Tuesday, 23 February 2010

join the queue

I saw in the new year at Sosho at a basement party thrown by Pearl Flash.
Italo godfather Casco oversaw proceedings.
The venue is perfect for me.
You always have the space to dance, which makes for a great atmosphere.
The music I remember being as inspiring as the space itself,
even if the only track I can remember is a Billie Jean disco instrumental.

Casey and Fred Gazebo, the two wise heads behind the soirée, are thankfully just as adept at making tunes as they are at playing them. Along with Gumbo Stoop, they make up Luxury Living. Gloriously, decadent disco-pop is their calling card. Watch out for their upcoming remix of Something I'm Not by Penguin Prison. The group play live at the Queen of Hoxton on March 6th before curating a new club night, Fancy.

Friday, 19 February 2010

a handsome stranger called death

There's so much to like from this track from FOE. I like how the vocal dances on tenterhooks, skating half the way to cloying but way too knowing to ever plumb such depths. I like the keys, evocative of fairgrounds, wurlitzer wobbles and dirty, candy floss. The guitar circa 1989. Typical production from partner-in-crime, Entrepreneurs. I like the menacing veneer to it all. I like the oral acrobatics that in most cases would be showboating - on this trip they sugar-rush uncontrollably, giving off the giddy feeling of riding a waltzer that doubles as a jacuzzi.

A Handsome Stranger Called Death by THISISFOE

Wednesday, 17 February 2010

shadow sifter

Head up to Dalston and somewhere you'll find a dungeon. Except it isn't really a dungeon, it's a bedroom belonging to Marmaduke's. His day job is soon to be a-touring the country with soon to be massive Babe Shadow, who are supporting the gargantuan pop machine and Florence. The aforementioned guitar-slingers are purveyors of timeless, rousing good-time melodies, irresistibly constant little reminders to seize every moment and lose yourself at the same time.

Babe Shadow - Heart (via Abeano)

Marmaduke's nascent output is altogether more fractured, blessed with far too much light for it ever really feel like a dungeon. Sure, in brobdingnagian adventure there are moments that flicker with harrowing possibilities, but on the whole it feels like a glorious sojourn in the shade.

Tuesday, 16 February 2010

the golden power

Languid and epic; they come together to form the unlikeliest of bedfellows. A fusion of the sleek and sultry and chillingly crisp, a chromatose panther dancing on ice before mutating into a car like one of those flickeringly, improbable adverts. The coup de grace is the way Sarah Assbring sits astride it all, pronounced, playing the part of the executioner and the sentenced, the puppet and the strings (ably assisted by Rasmuss Hägg). Great pop in that sense, because from the second it comes washing in, the bassline insistent whilst unhooking a latch inside, I realize Change of Heart has been on the stereo somewhere else forever. And even when you've stopped and breathed it in its golden power, it will still be there.

El Perro Del Mar - Change of Heart

Thursday, 11 February 2010


I've never been to Africa but if a sudden and total life swap occurred, my surroundings transplanted, I'd go to T-Bar Bamako this Sunday. Back from his holidays in Congo, Myd would be the house DJ. Well in with Fool House's finest, QoSo, the remix package from Train to Bamako also features Femme en Fourrure, Milk Run and Monsieur Monsieur. Fellow Club Cheval cohort Canblaster comes up trumps on the remix front, the original train goes into overdrive, fuelled by classic stabs and a bass-solo that veers into the dirt-track.

Friday, 5 February 2010

catalan cabbies

Civil Civic will get you by the balls. I haven't come across anything this year that brings the party like this.

Less Unless, the standout track, is a thrilling lesson in how to cram a fuckload of ideas into a four-minute romp that has FUN tattooed in large, glowing letters all over its chameleonic skin. So incredibly evocative, I envisage a schizophrenic conception consisting of some choice elements. Their blog, as highlighted by NME, imagines a video with a charismatic airplane pilot losing control of his mojito.

If I were the director I would place my camera in the cabin of this joyously doomed flight from London to Barcelona. The hostess, called Jane, sets the pulse by clapping, instigating a pulse that never ever wavers. Dave, from Sydney, is transfixed. He was expecting her to go through the safety procedures.

The only option for him is to remove his guitar from the overhead locker and stand in the aisle, unleashing intricate lines that climb and dart all over. His nameless co-passenger, expecting a lifejacket, then discovers a drum-machine under his chair. He inadvertently switches it on. He was expecting a life-jacket.

In business class they have synthesizers, Evan Mast is there and he whirls out some typically charismatic shimmers whilst waiting for the hostess to come serve him more whiskey. After a quick freshen up in the toilet, a lank American guitarist circa ninety-ninety something emerges from the toilet with a riff that inspires every passenger to get up and start trying to dance. A Swede called Henrik is doing the Macarena for some reason.

By this point, the CEO of nameless corporation number sixty five has totally lost it with the hostess who failed to serve his wine correctly and is now doing the can-can. The splash of red on his Dior suit that he just had laundered that very morning is clearly never ever going to come out and he lashes out, sending her flying through the window. Cabin pressure lost, he turns into a zombie and starts screaming blue murder. Aforementioned mojito spilling pilot realizes shit has hit the fan and presses the eject button.

Newly airborne, watching the party detritus below him, he wonders why he isn't dead and wonders also why his parachute has built-in speakers and drinkholder. He then realizes he's in a music video. Unsurprisingly all the passengers have found a new dancefloor, on top of the biggest cloud you've ever seen. People are cloudsurfing on the nearby cumulus mediocris. The hostess never stops clapping.

Civil Civic - Less Unless

///buy their tape

Thursday, 4 February 2010

concrete gold

A gremlin stuck, holding on tight to the axel rod on the trailer, heading upstate. In my mind’s eye, this depiction is the mutant undercarriage of that earnest escapist bandwagon eagerly piloted by Springsteen and recent incumbents of his 'crown'; hero of the downtrodden.

Holding on for dear life would be an exaggeration, when life isn’t something held dear. Overwhelming, overwhelmed and all crumpled, WU LYF sail so close to the brink with such fervour, it gets hard to make out where the brink even is. After three minutes of all night warding away demons, a sleepy keyboard coda emerges and envelops you, still bristling.

WU LYF - Concrete Gold

and just to paint another kind of picture

Ed Harcourt - Atlantic City

///cheers to sam for the tip
///check out their blog

Tuesday, 2 February 2010


You can't get out of bed
'cause the second you open your eyes
the weather is shite,
It's enough of an excuse
to bury your head and and sleep through.

Moullinex - Lover In Me

Some music just sounds like pure, unadulterated summer.
This is helping me tell S.A.D. to fuck right off.
A fortnight ago, I was on that beach.

This is definitely one for the apéro at RESPECT.
I've enjoyed Luis Clara Gomes' output ever since his excellent remixes for Cut Copy and Tellier.
This is a taster for his debut EP, which will be out on Gomma.
A live band is in the works as well. He's going to play bass. Naturellement.