Keni
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Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Kaledo Art
Not today Justin
oozey mess
Cosimo Galluzzi
izzy's playlists!
Jules of Nature
occasionally subtle
Stranger Things
Today's Document
if i look back, i am lost
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
$LAYYYTER
trying on a metaphor
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@beatstreats
Was fortunate enough to see this band again the other night, at Glasgow’s ABC.
Completely blown away, the best live sound I've ever heard.
Like having all the goodness in the world funnel-poured into your ears like some magical, joy-giving audio elixir. If you get the chance, you must experience this band’s live show.
This timeless oldie is what they usually close their set with.
Café Latte from ‘Tiki’, September 2013
As our daily lives begin to demand more and more of us, we worker bees
demand more and more from our coffee. It’s 8pm, I’ve been up since 6am, my
mind is frazzled from the rigours of the office and I’m now engaged in an evening
class from which we’ve been mercifully granted a break. This long day owes me
a treat – a moment of calm enjoyment. I take a cardboard cup in hand, plop it
under the faucet of the machine and press ‘latte’ – I close my eyes and imagine
glorious scenes of bright green leafy fields and smiling bean pickers pouring
handfuls of oak-skinned drops of heaven into thick wooden rustic buckets,
glistening under the Guatemalan sunshine. I snap out of my reverie, stick a
sterile looking plastic lid on the cup, pay my £2 and sit down to a tasteless,
vapid cup of dishwater that offends my every sense. I lift the cup to my eye level
as if to ask it ‘why??’. It has a QR code on the side that I could scan with my
phone. I don’t know why. I don’t care. It’s crap.
0/10
wee DIY pedal board
have a few gigs coming up and needed something compact, cheap and easy
hardwood off cut, cut to size at B&Q (dimensions to fit inside the wee flight case I’ll be carrying it in)
pair of cheap plastic cupboard handles screwed on, positioned to ensure they won’t get in the way of leads
measured out the space between each item
3m dual lock. way stronger than standard velcro. pricey, but great stuff.
done. total cost about £12, however £10 of that was on the 3m dual lock.
You're the rainstorm, a fire and a trainwreck all wrapped up in ribbons and lace You're a fistful of roadside flowers arranged just so in a dime store vase
No Phone
His shirt was now glued to his back with sweat as his aching legs stumbled into the station and his eyes and ears were greeted by the bustle of people, colours, crowd noise and the chiming tannoy overhead followed by the muffled, incomprehensible female voice of anonymous, distant instruction.
His wide eyes darted up and down the large noticeboard, after a few seconds picking out the flashing words: EDINBURGH – 1014 - PLATFORM 6S. He drew a deep breath and readied his body for the final dash, the straps of his backpack digging deeper into his weary shoulders. He slapped the flashing button to open the doors, glimpsing to his right to catch the gaze of the driver, staring down the side of the train to see his final passenger board.
Panicked breathing soon turned to slower, longer breaths of relief as he scanned the cabin and picked out an empty two-seat position and sat down by the window, setting his heavy backpack on the aisle seat next. His right hand reached down instinctively to feel for the familiar square shape in his jeans pocket. A lightening bolt of panic and fear shot from his chest right down his body and turned the soles of his feet cold.
He frantically yanked back the zips of his backpack and raided every corner of it. Nothing. He tried every compartment again. Still nothing. It’s not in there, rule out the backpack. His jacket pockets. Nil. Nothing. Down the side of the seat. No. Again, out of vague hope and desperation he felt his jeans pockets. His legs began to feel alien without that small, handheld companion. The required item of acceptance in modern society. The life-device, the gateway to the world through a small glass screen encased in plastic so lifeless yet so terribly personal and vital. Hundreds of photographs, contacts, emails. “Did I log out of my Facebook account??!!”. Like a miner without a torch. Lost, alone and helpless as the train thundered down the track, further from wherever his phone might lay.
Half an hour passed of racing thoughts punctuated by occasional jealous glances at a couple sitting at the table seats in front, tapping away happily at their glowing buddies. No such ill fortune for them. Society accepts them. A man without a phone? Today??! Persona non grata. An outcast. Dead.
He leaned his sorry head against the window, exhaled, and for a few moments allowed his mind to drift. Staring at the cliffs, the north sea, a distant tanker. He recalled playing on the sand with his little brother at Rosemarkie beach. Soft focus, grainy memories. A clement late afternoon, a lifetime ago. The two of them wandered along the shore to an area of rockpools and tall wispy grass that swayed in the cooling breeze. Nobody knew exactly where they were. They would wander back the way they came, in their own time. Nothing troubled the mind other than the sensory engagements that wrapped them up in the there and then. The seagull caws, crab claws, limpet shells, skimming stones and every forward footstep was a new feeling, another moment savoured. The foaming lip of the sea rolled calmly over. He closed his eyes and the warmth began to return to his feet. As he curled his toes for a second he felt the sand between them.
(October 2013)
if i saw something new, i guess i wouldn't care
"DIRTDRINKER" - DIRTDRINKER
The ‘puke’ themed artwork on this 12” is an apt visual warning for what’s about to come when you put the needle on it: riffs, lyrics, vocals and frenetic drum hits are spewed into your ears by this Aberdeen 2-piece, with a delivery so full of venom you could walk away feeling either queasy, repulsed, or generally a bit fucked in the head. But that’s the idea. Harsh, heavily distorted vocals rain down like an unrelenting shower of acid as Rennie’s tales of misery, hate and depravity pollute the air. The musicianship is razor sharp - dissonant riffage tipping a cap to messrs Ballou and Knudson and drumming more bruising than a date with Chris Brown. In fact, the quality of playing and production here is such that it invites in, rather than alienates, tentative listeners who may have only previously dipped a toe in to the cacophonous delights of the genre. However the lyrical content is another matter altogether (“I used to be such a well adjusted guy” - what happened???). Most of the tracks crash along with headbanging fervor, but it’s the down-tempo ‘Black Mood’ that stands out for me - punctuating the pace midway through and taking the listener aboard the slow, rusty, creaking haunted house ride inside Rennie’s mental fairground. The future’s bleak - the future’s… puke coloured. Drink up.
FFO: Botch, Breather Resist, Deadguy, Converge
Get it here:
Black Lake Records

D I R T D R I N K E R is Mark Rennie and Ewan Cameron.
"I hate a world that's capable of triumph."
We have such potential! Such capacity for wonder. Together we could explore the universe. Pour our every waking minute and ounce of energy into developing our talents and discovering as much as we can of the infinitely exciting, unfathomable depths of this existence.
No wait, let's do this instead -
'marxim'
Fa are you div I ken you Mintal at jist seems like yisterday Scrappin ootside i Bogie at twa in the mornin Skint knee skelpt dock well at's jist the price o ye G'awa an think aboot fit yiv deen Am blan steam oot my lugs Ere's a tear in ma een
(May 2012)
look(ing) through photos from last year and listen(ing) to this
Couple new pieces…seperate project to anything else I’ve been up to. Still need pics of my Dog man Diorama. Will get on that soon!
my troubled, but talented friend
Not for this world.
'Shanghaiing' by Clearer The Sky, summer 2010 demo. This is the original mastered demo, which I prefer. The guitars are louder and the drum mix more raw, but not in a bad way. I want to remain up here That ladder wasn't short and I'm out of breath I don't mind I'll soon be in your company But the air isn't as pure as I've been told I wan to remain up here I don't mind I'll soon be in your company But the sun does not pour like fucking wine And where the fuck is my welcome party? My feet are blistered and I can't stray too far Everything seems so clear from up here But I can't reach a thing
the elgin marbles
summer holidays local paper shop jigsaws toy soldiers cap guns bouncy balls dandy summer special wee red book every summer i fell in love with these things i don't love the world like i did then i'm still me but not who i used to be a tube fae jocks floating down the deveron maybe the sea will find me slight of frame, but it mattered not for the world wasn't so heavy back then
(2012)
i will serve as an example to man as hope, by defending those i love with my life
