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It's been a strange month. My cosy routine of finishing work, bringing the grubs back home from school, playing music through my laptop and reviewing it simultaneously has been put out of joint a little due to the fact that I have recently purchased a new desktop. Now I write from the bedroom, upstairs so it's difficult to keep an eye on the kids. The arrangement is cosier and more conducive to concentration. I should be able to get shitloads more done in the future, but it's proving to be a difficult transition. I'm finding it difficult to shut myself away from the rest of the family, not because I don't want to work, but because I'm a creature of habit who likes to have everything done by a certain time in order to relax. I also often feel at odds with the world I'm trying to cover. I haven't been out clubbing for a while, nor do I really want to. I haven't played out in a log time either. Life has taken over and sometimes it's difficult to summon up the motivation to get things back on track.
So, as far as the blog's concerned, a scanner is the next big thing. I mentioned a few weeks back that I would be filling its pages with classic articles from times gone by. Test Pressing is a blog that has done this very well and I intend to follow in its footsteps. I went back up to the old country a couple of weeks ago and brought some magazines back home that had been living out their lonely existence as a time capsule. Post-Christmas I shall begin the long, but rewarding task of searching for interesting seminal interviews and putting them back in the spotlight through this blog.
So form my position on life's bridge I can see that I've already done a lot of things and there's no real need for self-justification in the context of clubbing. A Friend of mine went to the recent Classic party last bonfire night at Hackney Downs Studios. It didn't get going until 2am, he was there early and wanted to leave early. This is a person who's done more than their fair share and still has a healthy appetite for the music even though he's advancing into middle age. Anyway, Rob Mello was good, Luke Solomon played like he was pissed, and Derrick Carter was too hard. One persons viewpoint. Everybody else could have been having the time of their lives. However, this is as qualified an opinion as one could hope to have and it wasn't good. Let me add though that this character has recently become a father and is flush with the joys of parenthood. A big factor. Like everyone will eventually realise though, a crossroads is reached and sometimes the realisation that the clubbing experience is one that relies on the many being exploited by the few can be a little difficult to square with the notion of the supposed togetherness that is cashed in on. It's not like this everywhere of course. Just another aspect symptomatic of rip-off Britain paired with the overriding attitude of puritanism and containment.
I digress as usual, just posting for the sake of it and trying to justify my position as a writer by production. I must post some more music-related stuff up instead of insane ramblings. So, with that in mind I will, this week. On another tip, wasn't the Prince documentary on BBC4 last week a let-down? Problem is it'll always be like that unless he gives permission to make one, and collaborates as well. Even then it might still be shite because it's difficult to see him letting himself go to any real extent. What's interesting me at the moment is the housier and techier stuff that dubstep has been giving rise to this past year, and where it's all going to end up. The misogynist v dance music debate started by The Queitus, after they opportunistically picked up on a couple of throwaway tweets from Scuba and writer Kristan J. Caryl was entertaining too. It was very interesting that it was Ben UFO who brought it to the attention of a wider audience. Before this all blew up I was browsing Facebook and I came across some photos showing a Red Bull Music Academy gig he DJed at in The London Eye. It seemed to be full of spotty males and no one else, so I, innocently I thought, commented "Where are all the chicks?" Mr UFO didn't waste much time in repyling, saying, rather hurtfully I thought, something along the line of " . . .no one's used a word like that since the early eighties . . ." Well Ben, maybe I should have known better, because I was probably the age you are now at that time and I can tell you that no one used it then either. My response was to then ask "Where are all the birds then" thinking he might be more familiar with my cockney palare. I could tell from this second comment that our bridges had been well and truly burnt and I was probably nothing more than a more reactionary Jeremy Clarkson in his eyes. Little did I realise the bombshell he would unleash.