Detroit Grand Pubahs/Rza Bobby Digital

another few reviews if you be arsed.

Detroit Grand Pubahs ' Nuttin Butt Funk (Det.Ele.Funk)

Somewhere along the way techno lost da funk. I don't really know when this happened having lost interest in Detroit's 'hi-tech jazz' somewhere in the mid-90s. Bleep I could live with and whilst I admired the Cornish tech miners (Aphex, Vibert) and the likes of Autechre, Paradinas, Jenkinson, their brand of 'drill n' bass' operated somewhere on the outer reaches of intergalactic funk. Meanwhile whilst appreciating Hawtin's minimalist genius, his techwank left me cold. Jeff Mills, Carl Craig, UR all passed me by to be honest.

So, I've been attempting to re-educate myself over the past four years or so. What confuses me is all the hybrids; tech-house, intelligent glitchkore, tech-dub, booty-step, deep-click etc. But what it all boils down really is da funk. Modern funk, mutant funk, funk not as a 70s pimpsploitation cliche but as an evolving technological artform.

When the UK and Germany replaced Detroit as the centres for techno's commercial and some would say artistic centre, the circle seemed complete; Kraftwerk's Teutonic synth-funk influences black American musicians and DJs who produce their own takes on this sound and export back to the Fatherland. Yet what the music lost in this process was the essential funk of the grooves.

Nuttin Butt Funk reasserts the essence of Detroit Techno, not that it ever went away but serves as a timely reminder that for all the recent hype surrounding the likes of Villalobos et al, back in the ghettoes that spawned techno, the emphasis is still on the visceral thump thump head noddin' qualities of the music.

Beginning with the cosmic opener (costech?) track 'Skydive From Venus' with its tinkling piano and muffled bass, this LP takes in pounding tits out stompers like 'Message From Overkill' and 'Crystal', the best p-funk tune Clinton never made, 'Rollin' Paper & Bush,' the squelchy electro of 'Earth Hoes', deep tech flow of '50,000 Legions', the insane whump whump hardcore of 'ChiTown Shuffle' and several deeply silly 'skits.'

There is a seriousness to some tracks especially the Funkadelic style Rollin' Paper & Bush which takes a swipe at the cultural appropriation of black art forms, although this is balanced with the humourous (yet deeply sexist) 'Earth Hoes' and 'Butt Market.' The Grand Pubahs are not sonic crusaders like UR or Mills, they offer GettoTech that is accessible to even non-techno disciples such as myelf. Nuttin Butt Funk indeed.

Rza as Bobby Digital - Digi Snacks (Bodog)

Rappers, like squaddies exist in a state of perpetual adolescence. They appear to have rejected the usual trajectory of adulthood - responsibilities and all that boring straight shit - to indulge in a blunts n' hoes Utopia of sex n' weed on tap. OK, so most people in the music biz act in a similar way but rappers, even supposedly intelligent ones like Rza, appear to wallow in this shallow pool of decadent sensuality for far longer than most. Having a dig at Robert Diggs is hip hop heresy but here goes;

Let's begin with the artwork. The illustrated front cover sees our masked hero on a throne, surrounded by six concubines of varying ethnic origin. The usual Wu quasi-Samurai/Kung Fu adornments accompany this Digital despot and he stares coldly, dispassionately at us, like some terrible sultan about to pass sentence of death by a thousand cuts. The inside comic artwork attempts to convey some kind of dark urban narrative to the LP, as if it's a 'concept' maaan. Yet what we get is just the same old, same old. Guns n' sex n' quack science n' third rate philosophy. And it's not bad, some of it the epic 'You Can't Stop Me Now' and the superb 'Don't Be Afraid' are equal to any other Rza or solo Wu effort, it's just.....you expect MORE from Rza.

The Wu are thru! They've had their moment in the sun and for a while they were as important and vital in re-shaping hip hop for a new decade, a new generation as had been Public Enemy or De La Soul. Their problem was stretching the Rza sonic template far too wide. The initial lo-fi thrill of 36 Chambers was replaced by formula beats, familiar tricks, leaden, lazy raps. Too much of Digi Snacks is just Rza by numbers, it leads nowhere, it's a sonic, aesthetic and commercial dead end. Hip hop has always evolved to sustain itself but it seems that Rza and the entire Wu collective have simply ran out of steam. There are younger, hungier rappers and producers out there and perhaps, Bobby Digital should take a look around and y'know grow up a bit.

Hang Loose fanzine 1990

Yet another of my short-lived and totally unsuccessful attempts to enter the lo-fi world of fanzine culture armed only with a marker pen, a friendly typist at work and the Dept Of Lies trusty photocopier. If I could be arsed scanning it in, I would but I can't so here are a few slected bits n' bobs from issue 2

Fashion Forecast Winter 90-91

2nd hand socks
slip-on undies
putting your hair in a bun (dig at deee-lite? can't remember)
prussian aristocrat muzzies (weatherall got the idea here)
sad cardys with maps of africa on the back (Harvey got the idea here)
sumo wrestler barnets (dee-lite again?)
dressing like a hassidic jew
violet, orange and yellow checked trews (rupert got the idea here)
fireman helmets
balloon jeans and smoothy belts
bukta trackies
Boys Brigade hats
cut-down pacamacs
digital watches that bleep
suede socks
platform slippers
adidas tattoos on your buttocks
bullet belts
camouflage staffs
double-breasted t-shirts
george best yeti beards
jummy sale parkas with no arms
skiddy kilts
'i think the poll tax is a rather good idea actually' t-shirts
CID raincoats
afro wigs

Pensionari

It's the youth cult that's sweeping the nation. Yes all across Britain kids are copying the dress sense of their grandparents for that authentic OAP look which the fashion press have Christened 'Pensionari' - out have gone hooded jeans and baggy shoes, in have come brown check suits, trilbys, scuffed hobnails and starched vests. 'Pensionari' don't drive around in flash cars, they gather at bus stops and moan about the poll tax, kids today, bus fares etc. Their favourite meeting places are post offices, cafes, poll tax demonstrations and funerals. They are vociferous and they know their rights. Top accessories include war medals, tartan shopping trollies, lethal weapon walking sticks and massive bags full of dog food, chicory coffee, butterscotch toffees, sticks of rhubarb and pig's bladders. Don't ever fuck with the pensionari or you'll get a herring slapped in your face sharpish!

No Guru, No Method, No Teacher - Hang Loose Playlist

reasons to be cheerful pt 3 - ian dury
it's her factory - gang of four
it's a love thing - the whispers
soul bongo - little stevie
scorpio - grandmaster flash
cloud 9 - the temptations
staisfaction guaranteed - harold melvin and the bluenotes
let the world wait for you - archie bell and the drells
cast a spell - the turnpikes
look through my eyes - rufus and chaka khan
lions after slumber - scritti politti
one trick pony - paul simon
rumours - hot chocolate
undercover - rolling stones
pyjamarama - roxy music
black dahlia - david toop
interference - model 500
amor amor - gipsy kings
bewildered - james brown
walk on into my heart - bobbie smith
smokey - funkadelic
theme from barney miller
i'm down - the beatles
what can i do - boz scaggs
mardi gras - lonnie liston smith
talkin all that jazz - stetsasonic
transmitting live from mars - de la soul
oasis - happy mondays
funeral pyre - the jam
dazed and confused - led zepellin

stick it all in, fuck off the purists, checkpoint charlie is no more! (ah the idealism of youth)

Are You Ready For The Crazy Sound Of Ulster?

Put on your balaclava and hijack the nearest taxi cos Ulster Beat is with us. Every day down at the docks you can see the fun-loving gangs of happy-go-lucky paramilitaries waxing their kalashnikovs in readiness for a day of surfin' and knee-cappin.' Here are some of Ulsterbeat's top records:

Surfin' UDA
Two Guns For Every Boy
Good Bomb Vibrations
When I Grow Up To Be A Terrorist

Five New Music Crazes For 1991

Indie-Bhangra - groups such as The Wedding Present, Ned's Atomic Dustbin and The Pixies will crossover/sell out by fusing their guitar frenzied rock with Indian sitars and bongos to create a totally poo musical hybrid - Top Tune : I'm Into Footy Me by Ravi Shankar feat Liu Reed and The Fall

Coma Pulse Music - New Age landscapes for people who enjoy listening to seaweed. Burnt out tossers from 1973 into synthesisers will concoct an ethereal mood music which combines life support system noises and mating dolphins - Top Tune : Cumulus Rex by Brian Eno feat a shoal of migrating salmon (think this was aimed at The Orb)

Orkney Beat - A new dance sound created when top house DJs holiday in the Orkneys and bring back the eclectic happy-go-lucky spirit of Highland Scotland to London clubs - Top Record : Straight Outa Peebles by MC Mungo McTavish feat Paul Oakenfold

Thrashrap - A musical collision of thrash metal and hip hop performed by long haired mid-west metal bands in sad trainers and Public Enemy t-shirts. Every band will have a black bass player with dreadlocks and a mad lead singer with skateboard tattoos. Top Tune : Da Bitch Done Dissed Me by Faith No More feat Saddam Husseinski

Pubadelic - Two bit pub bands with 16 year old drummers will buy lots of War LPs and sample rioting Leeds fans to produce a groundbreaking fusion of badly played Bootsy Collins basslines and Sham 69 prole vocals. Top Tune - There's Only One Georgey Clinton by Flowered Up feat Sly Stone.

Clubbed Senseless

The whole world it seems has been convinced into believing that 'clubbing' is the only relevant form of leisure-time in the 90s. Goths, doleys, estate agents, plumbers, actors, peelers, vicars...you name it, they're all participating in the latest crazzy youth phenomenon. Ofcourse back in the early 80s it was a West End clique of veteran trendys who recieved all the glory. Face, i-D and Blue Rondo types formed a mutual appreciation society and advertised their irrelevant lifestyles as some kind of recession-escapist Nirvana.

Then the acid scene dumped these self-important W1 wankers firmly on their arses and democratised the dancefloor Karl Marx stylee. The only problem now being that every Tom, Dick and Barry Grant got in on the act and the bad old days of elistism didn't seem that bad after all. An influx of dodgy indie kids, Sloanes, beer monsters and general bints was bound to cause a snobbish backlash but if we're going to return to Bob Elms types in their Telecom Des Garcons whistles ( I know the banana) supping Thai rice wine and discussing Dada, then I suggest that other avenues of leisuredom be explored. How about fly-fishing, hiking, making balloon animals, sheep farming or simply going to bed at 7.30 with a book a glass of Vimto?

Taking Penalties - How the stars do it

Mark Hughes scissor kicks it
Chris Waddle dummys it
Vinny Jones jumps on it and stabs it
Gazza stuffs it up his shirt and runs into the back of the nets with it
John Barnes runs up, falls down and claims a penalty (and gets it)
Clayton Blackmore rapes it
Peter Beardsley scares it to death
Brian McClair snots all over it
Mo Johnstone buys it a drink and then glasses it

Cherry Faves (local disco-tek's top tunes from 82/83)

african and white - chinca crisis
burn rubber on me - gap band
rescue - echo and the bunnymen
the model - kraftwerk
give it to me baby - rick james
rock the casbah - the clash
messages - omd
not just knee deep - funkadelic
magic's wand - whodini
funkin for jamaica - tom browne

August/September New Releases

Hatchback - Colours Of The Sun (Lo Recordings)

Music like this and that of the Scandolearic Dons could only be made by the sea. Whether it's Samuel Milton Grawe aka Hatchback's California or Rune Lindbaek's Norway, there's the feeling of open expanses and salt air and - yawn - space! Lots of space, space inbetween the spaces, both physical and spiritual. Endless horizons and miles of desolate shoreline. After being The Sorcerer's apprentice for a while, Quick Draw McGrawe has emerged as a real challanger to Dan Judd's cosmo-cali crown with this startlingly good LP. Recording together as Windsurf, they share a similar ethos, reclaiming the AOR West Coast heritage and fusing it with Euro synth-prog to produce 21st century epics. Essential!

Release Date - 22nd September

Various - Cosmic Balearic Beats Vol 1 (Eskimo)

The original Bealric Beats Vol 1 (there never was a Vol2) was released 20 years ago in 1988 and maybe more than any other compliation, changed what we now call 'dance' music for ever. With the re-birth of interest in all things 'balearic' this release is a timely reminder that the original ethos of balearia never went away. Mixed by Skinny Joey, these tracks serve as an antidote to the likes of Fred Deakin's cash-in Nu-Balearica comp on Ministry Of Sound (are they STILL going?). Maybe it's a tribute to that original Ibizan template of togetherness that a Belgian label has served up a cracking tribute to Balearic Beats with contributions form the UK, US, Belgium, Germany and Italy. Wasn't that what Amnesia was supposed to be all about?

Release Date - 6th October

Red Snapper - Pale Blue Dot (Lo Recordings)

More fishocentric funk from the Snappers, now back to a three piece and honking that Fela-esque sax with wild abandon. After listening to nowt but nu-cosmo-balearia-space-disco for the last three centuries, Red Snapper's organic blend of afro-dub-funk-electronica comes as a bit of a refreshing change. There are even cosmic-rockabilly (cockabilly??)tinges here with dub-slap-bass action and two remixes;Subway's take on Brickred and my favourite, the Kelpe remix of Clam. This LP (extended EP really - only 6 tracks plus the two remixes) was recorded live in the studio and that really comes across with an almost freestyle/jam feel to the tracks, but ina good way! Good to have the whippersnappers back after too long an absence.

Release Date - 6th October

Thanks to Jonas at epm for review copies

Other CDL recommendations

Funky Nassau - The Compass Point Story 1980-1986 (Strut)

Been out a while this but is essential listening for anyone with even the slightest interest in the evolution of modern music. Put simply, Chris Blackwell of Island Record's Bahamian studio became perhaps the most innovative production space of the 80s with its 'drum n' bass' super-duo, Sly and Robbie, producer Wally Badarou and the creme of New York's No Wave/Mutant Disco crowd all maxing n' relaxin and soaking up the laidback Caribbean vibes. Grace Jones, Tom Tom Club, Talking Heads, Gwen Guthrie, Ian Dury, Chaz Jankel, Will Powers tracks, FK, Larry Levan mixes, dubs, 12 inch versions, obscurities, there's something different about all these tracks, even the familiar ones. Lovingly packaged with extensive sleevenotes, this is the kind of compliation that makes me weep when I see all those tacky Ibiza Bliss abortions stocked up in row after row of funky house Fierce Angel futility.

Bon Iver - For Emma, Forever Ago (4AD)

The sthick goes like this; Justin Vernon aka Bon Iver (French for Good Winter if you knock off an H) splits with bird, retreats into the wilds of Wisconsin during the winter of 2006/07 and pours his heart and soul into these nine tracks of loneliness and despair. In his freezing wooden shack, Bon kills and eats a deer to keep him going and with only the merest hint of production and 'additional recording' the songs write themselves. It's a good story and I even think some of it may be true. There's no doubting Bon's despair, each song being more or less an ode to his ex, the Emma of the title no doubt. I should hate it but there's no two ways about it, this is a beautiful record with Vernon's achingly morose voice and the spartan arrangements highlighting the minimalist 'one man and his songs' philosophy of the 'concept.' There are elements of Jose Gonzalez's stripped bare guitar style and the alt-folk-harmonics of Fleet Foxes. At times the lyrics are at once self-indulgent 'and if all your love was wasted then who the hell was I?' yet totally heartfelt. I'd advise Justin 'to get over it' but if he did, then he wouldn't have produced such a gorgeous record as this.