Om man inte har nytt material, så kan man åtminstone gå tillbaks och dammsuga fildelarnätverken efter obskyra spår. Här finns tidiga, knasiga experiment, halvsläppta låtar och lösa samarbeten. Man blir påmind att behållningen med Sedlighetsroteln inte var Looptroops och Timbuktus skitduktiga skitnödighet, men exempelvis PstQ på Hallå:
“Jag låter det vara osagt vem som har lama texter,
har pyjamasfester, och vems brud som har adamsäpple.
Ni apar efter oss, men åt helvete med era stilbyten,
jag får lämna varje inspelning med tre jävla bilbyten.”
Även om det är ojämnt, bevisas det flera gånger att PstQ kan mer än att skriva krångligt, roligt, otrevligt.
Obnoxiuz – Medan Jag Sov feat. Pst/q:
“Jag kan inte skilja mellan verklighet och mardröm
Det som om världen trampar vatten i en malström
Jag kanske vrider mig i sängen, svettas kvicksilver
Eller sitter blickstilla i TV-flimrets krigsbilder
Tillhör det drömmen, febern, mina jämna plågor?
Filmen i mitt huvud är på temat hämnd och hem i lågor
Dårar till män som patrullerar sitt stängsel
Vid minsta misstanke statueras exempel
Och väljer dom att fängsla nån, finns det alltid svenskar som
Saknar ryggrad och låter Pentagon hämta dom
Eller har jag drömt det också? Vänta nu
Är det terrorister eller frihetskämpar vi bekämpar nu?
Jag har en dröm jag kallar flygkaparn och skyskrapan
Monstren under sängen, fanatikern och sydstatarn
Och fy satan vad den skakar mig i själens djup
Jag trodde jag var vaken så när fan tar den jäveln slut?“
Kraut-rockers Neu engraved a short burst of electroclash on their 1973 album Neu 2, arriving at the same formula more than 20 years before Le Tigre, Chicks On Speed and all them suckers. Sure, the old german experimentalists and the new feminist art-school poseurs most likely don’t employ the exact same ingredients cooking up a track, but listen to the song below and tell me that it doesn’t sound a lot like some nineties preset drum-machine patterns with generic attitude-screeches. The 70s wins again.
France never was any good at popular culture (except rap music, and Daft Punk), something the documentary Generation Electro clearly shows. So the kids there have made their own version of breakdance (actually the same thing with the robots and the headspins replaced by metrosexual dance moves from old Backstreet Boys-videos) called Tecktonik or some bullshit. Or they just refer to it as Electro.
But what do the french know about electro anyway? Isn’t Miss Kittin french? Can’t she tell them off? On the other hand, she might be too busy desecrating Elvis-classics and talking shit about Frank Sinatra to inform an up and coming generation what is right and wrong.
Frankie Boy’s lucky the mob had his back… otherwise he would never be mentioned anywhere near The King in the annals of popular music. Listen here to Elvis taking Blue Eyes’ own song and making it better. As is stated in the comments section, “nutin against u frank but this should hav been written for the king“.
Miss Kittin can talk shit about Sinatra without a problem, but when she steps to The King, she better come correct. Her cover of Sweet Dreams was perfection, being everything the original should have been, but this version of Suspicious Minds better not leave the studio. The arrangement’s wrong, the beat’s wrong, the singing’s wrong, the whole damn song’s wrong. (The rest of the album seems to be making up for it, though.)
Here we got some favourite youtubes of the late great, for y’all to savor his sweet voice together with the striking features and adonis-like physique.
A wonderfully bleak, realistic, depressing update of the Mafia-movie. Since most well-known gangster flicks are american, it’s refreshing to see a contemporary take on the genre coming from the motherland (and it’s not dealing with the Sicilian Cosa Nostra, but the Napolitanian Camorra – which explains the title).
The almost-documentary, understated storytelling has more in common with the Cops-inspired excitement of Meirelles and Padilha than with the well-rehearsed choreography of Scorcese, Coppola, Leone, De Palma, and leaves the movie open, more naked to life, for once letting the personal development (yes, voice-overs and first person perspectives can be made to work well at times, but rarely manages to stay clear of the stereotypes that surround the fine art of myth-making) stand back for the social situation. Characters and surroundings, in all their beauty and ugliness, are captured masterfully.
Originally a book by journalist-in-exile (after several death-threats) Roberto Saviano, the beautifully shot Gomorra stands together with The Sopranos as recent years most solid addition to the ever intriguing mob mythology of the modern world.
That modern-day-gangster-fatso-in-tracksuit-look didn’t even work for Tony Soprano.
Went to see White Heat at the local cinema club; well-made, tense gangster classic (if you just adjust to the slower pace, typical of forties cinema). Top of the world, ma’!
On the way home Christian Blochs Detrayed was once again found in my headphones. I realized that he’s my favourite techno-producer of these years (together with Marko Fürstenberg and Dub Taylor I suppose); innovative, with hard, precise programming and deep ambients that suceed in side-stepping all the typical tricks of the genre.
The institution called Soul Assasins, Psycho Realm, the exteded Cypress Hill family, is still here.
Nice beat. B-Real is almost better than he was in the past.
And Sick Jacken made one of the best songs of 2007, obviously not giving a shit about current trends in hiphop (which is refreshing).
My soul is in a custody fight with god or satan
Either rap or crack I go hard for paper
Niggas aint even as smart as Deja
And think they rockin me to sleep or poppin me with heat
I don’t even take you serious I think you envious
I feel it I was born to deal bricks
And come through the hood in I’ll whips
Who you think you deal with I don’t fear shit nigga
Fuck around and get hit up
Your blood stained the pavement like paint from a portrait I painted
Your moms seen the coffin and fainted
You’re swimming with the sharks and the water is tainted
If you feel it in your heart bring it
My infrared beam is on your head
My desert eagle severs people when I squeeze it“