Robot tacky gangster swag making you cringe in all the rights places complimented by an unforgiving, skull shattering earthquake of a bassline. Steve Vai guitar licks dunked in a hot tub of nostalgic confusion and deep soft-core porn vocals warped, stretched and exploited into putty monster groans.
Some of the beats are throwback Amiga/SNES soundtrack-esque but with the added intense fumbling awkwardness and built-up rage of a teenager on their 400th attempt at the level.
Other parts have the feel of a majestic trek through the Arabian Desert but once again carried by the most satisfying of thumping, chaotic kicks and snares.
MrtainClüns2 loops this hot, feverish journey until it hits what feels like a blissful oasis of calm in comparison to the rest of the beats. ~luv™~تمہاری لڑکی sits perfectly at the end as the slow jam to wrap the ep up.
What stands out consistently throughout all the tracks is the flawless attention to detail in production. However the fuck they're achieved - the amount of glitches, filters, incoherent voices and breaths, ebbs and flows in volume and distance, backs and forths in direction, slows and speeds ups, and up-in-your-face noises make this EP gripping from start to finish. Nothing ever goes on too long, though in a live setting every section could probs go double length and still sound sick.
http://princepauul.bandcamp.com/
<a href="http://princepauul.bandcamp.com/track/private-lives-youramazinglard" data-mce-href="http://princepauul.bandcamp.com/track/private-lives-youramazinglard">PRIVATE_LIVES/چربیyouramazinglardدهن by PRINCE PAUUL</a>
"LONG time his pulse hath ceased to beat
But benefits, his gift, we trace--
Expressed in every eye we meet
Round this dear Vale, his native place.
To stately Hall and Cottage rude
Flowed from his life what still they hold,
Light pleasures, every day, renewed;
And blessings half a century old.
Oh true of heart, of spirit gay,
Thy faults, where not already gone
From memory, prolong their stay
For charity's sweet sake alone.
Such solace find we for our loss;
And what beyond this thought we crave
Comes in the promise from the Cross,
Shining upon thy happy grave. "
William Wordsworth 1842
Bloody brilliant poem! So go find a book get yourself up the lake district, to a place called Grasmere, and have a poemy picnic on his grave.
Here's some links to where you can buy some physical versions of his poems because you know you don't read enough.
Have you heard of Badoo? I hadn't until last week.
Another thing that baffles me is the photos that people choose to represent themselves. It's astonishing how many people choose a photo which doesn't actually show their face. Funnily enough, I don't think I will consider dating a guy who has a photo of the side of his undercut and an earlobe as his display picture. This one guy from Germany who messaged me had the worst display picture I've ever seen. The angle from which the photo was taken made him look like a Sweet Potato with a face. I say 'Sweet Potato' because his face was so long, (definitely in the 'root vegetable' category), not because he looked sweet. Never seen anything like it. He looked really, really skinny, but had somehow managed to give himself three chins in this photograph. He was one of those kinda guys who you can just tell would have a really prominent Adam's apple. Another of my favourites was a guy who had about seven different photos of himself, and looked like a different person in every single one. Realistically, it probably was a different person in every single one. His main photo was so unbelievably vile; with his long, ginger hair, moustache, transparent Aviators and a glare that makes Myra Hindley's mugshot look like a saintly Kurt Cobain, I had to show my friend. She pointed out that he looked just like a guy on Death Row that she had seen in a Louis Theroux documentary. That put me right off.
I realised that I wasn't as desperate as my mother was in this incredibly time consuming man-search, and decided to sack off match.com and instead enter the overwhelming world of 'Badoo'. I had heard about this app from a friend a couple of weeks back. He explained that you create a profile and then it brings up the profiles of the people who are nearby at any given time. You can see who is within 1000m of you. That's the closest distance you are given, to avoid stalking presumably. Think my mate was a bit frustrated with it because from what I gather, he was messaging girls within the vague but tantalising 1000m radius and asking them to meet him by the shop and then go for a shag. Don't think that was working out for him. The thing about Badoo that appealed to me was that it isn't marketed solely as a 'dating app', which immediately eradicates a huge amount of pressure and expectation. You can choose whether you're there to chat, make new friends, hang out or date...that kinda thing. So it's pretty chilled and casual. I do think though, at the end of the day, everyone is there to get their end away.
Apparently something like one in five marriages today are a result of internet dating, so I guess the statistics prove that this sort of thing works for a huge number of people. I can't help but wonder what type of people they are though. I think it would be really interesting to create a computer generated 'mean average' person based on the database of faces on these sites. I can pretty much guarantee that he would be look like a potato with a massive Adam's apple, work in IT, listen to 'anything with a good beat' and definitely want children someday. That would be true if everyone in this online dating game were honest. The sad fact is that people try to “exoticise” (you won't find that word in the dictionary, because I just coined it) themselves. Pete, 5'8, 33, from Wolverhampton who works in data entry suddenly becomes Pedro, 6'2, 29, from Barcelona who works in Web Design (with his own company). These people can literally recreate themselves and become whoever they want to be. They can feed these poor, desperate women (or their mothers) whatever bullshit they like. Their photo (if it even is a genuine photo of themselves) will usually (with the exception of the Sweet Potato) have been taken from the most flattering angle possible before being tainted by the most deceptive Instagram filter. It'll then have been rotated 44.7 degrees to the left, to give it that 'edgy' look, suggesting that perhaps this guy is a little unconventional and radical. He will also perhaps have downloaded some sort of free and entirely unofficial Photoshop app and used it to make one of his chins disappear, resulting in what looks like a very dodgy, backstreet skin graft from his scrotum to his face. He will also take off his very sad and dated glasses (again, with the exception of the Sweet Potato) before taking these photos, and use that editing app to fix his receding hairline, producing results that make Wayne Rooney's notoriously shameful hair implants suddenly seem about as acceptable and favourable as a black president.
The section where you fill in things about your personality is mostly multiple choice. You choose hobbies etc from an existing list. One of the questions asks what you consider to be your best feature. The options in the ridiculously extensive list include things like my 'smile', 'humour', 'hair', 'style', 'intelligence', 'eyes'....and then there is an option that says 'a sweet spot not on the list.' It's surprising how many people choose the latter. They may as well write 'I have absolutely nothing going for me, but I do have a massive knob.' Perhaps they're slightly apprehensive about what type of woman that would attract though. It'd be better (and more honest) if one of the options on the list was simply 'my genitalia.'
Anyway, back to Badoo. You can select 'People nearby', or you can manually type in a city that you want to see the results from. I did a little experiment the other day. I typed in 'Crewe' to see what kinda guys came up. Now, we all know that Sweden is known for producing beautiful people, but to see it so starkly like this, via Badoo, was quite astonishing. I have become accustomed and dangerously conditioned now, to the high standard and calibre of Swedish genes. When I scroll through the locals in Stockholm, many, if not most of them are pretty damn easy on the eye. When I scrolled through the results of Crewe....well, now. I found a guy who I used to work with on there, from the call centre. Idiot. It's surprising how many of the guys (especially the Swedish ones) have 'selfies' that they have taken in the mirror at the gym, or in the comfort of their own home, displaying their muscles. It's a grim sight. Some of them are so ripped that they barely look human. When they have a photo of them taken from behind of their back and with their arms up “flexing” their biceps ('take me to the vets, 'cause these swans are sick' style), it always reminds me of the film 'Red Dragon' if you've seen it? When the guy is constantly 'becoming' some sort of supernatural and super-strong being. It just looks ridiculous and inhuman. I just wanna comment on every single one of their pictures saying 'lol'.
In other news, I saw an owl today. Just behind the house where I live. Spectacular sight. Never seen one in the wild that close up before. Such a lovely creature. It sat on its branch, peacefully, with the sun in its face, until a couple of crows disturbed it with an unprovoked attack. Watching that owl, just for a couple of minutes had such a tranquil effect on me. I felt completely at ease, content and happy. That feeling lasted for the rest of the day, and it will continue to last until a proverbial crow comes along and fucks shit up. But I was at one with that owl. We both knew it. He and I. And I'll never forget that. I'll never forget him.
Clara Isherwood
<a href="http://gloof.bandcamp.com/album/wraptaypes-prt-45" data-mce-href="http://gloof.bandcamp.com/album/wraptaypes-prt-45">WrapTaypes.Prt.4.5_ by Knxwledge.</a>
I regret that the first time I heard this album I skipped through a few tracks and threw it aside, I may have been in a hurry or something whatever, point is I missed out because of my own snub nosed ignorance. Lonely At The Top deserves your patience, give it chance to burrow its roots into your flesh and wrap them around your bones. Let it lead the way and take you through winding cascading avenues of moods, each track a delightful adventure in its own right, across hissing chanting plains, escorted by vague eastern vocals and dark distorted deformed beats.
The three TAPE!STRY releases on our store are now available for £2 each (plus postage) for the remainder of this month only!
For a reminder of what you can pick up, alongside some lovely reviews from the Tuning Into Obscure music blog, visit the full post.
I am also happy to announce that my first proper, for realz, full-length album is now complete and just being mastered! The title will be The Trees They Will Lift You And Carry You Home and will be a digital only release (for now).
A zine and a music video are also in speculation but who knows if/when I'll get round to sorting those out? You can get hold of my last EP over at Correspondence Tapes in the meantime.
We met some homeless people this time. After chatting to them for about an hour, I decided it was time I bought a round (of cheeseburgers). They were a good laugh, those guys. Two men and a lady (I think). She told us about how she gives blowjobs for money and gets 500 kronor (£50) a go. She was monstrous, so could only presume this extortionate price was due to the fact that she had no teeth and catered for a presumably limited niche of people who have a gum fetish. She was out of her tree. Seriously crazy. She showed us actions of what she does, and said sometimes she even fucks. She didn't actually say that, because she couldn't really speak English (or Swedish, for that matter). But we worked out what she meant from the crude thrusting movement she made at my friend, and said she would “UH-UH” her if she wants. Not surprisingly, my friend (who is also a girl), politely declined. Her friend who was a man in his late fifties / early sixties said he wanted to show us something. Obviously, we felt slightly anxious at this point, but what he showed us was totally unexpected and equally awesome. He turned away from us, and when he turned back around, he had transformed his face. (See photo). I particularly like the seemingly redundant and perfectly flesh-coloured plaster on his chin. Perhaps it's a fashion statement. A poor man's Nelly, if you will.
I do love Sundays. Too many people write them off. As well as drinking all day, I try to go and visit my eighty-something year old Swedish grandmother (Mormor). She lives close to town, in a cool area. Dodgy, but cool. Mariatorget. My grandfather (Morfar) died in November, so she's alone now. She's usually got a bag in a box of (shit, but by no means undrinkable) wine so I can continue my session round at hers when I visit, which is ideal. I sometimes take a friend round with me, because it's good to have someone to laugh with. Mormor is hilarious. It makes me realise that there are probably loads of cool old people out there. Wish I had more time for the elderly, but to be honest, I don't like their smell.
Anyway, I was round there the other day with my friend and we spotted a hot man in the apartment over the road, and while we were checking him out, Mormor asked what we were looking at. We told her we had spotted a handsome young man in the apartment over the road, and she got rather excited. Next, she walked over to her desk and whipped out a pair of bloody binoculars! I couldn't quite believe it. 'She's an actual pervert', I thought. MINT! I say she 'walked' to her desk, when she walks though, she doesn't really 'walk', she sort of 'swaggers'. I wish all these people that sing and rap about swag could see her. They wouldn't believe their eyes. They would be like “FUCK! DUDE! HAVE YOU SEEN THIS SHIT? BITCH BE SWAGGIN'.” It's kinda hard to explain, but it's a really slow walk, with bent knees and a bent hunch back and her hips and long arms sway out from side to side. Like a slo-mo Neanderthal. You know those classic pictures that show evolution from monkey to man? It has a number of different stages on it, first an ape, then gradually it becomes more upright and is human on the last picture? Well her swagger is how you would imagine one of the figures about a third of the way through that human evolutionary transition diagram to walk.
There has been a significant presence of Judaism lingering around me this week. Very strange. It started when I was with a friend in Wayne's Coffee and spotted a man who looked just like Hitler sitting on the opposite side of the room. He was Skyping on his iPad (not exactly typical Nazi Führer behaviour), but still, we were convinced he must be a descendant of that sick son of a python. The second Nazi/Jew related incident occurred on Saturday morning when I had stayed at a friends. I woke up and looked at my iPhone where I found two new Soundcloud notifications. An extract from the audiobook of Anne Frank's diary appeared on my stream, so I pressed 'play'. My friend and I sat in her room in silence, listening to Anne Frank's diary. This is not the kinda of thing I would usually do on a Saturday morning, but it was strangely enjoyable. I am even considering downloading the entire diary. Anyway, so that was our second Jew experience of the weekend. About an hour later we headed into town and that's when we encountered our third installment A sighting of Anne herself. We were at the train station, when something caused me to turn around, and that's when I saw her. I know that Anne Frank is dead, OK. I know that. But this woman looked exactly like an old version of Anne Frank. I swear it was her. She was tall and slim and looked like she was from another time. Her clothes were exactly the kind of thing Anne Frank would wear. And her hair! Identical. I'm telling you, it was Anne. And she looked really mysterious and a bit sinister, but I guess you would, given the circumstances. You know how some people say that Elvis isn't dead and that he works in Burger King? Well I think the same theory can be applied to Anne Frank. I doubt she's working in Burger King, but she lives. Or like Tupac. Some people think he's still alive out there somewhere. She's like Tupac. Jewpac. The fourth occurrence was once we were on the tube. Suddenly we were overcome with the unmistakably overwhelming smell of gas. By this point we were so freaked out. I was literally waiting for a Kippah to float down from the sky.
I'll finish on a serious note, with a quote from Anne Frank's diary:
'I keep my ideals, because despite everything I still believe that people are really good at heart.'
To be able to have been that optimistic and forgiving during a time of utterly disgusting madness, is, quite Frankly, (whay!) inhuman, saintly and incredibly inspiring. Even if she is dead, her words aren't, and I hope they will encourage us to find some goodness in ourselves, and in others. Despite everything.
Clara Isherwood
dededos
blakekathryn
stormborns
pixelskylines
turnnoffyourmind
annaxmalina
germansingergirl