Right, that's it, it's official. I'm excited! About what I do not know? But, non the less I'm excited!
Sooo Thursday, bad chest is getting better (seemingly) but I'm still resting up to make sure. Can't believe I actually missed carnival, that's like the first time in 10 years?? I kept getting phone calls all fukin day from various people shouting over the top of sound systems about this and that and "Where the fuck are you!!" etc. But no, I was a good boy and just stayed at home watching films.
My phones was dead all day yesterday, so I guess everybody else had a good time. I can imagine that there was a sharp rise in Aspirin sales around West london at some point yesterday.
Snakes on a plane was actually quite an entertaining film, I'd tell you all about it, but it'll only spoil the plot. Ha ha ha ha...falls off chair!!
No really, it's a proper gorefest, with some top one-liners.
What else? Oh yeah I watched The listening which is a top film and Festen which is way dark (but good) and Benchwarmers which is a pile of shite (no link, not worthy) and the new Prison Break (superb) and 4 episodes of the new Weeds (yeah I know it's only up to episode two, but I have 4 Ok!!) and then mixed a couple of tunes and cooked some food etc. etc. etc. blagh blagh blagh!!
Talking of shit film ideas , I really can't believe they've actually made this film, Oh dear, oh dear indeedy!!
The Swedish beauty is coming to stay the weekend again, so all good in the lurvin dept. She says shes taking me out for a meal in high heels Fri night ( Her, not fukin me! Before you all start!!) So I'm kinda looking forward to that.
Till then, I'm resting. I have some finishing touches to a couple of mixes I can do in the house while I await some vocals from T in NY.
I'm actually way suprised at my lack of drug taking of late, maybe I'm getting old?
Nah! Fuck that. I just can't really be bothered, and I know the consequences with a chest infection are kinda not worth the next morning of doom scenario.
Geotagging photos.. Interesting idea, but it would be way better if it worked with Google maps and not a Yahoo map as the Yahoo map thing shows the whole of London as like, one fukin street?? Honest I tried it all excited last night thinking I could map all my gigs to venues in London, hmm! Maybe not?
My mate Jimbo took these brilliant photos of The secret garden festival, you gotta love the drugs eh!!
Sooo, I'm sat in the house with a chest infection while the rest of the world gets on down at Nottinghill carnival. Boo hiss rah!!
I know if I go though, I'll just end up waking up tomorrow in all sort of trouble, so I guess I'm doing the right thing + I have a copy of Snakes on a plane to watch, so it's not all bad..
Boo hiss rahhhh!!
Also, talking about carnival, why do the BBC print the same shity "people dressed in fancy costumes" carnival pictures every fukin year? Don't you realise that about two streets away you have like 100,000 people getting it down in front of some of the best sound systems in the world, much much better photo opportunities. That to me is the real carnival. But you know this right?
Fridays gig was pretty good, well up until the point my mate J handed out the sillyness and it all went completely pair-shaped. I have some great photos but my camera is refusing to upload them to my computer??
Note to people about to purchase a Nikon Coolpix camera: Fukin don't bother, the build quality is complete shite!! I've had mine since Christmas and the thing has just fallen apart? First the battery compartment fell off, them the lens jammed and broke, now the USB is fucked. Not impressed Nikon, not impressed at all! I used to have a Canon EOS 1000f, and it lasted for ten years of touring the world with bands, while Nikons poxy effort hasn't even lasted 10 fukin month's? Cos it was a present, I don't have a receipt and Nikon just don't wanna know, I even got a quote to fix the lens that was actually more than the purchase price of a new camera. Nikon, sorry but your a shit company. And I won't buy from you again, cheap Japanese rubbish!!
Ok rant over.
On a plus note, the label is doing really well and the band I did at the V festival have asked me to work with them full time doing their live sound. They've just signed a new deal and have a new album coming out in Feb so there'll be shit loads of gigs next year. There's even talk of an Australian gig (Bondi Beach) on Christmas day...Oooooo!! Watch this space.
Ok, as promised, live from the V festival, Johnny Rockstar and How not to put a tent away!! (Yes I know it's on it's side, but imovie doesn't have a "turn it on it's other side" feature?)
Loose change, If you like conspiracy theories, you'll love this! All 1 1/2hours hours of it.
Right, I feel the need to mope around the house, with my bad chest!
The band were tight as a nats arse in rehersal last night, so I'm expecting a good gig tonight. JR's coming over soon and we're gonna put together a new intro for the band to come on stage to, you know, a few samples from films and politics 'n' stuff, and an ever-evolving low frequency droney pad thing, the kind of sound that makes the audience shit themselves and prepares you nicely to launch into a kickin set. Well see how it goes anyway!
Music music music music music... It just never fukin ends!
Oh well, better then packing chickens at an abbotior I guess!!
The truely stupendous Stanton Warriors are playing the equally stupendous Sancho Panza soundsystem 4.30 Sunday at Nottinghill Carnival (middle row) If your not there, you not all there man!!
"pop ya cork...squeeze on my tits!!!
Fuck your pony indie bands...This is where London's at!!
Sooo, from the BBC...38% will be obese by the end of the decade. Err, ok, if so, can you tell me where the fuck all these obese people are? Coz I can't fukin see 'em! The only large group of fat arses I ever come across is around lunchtime outside the BBC head offices in Shepherds Bush!!
Oh! I forgot Auntie Beeb, it's the silly season where you make all the sodding news up!
Oh, what do I care! Here have some links, while I go and get munted!!
I have no fukin idea why anybody would take the time and the effort to programme this , no idea...at all! They talk about restricting internet content in China so the Chinese can't view what's up in the Western World.
But... I'm really beginning to think it should be a two way street!!
Sooo. Thursday! Just put the Sweedy girl on the train home after 3 days of lounging around doing sod all and generally being taken advantage of (teehee!) I've had a bit of flu as well so it was nice to just stay in bed and get pampered. Needed the rest I guess.
No rest for the wicked though as it's all hands to the pump again. T's supposed to be coming over today to lay down some vocals, but I gather he had a hot date with some French Moroccan chick he met at the airport the other day (Ha...A Fremoccan, or a Morrocench?) Sooo I've gotta a feeling that he's gonna be off-line for the day, depending on how it all went. I kinda need the time to sort out my e-mail shit anyway.
Tonight I'm off to a rehearsal for a band I engineer. They're preparing for a gig tomorrow night in West London at a club that I haven't mixed in before, so I'm kinda looking forward to that. Always up for a challange.
Then...well then it's Nottinghill Carnival again on Sunday and Monday... Oh dear!
It just never fukin stops! There again, who's complaining..
The band fukin rocked both the V festivals, and I got to see Radiohead play from the pit (between the stage and the crowd) well I got to see half the gig as the security where being a militant pain in the fukin arse.. It was like, everytime we seemed to be having a bit of fun they'd do something to ruin it by moving us, or standing in a wall in front of us to make sure nobody got a good view, they wouldn't even let me use my fukin camera?? So no sodding pictures! Sorry Mr V festival people, but your security people are a bunch of wankers! Sort it out.
I nearly missed Radiohead, as I was standing waiting for them to come on and I say's to this guy " What time Radiohead on mate?" and he's like "Err ten minutes mate, but you want stage one, this is stage two!"
It looked like stage one?
Anyway, we all ran backstage and managed to commandeer one of those golf cart like festival buggies driven by the lovely Helen, who then zoomed us all up to stage one at a mind blowing ten miles per hour.... Still though, better than walking. You gotta love those production passes!
Anyway, half way through the gig we got so sick of the tosser security wankers, that we just gave in and went to find the beer tent instead.
Can't remember much after that, but I know we managed to (somehow?) Get back to the tour bus, as I woke up the next morning at the next V Festival?
Oh I do remember that we were all watching the guitarist JR trying to take his tent down and getting really flustered at it coz he was too pissed to even walk, never mind take his tent down. We were all watching this hillarious tent dismantling nonsence from the tour bus window accompanied by a soundtrack of Stevie Wonders "You are the sunshine of my life" I was in fits! We have it all recorded on R's phone, so I'm gonna upload it to youtube when I get the chance and post it on this blog. You gotta see this shit, it's well funny, especially the bit where he gives in, jumps on the tent and then it all collapses around him...Funny as!
Sooo, morning number two, festival number two.
"Right, everyone awake? Ok...here we go again!"
The second gig was easily the best and coz it was exactly the same set-up as the first gig and because I was using exactly the same digital mixing desk (which I usually hate), I just plugged my USB key into the side of the desk and it recalled yesterdays stage set-up and FOH mix!
Easy peezy, lemon squeezy!!
You gotta love technology!
That's not me mixing by the way!
Yeah, gig two rocked, the band kicked ass and the MC's did us all proud by managing to do a couple of tunes right out in the middle of the crowd. The place went off!!
Soo, gig over, back on the bus (complete with various new people we picked up on the way) and off to the Secret Garden Festival for another gig..
Secret Garden was chucking it down with fukin rain and resembled a bit of a mudfest!
But it cleared up by the time the band were on-stage.
Bit of a hippyfest Secret Garden really.
Also, the local council had put noise restrictions on all the main stages causing major headaches for anyone like me trying to engineer a band? I wish these local do-gooder council people would just like, fuck off sometimes!
Sooo. I'm mixing the band and this council tosser's stood there with his fukin sound level meter and he's like " You gotta turn it down son!" And I'm like "Fuck off mate, my clock radio's louder than that?" Then the bands manager comes over and he starts kicking off with the council bloke, and then all hell breaks loose in the mixing tower? Anyway, the council bloke leaves his sound level meter on top the mixing desk as he's being verbally laid into by the bands manager, soooo, I (of course) accidentally on purpose knock it off into a conveniently large, extra muddy puddle of rain water (with several people dancing in it) in front of the desk... Woops!
End of sound meter!
"Oh shit, errr sorry mate!"
All the time I'm nudging up the master volume of the mix for the band.
So, anyway the council bloke threatens to shut us down, then looks at the crowd rocking to the band and then decides it's probably not a good idea (coz he'd probably get linched by the angry mob) and just fucks off, tail between his legs..
So, as he's walking away, I slam the system full blast and the whole place goes off!!
Top! You gotta love that level of control.
This guy was funny, V festival security bloke after a long night.
Anyway, that was a mad couple of days, you just gotta love the festival season.
I have a few days off till Thursday and the beautiful Sweedy girl's coming to stay for a couple of days. She arrives tonight and we're gonna kick back and have some fun..
Soooo, here we go again. This one's a toughy cos there's sooo much shit about the music business that gets my back up. But...here goes nothin'!!
Warning: Post may require more than one sitting (+ a large bottle of JD and coke, and a box of soluble aspirin) !
Ais for A & R people: Ho Ho!! I could write a book on this fukin subject alone, but lets condense it a bit shall we for the sake of my own sodding sanity. Ok, for anyone who doesn't know, A & R stands for Artist and Repertoire , or Attitude and rejection,or Arsholes and Rejects or big twatting cunty cocksucking son of a bitch,!! Depending on how you look at it.
The A & R person is the person that stands between you and the golden lambchop that is the fame and fortune game. Call them a sort of record company talent scout (funny that!), they're supposed to sign acts (bands/musicians/singers/good fukin blowjobs) and turn them into marketable products for all to enjoy. Madonna has one, Britney has one, Massive attack has one, the Cheeky girls had one. The A & R man goes to gigs or listens to demo tapes or knows a wide circle of friends who tell him/her what's hot or not ( haaa haa, you think!!) . They're the eyes and ears of the music biz. And...are therefore in control of the complete shite that you get to hear on the Radio or TV or buy from the HMV 10p bucket of fukin sin!
Or are they?
From my experience an A & R person is usually a nice, clueless, middleclass, up his/her own arse, "I'm trendier and more knowledgeable then I think I am" wombat, cunt, twatty, failed musician, narcissistic little prick, arsehole, career ending, money grabbing, fukin, bandwagon jumping, wouldn't know a good record if it exploded in his/her arse, "Oh! look at me, I work for a record company ooooooh!!", lazy, interfering, can you please stop dressing like a 12 year old? Pain in the arse fucking doughnut, pony, poor excuse for a human being, curious, impertinent, intrusive, meddlesome, meddling, nebby, obtrusive, officious, prying, pushy, snoopy, debauched, decadent, degraded, demeaned, depraved, deteriorated, dissolute, effete, failing, fallen, flagitious, immoral, infamous, low, mean, miscreant, nefarious, overripe, perverted, retrograde, retrogressive, rotten, sinking, villainous, wicked, worsening, stirring little cunt!!
And then some!!
In other words: a very nice dude-like god, and worthy of every minute of your inferior attention.
Example of true A & R person stupidity: He came into the studio not liking a perfectly good mix of a tune we were doing, so we sat him down in front of the mixing desk and gave him a mix channel (that, by the way, did fuck all) to play with. After an hour of him playing ( with the channel that did fuck all on the mixing desk) he proclaimed " That's it! That's the mix! Right there, it's a hit!!"
And then credited himself on the record as an assistant engineer?
Ha ha haaaa ha ha haaaaaa ha ah ah ah ah aaaahhhh aaahh h haa h ah ahhh ahaha!!!!
Falls off chair laughing!
Oh! I'm sorry...that's just too much!
Funny thing is mate, I know who you are, and who you fukin work for!!
And you still go on about, how, if it wasn't for you, that tune would never have been the hit it was??
You Fucking uber-idiot!!!
I've been dying to write that for fukin years!
Ahhh big deep breath....
B is for [industry] Bullshit: bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit !!! Too fukin much of it, sort it out!
C is for [Artist/label] legal contracts: We [the record label] hearby contract you [the artist] to sign this [bullshit but perfectly legal] contract full of technical legal loopholes, un-readable goobledegook jargon document that makes War and Peace look like Peter and Jane 1B, in favour of us [the label] , which you [the artist] could never ever possibly understand in a million fukin years so that we [the label] will have you [the artist] by the short and curlies, therefore leaving us [the label] fukin minted and you [the artist] up shit creek without a musical paddle while we [the label] fukin have it on a vast expense account down the pub with the local coke dealer as funded by you [the daft cunt artist]... Thanks!
And that's for starters!
This is part of a contract I received the other day as regards to a Digital distribution rights company in the States. This is section 11 (A, B and C) of 51 sections. All the other sections have the companies name plastered over them and I can't be arsed to edit them all out. So you get this bit for legal reasons.
Note: this is the tame shit!
Read it and weep:
SECTION 11. INDEMNITY
(a) Mutual Indemnification. Each party (an “Indemnifying Party”) will indemnify, defend, and hold harmless the other party, its parents, subsidiaries, affiliates, and their respective directors, officers, employees, and agents (an “Indemnified Party”), with respect to any claim, demand, cause of action, or debt or liability brought by or claimed by any third party, including reasonable outside attorneys’ fees (collectively “Claims”), to the extent that any such Claim is based upon or arises out of a breach of any of the Indemnifying Party’s representations, warranties, covenants, or obligations hereunder. The foregoing indemnity will be applicable only to such Claims as have been reduced to final non-appealable judgment or settled with the consent of the Indemnifying Party (such consent not to be unreasonably withheld or delayed).
(b) Indemnification Notice. In claiming any indemnification hereunder, the Indemnified Party will promptly provide the Indemnifying Party with written Legal Notice of any Claim which the then Indemnified Party believes falls within the scope of this Section 11; provided, that the failure to promptly notify the Indemnifying Party will not affect the Indemnified Party’s right to indemnification if such delay did not materially prejudice the defense of such Claim. The Indemnified Party may, at its own expense, assist and participate in the defense if it so chooses, provided that the Indemnifying Party will control such defense and all negotiations relative to the settlement of any such claim and further provided that any settlement intended to bind the Indemnified Party may not be entered into without the Indemnified Party’s prior written consent, which will not be unreasonably withheld or delayed.
(c) Limitation of Damages. UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES AND UNDER NO LEGAL THEORY, WHETHER IN TORT, CONTRACT, OR OTHERWISE, INCLUDING UNDER THIS SECTION 11, WILL EITHER PARTY BE LIABLE TO THE OTHER PARTY FOR ANY INDIRECT, SPECIAL, INCIDENTAL, PUNITIVE OR CONSEQUENTIAL DAMAGES OF ANY CHARACTER, INCLUDING DAMAGES FOR LOSS OF GOODWILL, LOSS OF ANTICIPATED PROFITS, LOSS OF REVENUE, WORK STOPPAGE, COMPUTER FAILURE OR MALFUNCTION, INTERRUPTION OF SERVICE, DOWNTIME COSTS, LOSS OF USE OF EQUIPMENT, FACILITIES OR SERVICES, LOST PRODUCTION, LOST DATA OR USE, INCURRED BY THE OTHER PARTY OR ANY THIRD PARTY REGARDLESS OF WHETHER ANY REMEDY SET FORTH HEREIN FAILS OF ITS ESSENTIAL PURPOSE. THE LIMITATIONS APPLY TO ALL CAUSES OF ACTION, INCLUDING, WITHOUT LIMIATION, WHETHER SUCH LIABILITY IS ASSERTED ON THE BASIS OF CONTRACT, TORT (INCLUDING NEGLIGENCE OR STRICT LIABILITY) OR OTHERWISE, EVEN IF THE PARTY WILL HAVE BEEN INFORMED OR ADVISED OF THE POSSIBILITY OF ANY SUCH LOSSES OR DAMAGES.
I told them to come back to me with a 4 page (you get to digitally distribute our products in the States and the States only, and then you get 20% of that income and if you don't, we walk!) contract. Did they get back to me? Did they fuck. Why? Because their contract had "We will fuck you up the arse at the first opportunity we get" written all fukin over it. And you know what? I didn't get an expensive coke habit coz I'm stupid. I got one because I can see through that kind of bullshit!
I could've taken it to my Lawers to check it all out, but that would have resulted in flushing the 80% down the toilet in Lawyer Ping-Pong fees ( See L: Music Lawyers)
Life's too damn short!
If you work for me and get results, you stay. If not, I don't hang around. End of!
Watch you back in Musictown people, watch it real fukin close!
Unless you like epic Ping Pong battles ( see L: Music lawyers)
D is for divas [who can't sing] : Sooo every now and again ( not so much nowadays coz I get a demo tape from singers first, no effects please, just an accapella) you get a big diva singer who turns up in the studio to do a track. They look the part, act the part, smell the part and have a huge (seemingly) track record of stuff they've done in the past. "Great" you say. Let's have it! Ok, you tell them the score, turn on the cans (headphones), play the track and say " Let it rip!"
Then they open their mouths?
"Oh, I'm sorry, before we start, would you mind just kicking that parrot with a cat stuck up it's arse out of the vocal booth please? "
Oh! it's you?
Help, I've landed up guitar creek without a sodding plectrum!!!
"They'll be better when they warm up," You tell (kid) yourself.
Two hours later and the microphone has gone on strike due to bad working conditions.
Your fucked for the whole day, but you have to record it all anyway.
And don't even talk about doing the fukin harmonies??
There's just no way you can get out of it coz the Divas manager sitting in the corner of the studio is a crack smoking Yardie machine gun expert, so you just do the job hoping that they'll eventually get bored and go away.
But...no chance matey boy. No sooner have you finished the session and gone to the pub via the dealers (just to take the edge off) then the phone starts ringing and the manager is giving you the whole " Yeah I'm gonna sell the track to the States, It'll be huge" Bit!
Yeah a huge fukin flop?
You find that your perfectly good backing track has been hijacked and no longer belongs to you?
These calls can literally go on for weeks till the manager gets another "Big break," and you get forgotten about and sidelined...
I don't know were we find these people, we just do! It's usually when were pissed down the pub or something.
"Oh! I know a singer!"
E is for Ego: This industry is full of me me me me me me me people. Children, especially bands on the verge of fame (see below). Oh! You broke a guitar string did you! Alright, no need to run off in the middle of a gig taking all the shared amps with you so nobody else can play? Tossers.
F is for Fame: Everybody want's it but few can handle it. I've had my little 15mins and it fukin sucked. That's why nowadays I take a back seat and produce instead. There's actually nothing up there, it's all thin branches, some sticky stuff and the odd crawly bitey ant thing, believe me. The view from up there is shit as well. And when you fall down (and you will), it can get really really fukin ruff. Fame, my angle, let your products get famous, not yourself. Trust me, Fame is lame!
G is for Gattling gun: Ooops! Wrong A to Z. I fukin need one sometimes in this industry though!
H is for HMV [10p bin of sin]: Where the industry puts you when you can no longer sell records. A dark bottomless pit of doom. Many an Artist has left their bloody nail marks on the walls as they tried to climb out of the HMV 10p bin of sin, From there on in the only way up is being selected for K-tel compilations. Life in the fast lane...without a fukin car! Pass the JD for fuck's sake. Wadda mean it's running out? Fuuuuckkkk!
H is also for Hotel rooms: Wanna be in a band? Then be prepared to look at an awful lot of Hotel room walls. They're fukin horrible places. The dream of them being filled with hot chicks having filthy lesbian sex as you snort cocaine off their arses happens maybe once in a blue moon, but, for the rest of your time, you're by yourself, missing your mates with a gram of coke and a bottle of JD thinking "Why the fuck don't I just pack it all in and get a nice wife and an office job?" Then there's a knock at the door? And it all goes tits up (literally) ! Woohoo! Actually on second thoughts, I kinda like hotel rooms!
I is for industry [music, commercial, general] : Hmmm!
J is for John Peel [dying]: There is no god! (actually there was, but now he's dead)
L is for Lawyers [Music Business (actually fukin all of them)]: So the great game of Music lawyer ping-pong starts by changing one word in the contract and faxing it to your opponent, who then returns the serve with a new clause volley, woah! It returns with a "not happy about this get out sub-text bit" spin ball, and returns with a great over the top " no, it's staying in the contract mate" lob. And off it flies for one point. Oh ! Look at that? Nobody's moving to pick the ball up. Stalemate? New balls, that's it, well done. And...off we go for another 30 rounds.
And in the meantime the ping pong marathon that you're sponsoring is costing you tens of thousand of your fukin pounds. The most expensive game in the universe this one, with no fukin opt-out clause (actually you can, but it'll cost you three rounds, a new net and a lot of fukin extra balls!)
Who are these people? And who the fuck said they can charge as much wonga as they do!
One for Scooby Doo and the Mystery Machine methinks!!
M is for Money: Money Money Money, must be funny, in the music biz. When it's good, it's stupendous, but when it's not...Ouch! Suffer for your art, no fukin shit you do!
N is for Nelly Fertwango: Piss off eh!
O is for Oh fuck! [this is turning into a huge fukin post?]
P is for Peer to Peer file sharing [industry whinging about]: I think it's great, a lot of my mates think it's great and we're the one making the fukin music, so what exactly is your fukin problem with it? You're all just big rich fat fukin dinosaurs who can't embrace the technology, that's what?
Oh yeah, and suing 12 year old Molly Brown's parents cos she downloaded a bit of Kylie from Queer-Peer.com? Come on, that's just a bit fukin low! Ok hands up Mr Music business people...
Which of you didn't used to record on cassette tape the chart rundowns from the radio as a kid?
You at the back, What's your hand up for? Oh! You didn't have a cassette recorder coz your dad was in Belmarsh Prison for stealing TV's! Ok, that's fair enough. You can sit down!
Now the rest of you: 5000's lines on the subject of "Why I'm being such a fukin pathetic dickhead raving on about fuck all!"
Come on then!
Q is for Q magazine [Knowing fuck all on the subject of music and pretending to be a world authority] : Just stop it ok! Your top 100 albums of all time. Pink Floyds "The wall" goes below Coldplays " A rush of blood to the nickers" Errmm, I don't think so batman, I don't think so at all. Have you even heard "The Wall" ? Probably, once, when you were stoned round Daves house that time!! No No No " The Wall" is a seminal masterpiece of music production and as a concept album project, I would go as far to say it's never been topped: ever!! Maybe by "Dark side of the Moon"( another Pink Floyd album) but that's highly debatable (but not by you lot thanks! ) and " A Rush of blood to the bra" is a very nice album with a few really good tunes on it,but, no real overall concept and a lot of Pink Floyd and Radio Head like production which compared to the real deal gets left standing at the starting blocks like it was that kid from school with the bad asthma!
You're obviously using the wrong speakers or something!
To conclude:Q magazine wouldn't know a good album if it sliced them in half frisbee style, and then glued 'em back together with some fukin common sense paste!
R is for Radio airplay [manipulation of] : Who the fuck is playlisting the morning radio shows? They seriously need to be fukin shot. I used to love morning radio. What the fuck happpened? Oh! You discovered back-handers! Oh! Now I see (said the blind man!!)
S is for Simon Cowell (and friends) : Well, what can you say about this man eh! How about the fact that you and a few other twats like you managed to turn the music business on it's head, shake the money out of it's pockets and then ceremoniously fuck it right up the arse in one fell swoop. And then some!! Mate...you (and your fukin cronies) manipulated pop music into a paint by numbers, chicken in a basket (the lowest common denominator of shite tasteless food), souless, shitfest of bland, rubbish, appallingly disposable bad music??
Designed to satisfy your daily intake of musical salt, and nothing else!
We met at Nottinghill Carnival once, at my mates exclusive party. I was the geezer that laid into you about having no fucking right to be there! Scouting ideas so you could then plagerize our "Fukinscene mate??" Turns out it wasn't you, but somebody who claimed to be the spitting image of you? We still had our doubts though and had you chucked out anyway! Ha!
What you did was one of the greatest public music frauds of all time, and all to line your own greedy pockets! And the fukin public just lapped it up? Luckily the industry is starting to recover thanks to the open media of the internet and stuff like Myspace. But, for a long time I nearly gave up all hope as all the gutless major record labels would sign was your particular brand of cheap meaningless toss! I can safely say that what you helped create, will go down in history as the worst time for musical evolution post 9th century.... At least PWL (Stock Aitken and Waterman) created something new. You just plagerised a whole fukin industry with bad cover versions and talent [less] competitions?? Don't even think about calling yourself an industry leader mate, cos you never have and never will have created by the time you snuff it and go to the great Jukebox in the sky (which, by the way, there seemingly not gonna let you in) a great pop record. And that's what it's surely all about....
Hope your enjoying your money kid? You fukin earned it!
Oh! And what gives you the..... Bollocks, enough already!
T is for Top of the Pops [lack of]: It was fun, it was current, it was trendy, it was happening and you got on it coz you were good and not coz you slipped the director a humongous back-hander? So why the fuck did the BBC change the format and the time and therefore kill it stone dead? Yeah it had run it's course, but only in it's present day form? I give in! Total mystery. Like Scooby doo!
U is for useless fukin people: Music biz? Fukin far too many of 'em live here!
V is for Venessa Mae: Pop chart Oriental fiddler to the stars. Oh dear! Who the fuck thought of that one. Come on, own up! What's that? Oh it was you Simon, thought so mate! Wanker!
W is for wankers: See below.
X is for X-factor: See Simon fukin Cowell! (again!)
Y is for Yippee: I finally finished this shit, it's 5am, can I go to bed now please?
Today I'm having a day off coz a huge weeekend lies ahead and I have a day of rehearsals tomorrow with the band for the upcoming gigs. They've a couple of new tracks I haven't heard yet, so I'm looking forward to that!
What's new? Oh yeah revisted friends re-united today, got bored after two minutes, signed off. I had a bit of a horror story with that shit about five years ago. An ex girlfriend got in touch to try and re-kindle what we never had in the first place. Sooo I ended it...again! She then spat her dummy out (for the second time) and somehow managed to hack my email account, forwarding all my e-mails to my sister with the Headline "Your Brothers Life!!" Well, you can imagine the shit that was contained within those emails!! I fukin exploded, my sister fukin imploded and the girl moved to Saudi Arabia to work as a nurse... Mate, you've got some serious explaining to do if you ever return to this country. The spy's are out in my hometown kiddo!!
In the Top Ten of people who have fucked me up the arse, you're at number 8 mate... Nuff said!
Be warned...Friends reunited!! Hmmm!
They wanna rename it, Demons-from-the-past.con (sic)
Ok. Tomorrow I'm gonna leave you all for the weekend with my A to Z of stuff that pisses me right off about the music business..
Warning!! It's a huge fukin post, took me about a week (hour here, hour there) to write the sodding thing. It kinda lays into a lot of stuff, so you have been pre-warned!!
Sweedy girls coming to see me on Monday evening to stay for a couple of days, so I don't think I'll be posting till Thursday. But..If I'm not too fucked on Monday, I'll write about the weekend, coz I'm sure there will be tales to tell??
This is an interesting read, exploring the thought of: Is it actually possible to make a compound explosive from binary chemicals in the bathroom of a plane? Me and my sis were talking on the phone about it the other day coz she's a Chemistry Phd, and she said it would be virtually impossible to achieve too, so I had my doubts about this one and it kinda spells it all out.
Robotoss!! Guaranteed to put the shits up your cat, or your money back!! Mind you it does sell in Europe for $60 (funny that! I've Never heard of the Eurodollar?) yours for only $10 (+ $7.50 postage. Oh and an extra $19.99 if you wanna keep the fukin thing?)
The only museum of it's kind in the world! (I'm thinking that there's a good fukin reason for that mate!)
Sooo! Today I'm jumping up and down like a rabid Kangaroo on Crystal Meth!
I'm off on a miny tour this weekend doing FOH (front of house) sound for one of the bands I do now and again. The first two stops are both the V festivals. one after another. And then Im off to the Secret Garden party festival. with another band I do.
But! And this is a huge butt (just like my American ex's) I've just realised that fuckin Radiohead are playing both the V festivals as well, and in the same order as we are!!
And..Guess who's gonna have an AAA (access all areas) pass for the main stage!! And therefore, guess who's gonna sit on the side of the fukin stage on the first night, and in the Mixing tower on the second night to watch them play..
Sooo. I missed Mr Weinstein turning up for the Smeg fridge-freezer, but the landlady said it was hillarious. Seemingly this guy was not a happy bunny at all, as obviously the thing was stood there unwrapped, installed and full of dodgy polish people food. Oh and it also had a huge scratch down the side of it. He nearly called the police, but the landlady stopped him with some: "Well you should make sure they had the right bloody address in the first place?" Spiel!
I was kinda wrestling with the idea of giving the fridge up myself before the Dodgy Polish people made my mind up for me. I had this niggling little feeling that eventually it would've come on top. So now I have a clear conscience (Seemingly!). When I called the guy up he was sooo relieved coz the delivery company we're pleading innocent and were saying "Well we've delivered it mate?" He was kinda thinking that it had been nicked from his porch. Sooo all's well that ends well...Unless your a dodgy Polish twat of course!!
I've also just remembered that I had a phone upgrade due to be delivered last week, and I swear, if it's gone walkies, I'm seriously gonna lay the guy out. It's becoming beyond a joke. I've never known anything like it. They just take what they find!
At least I ask first...
Anyway. I've just had an hour long business meeting with the bank business manageress (nice tits...very pert!) for the label and this birds banging on about VAT and Sage accounting software and marketing plan software and tax and Business plans and fukin this and that and the other? Jeez louise! I just wanna place to stick the fukin cheques, which by the way, they charge you to do???
Gawd allmighty. I just need the Royal bank of fukin Normal shit!
Or maybe that is the normal shit?
Kinda mad though, all this software links together with the Bank and the Distribution company and the pressing plants and the publishing company and itunes and all that other shit. So you always know what the fuck's going on. But...so does the fukin taxman?
I know you have to pay tax, but I hate thinking that in someway I'm funding their private fukin death machine. It makes me kinda sad! I have no problem with paying for education or welfare or the NHS or the Rozers or other stuff like that, but I so wish you had an 'Opt out of giving to the overseas war and doom machine' Tick box!
Fair enough if we were actually defending the country from a true threat, but, we're just off on a modern day Crusade slaughtering innocents for no good fukin reason?
Your just digging a fukin huge hate hole, and I want no part in it.
I've said it before, I just wanna drink Beer, shag birds and make music!
Tony Blair...you need to go mate!
Offshore accounting anyone!
Ok. If you ain't seen the movie 'Why we fight' Then I strongly recommend it. It's a fine example of just how fucked up the world we live in really is. The anatomy of the American war machine? For fuck's sake, it's just sodding wrong!
Mr Weinsteins on his way to pick it up as I write.
He knows the address and flat number, but not that they've installed it.
Sooo, explain that one you teefing Polish cunts? (That'll teach you to steal my fukin Christmas presents.)
Anyway, I can't rip the carpet up, and it was the landlady's mistake, so I get to keep the carpet.
Ok...which kinda leads me on to this:
Ten things I know about carpet laying today, but didn't know yesterday 101.
It's more complex than you think.
If (like me) you lay carpet in your shorts, you will take all the skin off you knees. I guess that's why carpeteers (don't, I made it up!) wear kneepads. And all these years I thought they were all going down the local skatepark after knocking off? Well you bugger!
Use a fukin tape measure.
And a marker!
The stuff you find under toilet carpets is a force to be reckoned with! Talk about undiscovered ecosystems...ughggh!
Carpet is cool.
After slipping with a stanley knife, don't fukin bleed on cream carpet.
Carpet laying people charge stupid money for a good reason.
I have no idea what some tools are for. Even though they all look good in the shop?
Really fukin important this one: When laying carpet over cables, make sure the cables don't belong to the fukin vacuum cleaner? It's a great time saver!
And that's about the size of that.
New carpet, new day.
I'm now going to demolish a king size 1.5 litre bottle of JD that I borrowed from the club last night and watch a film!
Why some people shouldn't make dance music (although it is funny!)
Finally, I'm totally with Thom's views on Blair here. I'm trying not to become political again on this blog coz I'm a little scared of what's coming in the near future! Nuff said. (worth it for the beautiful Harrowdown Hill video)
Sooo, I've just about recovered from my four days of Champagne breakfasts, walks along the river, days spent in Pub beer gardens and very long lie-ins with the Swedish sweetie. She's coming back to London at the end of the month.
Joy of joys!
I'm kinda smitten..
Sooo fukin cute:
Anyway, back in the studio today finishing off a couple of mixes for the label, all done, all good.
Funny, one of my label partners has just come back from Dj'ing in China where one of our Breakbeat choons is kicking off in the clubs out there. Soo the Chinese being, well all things Chinese, have decided it would be a good idea to take the British rapper off the record and re-vocal it with a Chinese geezer! This I gotta hear... I'm all for the idea though as the Chinese market is massive, and (hopefully) the version will never make it back to our shores and embarrass the fuck out of us all...
Not really ready to write about what went on in the last few days...
can't get me head around just how nice it was..
Instead I'll leave you all with this:
The complete A to Z part two: Stuff wot pisses me off about London
A is for Aussies [the]: Sodding millions of em. Everywhere? You don't like us, we don't like you (although there are exceptions, sorry HG) so go the fuck home to crimland, where we sent you all in the first place!
B is for Blair: as in Tony fukin Blair. Nuff said really!
C is for cab: Never fall asleep in the back of a minicab, as you're guaranteed to wake at some destination on the other side of the world and nowhere sodding near your home! " I said Portobello road, not fukin Putney you fukin idiot" Learn to speak English you muppets. It's kinda a prerequisite to living here you know!! Damn it!
C is also for: Chelsea tracktors or SUV's as the rest of the world likes to call them. No, really what's the fukin point? " It keeps the kids safe!" From what, tons of fukin smog?? I suppose you can always go off-road in the outback that is Kensington fukin High Street? They're wrong, and stupid, so stop it! And don't get me started on the new Hummer Craze? I know! Just buy a fukin Sherman Tank or a pertrol tanker why don't you! Doughnuts!!
C is also for Chuggers (charity muggers): Getting down Convent Garden, or Holborn ,or Oxford street or in fact any major pedestrian thoroughfare in London without one of these (usually Aussie/Kiwi/Spanish/French/Crusty [delete as applicable] ) twats getting in your way so they can sign you up for Greenpeace/Cancer Research/Rainbows for rabbits/Friends of the pigmy llamma lesser spotted Astronaut Hamster etc. is like trying to take a shit on the sun in mid-summer without any solar fukin bog roll? "Can you stop for a chat?" Nooooo! "can you fuck off and die please?" Yeesssss!
D is for Dogs [in handbags]: Ok, please just stop it, it looks stupid, you look stupid, it's not hip or trendy or cool. Just like, leave it out!
E is for Estate agents: You wanna know why the house prices are so bloody high in London, that's you answer right there. These little twats just make the prices up on the fukin spot. I'm sure of it, and in turn, everything else (apart from the wages) goes through the roof. Estate agents should be employed and regulated by the government, it would sort half of Londoners problems out in one fell swoop! Then we could all be moderately happy.
F is for ?
G is for Graffiti: Well not Graffiti as such, but tagging. It's everywhere and it looks shit. You (the culprits) must know this right...RIGHT?
H is for Harlesden: Oh dear, oh dear indeedy!
I is for illegal immigrants: Yeah, I know London is supposed to be cozmopolitan but....
J is for Jellied eels: Uhhhrggghh!
K is for Kilburn [High street]: What the fuck is that about eh!
L is for Local Councils: Thieving, greedy, waste of time agency's of gloom. Clean the fukin streets properly, instead of spending all the money on wheelclamps. You twats!!
M is for Mockney accents: Just fuck off geezzzeer...Allwight mate!!
M is also for Maida vale: Used to be lovely, but now it's full of fukin Aussies, Estate agents and IT workers?
N is for the Northern line: Just rip it up and start again or something?
O is for Oxford Street: Dirty, Smelly, horrible, expensive! If this is Englands premier shopping experience; then gawd help the rest of the country coz it's shite!! Sort it out.
P is for Pigeons: Fukin millions of the little sodding grey vermin (cream in Richmond, no shit). Just shoot the buggers! And stop bloody feeding em?
Q is for Queues: I swear I spent half my life fukin queuing for stuff. Not happy about it, at all!
R is for Rubbish: It's everywhere, the West end is the worst by far. Come on councils, clean the shit up, it's not like we are all not paying you through the nose in taxes?
R is also for Ringtones: Please, a phone is supposed to ring, and not make me shit myself on the bus with a 130db version of The fukin Birdy song or 30 secs of Remember your'e a sodding Womble (I'm not, and never was?) It's just not funny, Stop...now!! Don't get me started on MP3 phones with built in Speakers. Oh yeah! I really wanna listen to your pony tin-o-sonics version of the Sugarbreasts new album on the fukin tube after a big night out? Why not, it just fine by me. Tell you what, why don't we all get one and have a tin-o-sonic dawn chorus of the new Thrustin Timbertwat single "Tearing out My Heart (and stuffing it sideways up my arse)" in Hyde fukin park!
S is for Supermarket: Nothing fukin 'Super' about London's Supermarkets. Dear Mr Sainsbury, can I please buy some vegetables in single units (what I can do with six fukin leaks or half a dozen bloody peppers is beyond me) and, I would like them to not be rotten half an hour after getting the friggin things home? Also can you not stock the shelves in office hours, I wanna buy food, not go on a assault course SAS mission just to get to the fukin cous cous??? And don't get me started on the cost of a weekly fukin food shop? You charge us for food with less salt, and food with less fat?? And if anything is found out to be remotely healthy, you take that to mean putting the price through the fukin roof eg: Blueberries £2 for like, 40? If that's the case then there must be some farmers in Poland absolutely rolling in it. No! Thought not. It's not even funny, it's just plain extortion. Bunch of sodding thieves!
T is for Traffic Wardens: Although I no longer run a car in London ( waste of time, public transports like, a million times faster) These little money grabing, no reasoning with, paramilitary, ambushing, Nigerian cocksuckers still piss me right the fuck off! You can see em hiding in the bushes ready to spring at the nearest unsuspecting motorist just because he/she stopped to post a letter/say hello to friends/broke down/stopped to buy a newspaper and a doughnut/picked up a mate/fell down a broken sewer/ etc. etc. etc. ( Like the time I ran up stairs to get my hire car agreement and returned to a clamped car in what was all of maybe 5 minutes?) Stop it! Your all fukin vermin and need to die!! Fuck off home with the pidgeons and leave us allone to get on with our daily lives.
U is for Underground (as in tube): 70% of the time the tubes are OK, smelly, but generally they do the job. But... Just when you have that all important meeting/lunch/blowjob to get to, you get the dreaded" We're sorry for the delay, a mouse fell off the platform at kings cross and needs urgent medical attention" or " We're sorry for the delay, but a power failure in New Zealand has temporarly interrupted our services" Then, as if by magic, the whole system grinds to a fukin halt, usually in mid-summer and usually when your stood next to a commuter with epic body odour problems. Then you wait and wait, and get pissed off and wait more and get pissed off some more? Eventually though you get the hiss-clank sound, then the train moves, and you know you're gonna arrive at your destination a complete fukin nervous shambolic wreck.... And don't get me started on the lack of fukin air-con, or the price of a bloody journey. Or the lack of fukin bins?
V is for virmin: pigeons, rats, cockroaches, traffic wardens, local councilors, chuggers etc. etc. etc. All die! W is for Wembley Stadium: Just finish the bloody thing. It's an embarrassment to the whole sodding Nation. What's that you said? Oh! It's an Aussie firm with the building contract? Kinda makes sense then doesn't it!
X is for Xian: (Capital of ancient Chinese empire 221-206 BC) Ok...you bloody think of one then? Smartypants!
Y is for Youths: London Youths are a bunch of rude, mannerless, disrespekful (sic) bunch of little twats. Just cos your small doesn't mean I won't twat you if you mess!
Z is for Zebra crossing etiquete: If I stand on one to cross, you fukin stop! It's the law, or don't you fukin know that? Pants head!
And that's about the size of that, I'm sure there's loads more ( feel free to add you own in the comments section ) but, I'm done...Ta!
Ok, sooo the road where I live has a road with exactly the same name but a slightly different postcode about half a mile away. Now, the postman and delivery people all know this, but couriers from different countries don't. I've been delivered stuff before from say an American carrier such as UPS or a French courier such as FroggyExpress or a whatever courier, when it should have gone to the other address.
Of course I've always put it to one side, but, it's never been picked up by it's rightfull owners.
One day I'll get around to dropping the stuff off, but it's a difficult road to get to unless you use a cab, and to be honest I just don't have the time/can't be arsed.
Alrighty. Soooo I get a knock on the door at about 9 this morning and it's some unkown courier guy from a company I've never heard of and he's like: "Delivery for Mr Weinstein," and I'm like: "I'm not Mr Weinstein mate?"
Anyway before I know it, he's rattled off my address said some other shit about delivering to the right address, said that he's "Not taking it back now sonny!" and wheeled in a huge custom made Smeg Fridge like this one:
Then he's just disappeared...as if by magic?
And...without me even signing for the fukin thing??
Sooo, now it sits in my hallway?
In all it's silver spaceship like fridgen/freezerness saying: "Install me, I need love!!"
And I'm thinking: "Yes, I really could love you, and so could my groceries...and my kitchen colour sheme!"
Ho-hum, what to do?
Can you see where I'm going with this?
I'm not being funny, but coz I didn't sign anything, I'm sorely tempted to just ride this one out for a month or so and if there's no backlash, Just keep the damn thing!
I mean they gave it to me, so It's not like I'm teafing it. Am I?
Anyway, in the meantime, I'm just gonna let it sit here for a while, in the hallway!
I'm very sorry Mr Weinstein, but I've been in the music business for a lot years and you lot have taken me to the cleaners on several occasions (not an antisemetic statement in any way. Just the truth!)
Soooo...it's about time you lot bought me a shiny new sodding Fidge/freezer!!
Sooo fukin dishonestly... Your honor.
Don't worry, I'll trace the owner!
Ok, tonight I have the club to run and then tomorrow or Sunday (not sure yet) Sweedy girls coming to stay, till Tues I think.
So don't expect any posts till then,
Coz there ain't gonna be any.
Oh and for anybody who's wondering, my fingers ok, but a bit sore with a big chunk missing from yesterdays razor blade incident!
Why you should always listen to your own instincts 101:
Sooo I'm in the studio about an hour ago and the clients late, so I decide to clean up a few spaghettied leads on the floor. Ok, I'm trundling along and I see a razor blade on the floor and the 'me' conversation sorta goes like this:
Umm razor blade, chuck it away or keep it? Chuck it away. Ok, in the bag? Yeah in the bag. But what if I forget about and cut myself? Nah, what are the chances, anyway just put it right in the bottom, you won't forget. But...what if the bin man cuts himself? Fuck the bin man, just chuck the fukin thing away, in the fukin bag!! Jeez your mad as a fish sometimes...
La la la, more leads to unravel, stuff to do, choons to mix. Where's this fukin client? Oh mate, that leads a bit fucked. Chuck it in the bag mate.
Errrrrr, can't reach....That's it
Fukin stupid razor blade, right through the side of my sodding finger!!
Sooo, I managed to stop the bleeding after about half an hour. It's all taped up with a bit of bog roll and some gaffa tape.
I'll assess the damage in a little while.
But you know when you just know it's bad?
It is! And I'm just procrastinating.
Difficult to type with all this excess bagage on it...
One day right, I'll actually take the time to listen to myself a bit more.
Oh gotta go, it starting to piss blood again!!
The rest is from an earlier posting:
My gawd, I haven't seen one of these things for years. We used to call them scamper beasts, and when I was an apprentice draughtsmen many many years ago I got the sack for leaving one under the drawing office managers cup of tea. It was actually my co-workers plan, but he was the bosses son and I took all the blame. It ruined about 20 of his drawings (maybe three months work) as he chucked his tea in the air to get away thinking it was some flying whateverthefuck! Ha Ha! I'd forgotten all about it until now. Funny really, after I got fired from that job I then decided to go on tour with my rave act: Soooo, you could put my whole music career down to that one defining moment.
Ok, I just had to blog this, as it's utter shite. From the BBC today: Q magazines list of uncool records it is okay to love. Err, what the fuck is that about? And who the fuck are Q magazine in the grand scheme of people who know anything about music anyway? Drivel!
Oh yeah, you're that magazine who put Coldplays 'A rush of blood to the arsehole' in front of Pink Floyds 'The wall', in your top 100 albums of all time as voted by your [selves] readers?
Haa ha ha heee haaa heee deee haaa !!
I've never heard anything soooo crap in all my life.
Note to Q magazine: 10cc 'I'm not in love' is not uncool. In fact it's regarded by the vast majority of record producers as a bench mark in the grand scheme of 'Records that pushed the envelope of music production'. You lot have no fukin idea.
I tell you what, why don't you all pack in magazine Journalism and return to the Estate agent trade where you all fukin belong!
Lads mags eh, who needs em?
I'm not in the studio till tomorrow, so today I'm scrubbing my kitchen from top to bottom. Joy of fukin joys! Rubber glove sex anyone? I've re-sealed all the worktops and I'm just waiting for it all to dry. I'm sooo overjoyed I could shit bricks and dance round the house like a morris dancer: with bells and sticks and everything!
I hate fukin cleaning!
Nevermind. Oh and just to give Q magazine a big ole fuck you in the ass, I'm listening to ELO's greatest hits, full blast! Oh I'm soooo sodding uncool that I need coolness therapy from the Q-be-cool-be-shrink.
Deep breath, in...out...in...out...
There's something strickingly beautiful about these flight maps, I could kinda watch them all day. Shame the vids so short though.
Also, I just don't get this, a bullied city worker is paid £800,000 in a court case for a bit of name calling? Yet a victim of the 7/7 bombings who lost both legs, one eye and his spleen got £118,332. There's something very very wrong with the fukin world we live in today??