Badly thought out way to get the bad thoughts out.

Friday, 11 July 2008


Remember THIS post I made about a couple of tunes forthcoming on Geiom's label? Of course you do. You probably even remember where you were when you read it, just like Americans of all ages remember where they were when they helped shoot JFK from three hundred angles.

Anyhoo, HERE'S a great mix from the man himself, from Get Darker (big up Ashley). It reminds me of the mix Kamal did at the Soul Jazz Steppa's Delight night a month or so ago. I was messed up on pills* ranting to anyone who would listen (i.e. nobody) about Youngsta on Rinse in 2005 (incidentally, you should also download Kode + D1 off Rinse in 2005 too), and how nothing will ever be as good as Loefah in those days blah blah blah

And then he dropped Ruffage and proved me right. I mean people are still making good tunes but anything with this much bloody-minded conviction and no-frills power?

Anyway, here's the tracklist -

1. graveyard - a night with two moons - louis and bebe barron
2. reminissin' - geiom feat: marita - shackleton refix
3. salsa house - richie rich
4. the mood vibe - william rosario
5. what would we Do (remix) -DSK
6. frozen time - synchrojack
7. out there - friends of matthew
8. space + time - da real deal
9. losing marbles - trg + dub u
10. protecting hands - clouds - geiomix
11. ruffage - loefah
12. the branch is weak - shackleton - geiomix
13. feist - bionics
14. jah way - rsd
15. glazed - brackles
16. the funk - dj rekless
17. slavin' away - bass clef
18. robby arranges flowers, zaps monkey - louis and bebe barron

* earlier on that night I was violently puking up black stomach lining in the bogs at Dirty Canvas, just as One Man was playing -

That was the moment I had a profound epiphany - I am not a garage sort of person. I love it, but it doesn't love me. You're supposed to wear nice shirts, drink champagne and grind up against girls in tiny dresses to garage- you aren't supposed to vomit, cry and subsequently masturbate yourself into a physically and spiritually numb stupour as stomach acid runs in rivulets down your scarred throat and some bloke in pink-rimmed sunglasses bangs on the door angrily in-between sniffing. That's what hard house is for.