hirez: (Cooper-Clarke)
Part of the way round my fairly regular lunchtime power-amble (It's like a walk, but it's accompanied by skronky music so as to drown out the idling shitboxes, both vehicular and human, that clutter the place up) the scrot-o-pod presented me with FUSE vs LFO, which was jolly nice of it. The sun was out and I had something of a Tyres moment.

If I ever get to write a screenplay with in-atmosphere AG vehicles, the instructions to the set/model designers will be 'All the vehicles should look and sound like Pro-Mod or Nascar.'

Earlier, it had played the German version of 'Neon Lights'.

I first came across that track on a luminous 12" that was sold to me by someone in the upper sixth. He had a haircut and may or may not have been in a punk band, so was treated as some ultra-cool arbiter of taste. That he would sell an oik like me a Kraftwerk record was clear evidence that Kraftwerk were completely over and everyone should buy Pigbag records. Crip Russell, who fancied himself a somewhat temporally-close arbiter of taste (not in a punk band), crowed at some length in the loud, confident and wrong manner that teenage boys of all ages can manage so well (see half of twitter) about it all. He was especially pleased that I had paid like a pound or something for a record that had sellotape on the sleeve and had been thrown down the school bus at some point. Clearly it was a terrible object, I had no idea about music (which at that point was probably true) and was probably a communist who hated fun. (It was the seventies. I was not yet in a punk band.)

At one point, everyone I knew was in some sort of unpopular beat combo. It was a source of regular astonishment in later years to meet people who'd never spent all their money on a drum-machine. What was wrong with them? Didn't they like music enough to want to make some of their own?

(I also like SF and computers, so I made my own. I don't quite understand people who don't have that sort of passion for a thing.)

Crip and haircut-the-sixformer had got their punk-rock semiotics the wrong way up. Which was not unexpected, given words like that weren't allowed in the North Cotswolds then.

The point of the sodding record was that it contained 'Neon Lights' by Kraftwerk, which even through the pops and scratches and poor quality luminous alleged-vinyl, is a transcendent sort of noise. The weird and good music is the stuff that stays in your head for years, even if you only hear a few bars on the Peel programme when you're nodding off.

In 1990, Peelie (although it could have been a pirate or Kiss-FM when they had the two hours of 'acid house' on a Wednesday evening) played a track called 'I believe' by Sensomilla. I wrote down the name in (oh god) my rather new micro-filofax and then life went a bit weird. Much later in the decade, I was at a record fair in Cheltenham town hall, digging through a box of random old techno records. I found that Sensomilla 12", couldn't remember how it went but did remember that it was just a lovely thing, which is why it's in the record box behind me. It only took a few years to find.

A couple of nights ago, the last ever PoI featured something that sounded like a minor-key Boards of Canada. I poked at the phone during an ad-break and found the wiki where people had collated all the music featured in each episode. That track was called 'Bunsen Burner' by some mob or chap called CUTS.

CUTS turns out to be a Bristol mob or chap and I think I am mildly annoyed that I've managed not to find out about them until two days ago.
hirez: (Box Frenzy)
We appear to be back (i) - I look forward to the technical details of the recent DDoS and mitigation thereof.

We appear to be back (ii) - Vorticist exhibition well worth the price of admission. Next door was a random collection of installations, including a lot of archive material from an early COUM, er, event. It was excellent to be able to read the original 'Wreckers of civilization' tabloid piece while Gilbert & George looped in the background.

We appear to be back (iii) - Skiffy exhibition at the BL ditto. It's... I'm not sure what it is, but I think it's heartening that what other people call classics of the genre are fine things to read in and of themselves, rather than worthy and arse-achingly dull.

We appear to be back (iv) - I would like to think that this was the last chance to view Modulate in small venues because all the new tunes are storming rave anthems. Although that's the wrong phrase to use because the first thing in my head at that point would be Faithless, and, er, No.

[Or indeed not. No can has remote posting, it seems.]
hirez: (dissent)
This is both remarkable and somewhat saddening.

It's many of the surviving members of the BBC Radiophonic Workshop kicking it live earlier this year. An event that managed to completely pass me by.

There are bits all over Youtube, but the Who theme is a riot. They sound enough like Hawkwind that I would not have been surprised if they'd swung into Levitation and given it a right shoeing.
hirez: (Q-309)
http://www.myspace.com/slagsmalsklubben

You may or may not have seen the (really quite good) video-thingy boshed out by some student (I think) as a clear homage to Royksopp's 'Remind me'. It's worth delving on Youtube for both, no matter what the cloth-eared gets over at b0ing^2 think.

Anyway. The rest of the tunes on the Myspace are top quality prog-influenced chiptune malarkey. Although using the term 'chiptune' would lead one to expect lo-fi SID scree and blork, and what's there sounds like several AmigaDemos done very right. And/or the theme from 'Amegas'

PRND321

Mar. 10th, 2007 06:42 pm
hirez: (Q-309)
Been in a bit of a pit the last week or so. It happens. Arse kicked and back on track, with luck.

Anyway, I pottered out for a good long (for me, anyway) run into the teeth of a gale and avoiding all the other idiot bloody road users down the Gloucester Road (Those would be the halfwit drivers who park in the bike lane, the halfwit (push)biker who swooped across both lanes of traffic, narrowly avoiding collection by a speeding XR2, the fuckwit in the Porsche, the other fuckwit in the X5... At this point I abandoned the bike lane and steamed past the useless bastards on the outside) because the day was bright, I'd had to go into work anyway and I fancied a trip to the Here shop. Like the Cube, it makes me feel entirely old, clueless and slightly suburban. Much as I'd like to demonstrate my hipness and how 'down' I am with 'what's happening' on the cutting edge of Bristol culture, I'd look like a right pillock in a 'Tinker has a posse' shirt.

It's still a splendid place, mind.

Anyway. Not hiding at all really in the middle of a shelf was a pile of hand-crank music boxes. Self programmable ones. I've been wanting to have a bash at something like this since a trip to the Mechanical Music Museum in Northleach aaaages ago.

Of course, now I need to find the right sort of music to encode. 'Ever fallen in love?' and 'The Model' are the two obvious ones. 'Prototype pop' (From 'Clifford darling...') and 'Rez' are two less obvious examples.

Although I'd need to find some more of the program strips. They feel like thick Tyvek or very shiny cartridge paper.

I have also been watching 'Pump up the volume' again because it recently fell out of the internet, and grinning like an idiot at all the splendid old squitty acid tunes.
hirez: (psyche-out (ii))
For a laugh (FAVO 'laugh') I remembered the p/w on my ancient Audioscrobbler/Last.fm account.

I wonder what terrible cliffordish rackets I'll be told I like?
hirez: (Radiation)
You can extract meanings, signs and portents from pretty much anything you want. I have cheerfully been doing that and writing about it since I was pointed at LJ and remembered the teachings of that well-known typing mistake, Spine Milligtna. So when I bang on about the universe somtimes giving you a clip round the ear and shoving you in the right direction, or sending you a Jeremy to perform much the same function, usually I'm right. Largely because it's my universe and I'd be a sad sort a bugger if I arranged one for my convenience, only for it to show me a mostly bad time.

So anyway. In 1990 or 91, The Neff were touring and played in Cheltenham. [livejournal.com profile] uk_jon (it appears they've installed a LJ winding-house or steam-telharmonium in New Jersey) and I stood at the back of the venue, drinking steadily and hating every second:

"Is this what goths listen to?"
"Seems like."
"Dear God. Who's round is it?"
"Yours. Ta."
(Or something a lot like that)

I went back home (London, then) and looked forward very hard indeed to KISS-FM's Wednesday night acid/techno programme.

In short: Neighbourhood of infinity.

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