Murphy
cat malogen
Holger Czukay and Jah Wobble. Onerously heavy talents. Together, even better.
School was a war zone. The whole region was drenched in unavoidable violence - domestic, recreational, territorial, footy. Mainland IRA bombing campaign in full swing and that long, grey round-trip via Liverpool and Holyhead. Monstrous times, don't know how the old man stayed sane. Every night and day could get your head filled in, casuals just waiting for an excuse and that classic tradition of Britain and Ireland, drinking into oblivion. Racism and bigotry of the latent or immediately physical kind always waiting if you wore a hoops top. A melting pot though. Lots of Asians, Jamaicans and Irish families on our avenue, the gateway to the north. NG83 hip hop and breaking crew smashed things creatively. A slim shaft of light. The place has chutzpah.
The miners strike. More chaos, but as divisive as it got for the majority of English people we knew. Have to hand it to Thatcher, she was a true daemon. In among the debris of events like Ollerton, a notice went round school about new qualifications - GCSE's - being rolled out. Piss take because we were the first cohort up. Lab rats got put into sets. Some mates who were marked down took it as a signal to fuck the whole thing off and sell draw ft. More cash meant more records. Somewhere in this swamp of velocity-enforced fear and carnage, Holger Czukay and Jah Wobble's collaborations landed.
2 bass players. 2 legitimate brains who made bass as a locking physical force. 2 wise cracking eccentrics, 2 gentlemen with unhinged talents combined. This entire thread could dovetail into German cosmic-ness so easily. ¬Focus¬.
Selected tunes offer combinations of personnel. The first track is/was a brave new world. Seriously. If you're at an age when hormones are carving up your psyche, listening to a composition that dissolves the world, or anyone's for that matter, has to effect an epic dose of qualia modulating sonics. Language doesn't help, so
Transportation. A place. A high. A drop away. Temporal transactions, where you nodded out but from the very opposite of escapism. In it. Of it. Music with swagger. There's a good chunk of material left hanging (PIL), so it has to be the following groovers
Bliss. Rhythm of an obvious but subliminal nature too. I'm charmed and astounded by this music. That it exists, people actually made it. That they find a tempo and allow themselves to go with it. Another thread here mentions Jaki Liebezeit. What a drummer. Relentless and on it. ON IT. A lot of folk music i'd heard was a strict idiom that packed the emotional and harmonic punch, but these tracks achieve another form of lift off. Wunderbar.
A brief side note for later Balearic Wobble glory. Bomba is, was and forever shall define everything good about music from a specific era that dared to illuminate these rain-soaked islands of shittiness
Notable inclusion (apologies, this was a pure drug tune)
Next, Demis Roussos.
School was a war zone. The whole region was drenched in unavoidable violence - domestic, recreational, territorial, footy. Mainland IRA bombing campaign in full swing and that long, grey round-trip via Liverpool and Holyhead. Monstrous times, don't know how the old man stayed sane. Every night and day could get your head filled in, casuals just waiting for an excuse and that classic tradition of Britain and Ireland, drinking into oblivion. Racism and bigotry of the latent or immediately physical kind always waiting if you wore a hoops top. A melting pot though. Lots of Asians, Jamaicans and Irish families on our avenue, the gateway to the north. NG83 hip hop and breaking crew smashed things creatively. A slim shaft of light. The place has chutzpah.
The miners strike. More chaos, but as divisive as it got for the majority of English people we knew. Have to hand it to Thatcher, she was a true daemon. In among the debris of events like Ollerton, a notice went round school about new qualifications - GCSE's - being rolled out. Piss take because we were the first cohort up. Lab rats got put into sets. Some mates who were marked down took it as a signal to fuck the whole thing off and sell draw ft. More cash meant more records. Somewhere in this swamp of velocity-enforced fear and carnage, Holger Czukay and Jah Wobble's collaborations landed.
2 bass players. 2 legitimate brains who made bass as a locking physical force. 2 wise cracking eccentrics, 2 gentlemen with unhinged talents combined. This entire thread could dovetail into German cosmic-ness so easily. ¬Focus¬.
Selected tunes offer combinations of personnel. The first track is/was a brave new world. Seriously. If you're at an age when hormones are carving up your psyche, listening to a composition that dissolves the world, or anyone's for that matter, has to effect an epic dose of qualia modulating sonics. Language doesn't help, so
Transportation. A place. A high. A drop away. Temporal transactions, where you nodded out but from the very opposite of escapism. In it. Of it. Music with swagger. There's a good chunk of material left hanging (PIL), so it has to be the following groovers
Bliss. Rhythm of an obvious but subliminal nature too. I'm charmed and astounded by this music. That it exists, people actually made it. That they find a tempo and allow themselves to go with it. Another thread here mentions Jaki Liebezeit. What a drummer. Relentless and on it. ON IT. A lot of folk music i'd heard was a strict idiom that packed the emotional and harmonic punch, but these tracks achieve another form of lift off. Wunderbar.
A brief side note for later Balearic Wobble glory. Bomba is, was and forever shall define everything good about music from a specific era that dared to illuminate these rain-soaked islands of shittiness
Notable inclusion (apologies, this was a pure drug tune)
Next, Demis Roussos.
