Shaman of the bass. From PIL to Primal Scream. The Legend Lives On... Jah Wobble In "Betrayal". Do you remember last night I sat down and you got up? I do. Sessions with Holger Czukay and Jaki Liebezeit, some fraction of Can lose themselves inna haunted dancehall. I feel just like Bogey... in Casablanca! Fly the Bomba (Nonsonicus Maximus), sailing Higher Than The Sun (A Sub Symphony In Two Parts)... Weatherall and The Invaders Of The Heart grooving in the Blue Room with The Orb and Aisha as starships creep across the desert sky... 40 years pass by slowly, that bass still pulsing on & on & on.
Treatment of a T-Shirt from my brother Matt.
In the midst of all this excitement - post punk and what not from the midst of the Gibson era - it makes sense for a slight return to Neuromancer and Chiba City. The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel, with the binary skyline of Chicago sprawled like '98 and the view from the Sears Tower stretching out into the cornfields of Iowa, Missouri and beyond (the city of Detroit 280 miles in the other direction). Arthur Russell sings Let's Go Swimming across the Great Lakes and life In The Corn Belt
The sounds of this music - post-disco sounds, Compass Point, post punk noise - make perfect sense in the world of The Sprawl and the L5... Tackhead and Fat's Comet, 23 Skidoo and 400 Blows - like Cabaret Voltaire - all make sense in this world as much as Scientist and Blackbeard's dub in the chambers of Zion. King Tubby, Prince Jammy, Bunny "Striker" Lee and all the others blend in the heavy vibes of the anteroom, with the great expanse of the capsule drawing deep into the murky depths below. You are in The Deep now... Captain Nemo plays the pipe organ within the iron walls of the Nautilus.
Sketch an emerald vector from all of this to The Sabres Of Paradise and Two Lone Swordsmen and keep tracing it right up to the this moment, the Glenn Street Assault Squad holding court in the corner booth at the Air Conditioned Lounge, the sound of deep house - Rick Wade, Solaris, Stockholm Sessions - in full effect. The Rooms In My House Have Many Parties, tactile, three-dimensional sounds... rhythms you could reach out and touch, if your ears could only reach just a little bit further. How disco's rhythms sometimes seem as if they were sequenced by machine, the way electronic music often seems to live and breathe.
Prelude and West End, dubbed out sides of the Burnt Sienna series, capturing the sounds of Grantville on wax for posterity. On the Voyager tip. ISDN, Vit Drowning, Earthbeat: great expanses of warped sound twisting in the darkness. Señor Olmos in an overcoat. Curbside sushi and club tools for visitors. Situation 12. Claude Young and The Skinless Brothers; Dirty House Crew/Acid Wash Conflict. Surgeon > Scorn > Faust > The Velvet Underground. The underground lives on, whatever the case may be...
The guitarist who picked up a sampler...
...and became an emissary between the worlds of rock 'n roll and the dancefloor.
From The Clash to Big Audio Dynamite, there's a whole world of dancefloor mayhem to be found in those records.
As the man said, the hardcore life is where it's at...
A man's gotta know his limitations...
I decided to leave with them. We set sail that very night. I was one of the crew. We called at unknown ports. For the first time, I heard the name of Kelisha, Rectis... On an island covered with tall, fragrant grasses, I met a young Greek who told me that in the years...
Encolpio, Fellini Satyricon
Terranova, Terranova... doesn't that mean new land?, I heard a voice say.
Traffic sounds hang like hieroglyphs in the thick of the afternoon, air hot and humid and heavy, surroundings all swathed in blankets of compression. Bass pressure rises from within the monolith's core, the digital skank of The Sabres Of Paradise cresting with gilded guitars on the surf, echoes of Wilmoth Houdini & The Night Owls and distant decades scaling impartial into the past.
The Orb, a sun nestled into the horizon like a craft on the ocean waters. Loa, spirits and the Haunted Danceall all phase in before drifting out toward that familiar star's bronze vibrations on a lazy wave breaking back against the shore...
Excerpt from The Coqui Papers
Dubdisco diva: high priestess of the dancefloor.
The Mental Traveler, moving orchestras on a dime.
A creature lurks in the deep - fathoms deep beneath bass pressure and walls of inertia - submerged in an ocean of sound. Its shadow slides across plant life and outcroppings of stone... a silhouette rises to the surface, slowly. Pipe organ drifts through chasms of dub - invasion creeping in a frieze of fury - it all surges upward into the deep black night.
Sun-glazed beatbox troubadour.