dixie. Some blessed loon on the staff at Cov Central library in the late 80s decided to take charge of my musical education. I’d have my mind blown by Melody Maker of a Wednesday morning, then by Saturday morning I’d be rifling the racks, in the remarkable record section that could Tardis you anywhere-anytime  in the musical universe, in a building that used to be the Locarno ballroom (as immortalised in the Specials ‘Friday Night, Saturday Morning’).     This wasn’t just a curated cannon of classics; they’d have everything from the authorative to the apocryphal. ‘Hairway To Steven’, ‘Throwing Muses’, ‘Isn’t Anything’, ‘Surfer Rosa’, ‘Daydream Nation’, ‘The Young Gods’ – those records from 87/88 that seemed to unlock the world. Whoever the kindly stock-buyer was they’d …

Finding Autotune's Pleasure Centre: A Dancehall Column 2010

March 2010 from The Quietus (original edited piece here.)

New decade. New afflictions. Porn fatigue. It sets in eventually don't it? Not just in the wrist or eyes or nethers but crucially in the head. At some point the repetition, the organisation, the availability of all that skin starts feeling like too much of a good thing – whither the chase, whither the hidden, whither love, whither yearning? How much hornier did you get when the only smut you found was discarded in park bushes, hidden in a parents secret stash, swapped in a secret playground moment, hard-earned? Just as the charmless ubiquity of all that filth makes you dream of chastity, want your virginity back, I feel the same exhausted ennui with the slaggish textures of chart music these days. If modern pop organises sound in an entirely pornographic fashion, always at pains to drag us intimately into the soft-core close-up, the lips, the fingers, the hardcore loudness & lurid 2-D flash of the club and the limo and…


[Editors note - June 2013 
A warning - this, to my eyes now, is bad writing. At times terrible writing. Not just the obvious fact that too many sentences start with the word 'And'. The thrust of it, the lack of tightness, the voice, the rambling, the nastiness, the repetition, the self-pity. It's all pretty horrible I think, or at least emerges from a not-very-nice person. I probably wasn't a very nice person when I wrote it, certainly wasn't happy. The supposed 'metal' columns I did for CTCL (which rapidly just became longwinded belly-aching on my part) were from a time when I was just getting used to how I'd never make a living out of this malarkey, and consequently I used them to write in a way I never had before, no wordcount, dim awareness of deadline, entirely freewheeling. In a big way I was 'practicing' the kind of writing that in a more substantive manner took over when writing 'Eastern Spring' so it all had a reason but mygod th…


(original review from The Quietus, April 23rd, 2010)

1. I’ve put our uniforms in the wash. We’ve got a few hours to get ready. Aww love. I hope you get banished from pop soon. You're in a bad way. Fatally estranged from your soulmate Death, starved of the real Romance that negotiates that crucial relationship, that way you cheat each other, the way you each make us forget about the other one. ‘This Ain't A Love Song’? Too fucking right. You cunts couldn't write a love song. It's too serious for you.

2. Love, Jesus, look at you, you're starving, you're not looking good. Wasting away. Every song is about you. Bieber to Derulo, Perry to Cole to Allen. All this exposure with no-one actually asking how you are. Have you seen Romance recently? What an idiot. Such slush in your name, so at odds with the way our lovers makeus feel.Anyone who had a heart doesn't watch new movies. Skinny kids getting sappy on each other. We watch only studio system b&ws, only …



Oh man, there's a sound threaded through this that's just EVIL. It's like something from a Japanese 
horror movie, this low-down croak that slows to the point where you can hear every single popped kernel of it, like the kind of weird-assed noises you find yourself making late at night to spook the bejesus out of yourself when you've been left alone with the medicine cabinet. It ripples and reemerges and pulls you under like Jenny Greenteeth throughout this monster from Mefjus on the ever-dependable Virus Recordings and when it starts getting ping-ponged back'n'forth across the mix it turns 'Mythos' into just about the most damn addictive d'n'b track you've heard since Break's 'Love So True' & Calyx & Teebee's 'We Fall Away' back in 2012. Essential. 

Atoms For Peace 
Before Your Very Eyes
Why are Atoms For Peace releasing a single? Thom Yorke hates pop…