About John’s query re: July 23rd 1994

John’s wondering just what we were doing that day, in relation to my comment below.

My answer: Uuuuuhh, I’m thinking Arbor Low I or II, but that could’ve been a coupla years earlier, thinkng about it…

This probably sounds desperately obscure to everyone else — let’s just say they were big “do’s” put on by the northern mob of a key group within industrial culture, at Arbor Low, which is an ace Derbyshire stone circle, not far from Sheffield. Some archaeologists call it “the Stonehenge of the North”. It’s a massive big weird place with huge recumbent (lying down) stones. I’ve visited a fair few times.

It just seems to me that getting the review on July 23rd, dawn of the dog days, with a lot of other interesting signifiers happening at the same time, might have some kind of resonance with celebration of the Sirius current. Some kind of pay off. It would be kind of appropriate. With the new baby coming soon — three weeks! — it’s likely that this is the last phase of musical activity for me for a while. Maybe ever. This could be the circle closing.


Don’t believe the hype. There’s a lot of backlash bullshit against the Coen’s right now and AFAICT it’s a nonsense. The Ladykillers is another great movie from them. I’m notoriously picky about movies — I find it impossible to sit still for them. I can’t bear the lack of interaction; similarly, I can’t sit still for TV, unless it’s specifically about something I’m really interested in, or, more frequently, it’s part of my looking after my son. I don’t even sit still for much music: 90% of my listening is actually mixing, editing or producing stuff. I’m a bit of a control freak.

Watching the Ladykillers at Sheffield’s fantastic “Showroom” cinema, I only had the urge to go walkabout / punch walls / use the Inernet cafe once, and even then I headed back to the film after five minutes. It’s great. Go see it.

My cairn.

I’ve built a nice little cairn in one corner of my garden, which makes me feel all warm inside. Here’s a picture of it.

The cairn in the corner of my garden. Neat isn't it?

It’s oriented east, cos that was the best spot for it, but that’s kind of good for me — earthing air and all that. It’s right underneath an evergreen tree (dunno what kind — I’m not exactly druidic in my knowledge of trees, I just like hugging them ). There’s some wicked plants round it — I like the spikey ones!

I didn’t think at all while I was doing it — meaning I wasn’t mentally verbalising all the time, just using intuition. It hasn’t fallen down yet. The wooden icon (a glyph?) was a random piece that was hanging around which I just stuck in. I think it works well.

Back in from the sunshine

I presume and hope no-one’s been hitting the blogs what with all the fabulous weather we’ve been having.

Personally I’ve fallen deeply in love with a new hobby that’s likely in the end to eclipse my interest in shiny circles of black plastic. Specifically, in the last two weeks I’ve discovered GARDENING. It’s the fucking bomb!

I’m trying to grow Rocket from seed — first time I’ve really tried to “grow” anything. I’ve always been more in the mode of a “Fisher King” giver of death=life or a Schumpeterian “gale of creative destruction” — i.e. I cut back and destroy to create space for new life. Now I’ve got a neat windowbox filled with peat and neatly planted seeds. I’m terrified they’ll just rot in the pot. If all goes to plan I should be in homegrown rocket salad til the end of the summer.

Whether any of this suburban paganism will obviate any of my more self-destructive tendencies I don’t know but here’s hoping I won’t spend every night of the spring obsessively making breakbeats…

Anyway. Pictures soon when I can work out how to do it.

Cosmic shoes, man

“When the starry dynamo was working at full-tilt and I was being crowded in on by sublime coincidence this suddenly felt of intimate import. I had been hanging out with professed Space-Time Magician Ken Downie of The Black Dog, some of whose insights finally pulled the carpet out from under my feet and sent me spiralling loose into a void of zero reference. One of the first things I did when struggling to grip onto reality was ditch the Nike Air’s. “

Fascinating dropping-of-the-veil here from our Matt. He’s right: shoes are more important than they look and not just for camp reasons. They’re our primary means of connecting with the earth, physically — which means they’re our primary means of connecting with the earth, spiritually as well. There is an interesting contrast here between Matt’s historic rejection of the Nike Air, with its solipsistic swoosh, and his recent adoption of the Converse All-Stars, with their pop-culture pentagram — itself a universal symbol of earthed transcendence, everywhere from Angkor Wat and Cancun to, well, North London.

The influence of epic strange-attractor Ken Downie shouldn’t be underestimated. Indeed, their burgeoning relationship was no doubt partly inspired by Matt’s progress to an eschatonic point of no-return — the identification of which I will leave obscure out of respect for Matt. But as an aside, let’s big up Matt for his mention on the Black Dog’s website as both a friend and resident Film Director. Wicked!

Also on this note, I’m pleased to say that the Dust Science record label website is now up. And it includes, I am pleased to say, the biographical entry for the Black Dog — we’re planning to release new material from him. I was going to call up Matt for general advice and background information about the Black Dog but found that the bio seemed to write itself in the most peculiar way — it was only afterwards that I realised that Matt was part of the Black Dog massive! I look forward to the release with some excitement.

Rockports are superb shoes BTW. Supremely comfortable and work with almost any trousers, but particularly suits. I’ve worn one pair of shoes and one pair of boots out on projects — I’m now halfway through my third pair!

Iration Steppas, Everyone Centre, 020404

The EveryOne Centre is a church-hall like community centre attached to a swimming baths in Heeley, with quite lovely 1920’s municipal architecture. It’s a short walk from my house, in a strange marginal area next to the railway line which is just being developed. For years there was an urban wasteland opposite the EveyOne Centre; now there’s a new Virgin Active health centre and some building sites. There’s is still a tangible sense of the area being a secret backwater, and lots of open space. I therefore had a very enjoyable walk down there late last night, which was Spring-warm, T-short weather, with a cloudless sky, and a gorgeous waxing moon hanging high in the sky. I love walking round Sheffield at night and I don’t do it nearly enough, so this made for a good night out even without any music.

I was on the borders of Nether Edge and Heeley, rather than being futher down the Chesterfield Road at the Earl of Arundel and Surrey, because my beloved Dust was cancelled late in the day by the Council, who alleged license problems at the venue. So no chthonic techno from Surgeon for the tribe of Dust, which must have disappointed a lot of people. But almost synchronistically, this meant I had the chance to see the Iration Steppas soundsystem, who I used to see regularly in London. The event was put on by HeadCharge, who run a big acid techno nigh in Sheffield (which I’d really like to get to some time). The crew there have started up a series of dub nights at the Everyone Centre and if last night was any indication it’s a fantastic and popular idea.

I got in about 23.30 and the Steppas were already playing, though they claimed it was just the sound check. It was half full already, with a crowd of hippy punks and the odd black face. There was a small bar area with plenty of seating which had a camo netting wall dividing it from the main dancefloor, which was an open-beamed 20s hall, not very large, strewn with Headcharge and Steppas wall hangings. At each end of the hall were the speaker stacks, which took up most of each side wall. Turning left at the cross-roads to walk to the venue, I was immediately aware of the ground vibrating with the bass; walking onto the floor I was greeted by waves of hair-raising, gut vibrating bass. The impact from Iration Steppa’s sound was much greater in this small space than at, for example the Brixton Rec. It was glorious. They were playing slower, rootsier digidub and the odd stepper when I arrived, and got going properly at midnight, by which point it was pretty full. The Steppas proceeded to drop a series of quite devastating digi / roots rhythms, building the intensity beautifully, with Mark adding progressively more MCing and live vocals to the mix. If you’ve not seen them before, their sound is harsh, pounding digital drums with varying amounts of horns and vocals, squelched and stretched to infinity with filters and EQ. Think DJ Sneak slowed down with ten times the freak power and you’re somewhere close. If you have seen them before, the difference I noticed in hearing them play was the focus and intention in how they played, expertly building peaks and troughs into the set, alternating relentless riddim sequencing with single cuts, varying the tempo to keep your interest. Because you were in such a confined space, you felt like you were enfolded in this monolithic sound, yet you never felt oppressed and could quite easily hold a conversation, even as the bass was slowly tugging your trousers down. And that bass… seismic is a word so overused it’s almost meaningless, but in this instance it’s unavoidable. The sound was so immense you felt like the earth itself was vibrating in harmony with the music — an image that’s a cliche, but I experienced it so intensely I can’t help but describe it as such. In full flight, Iration Steppas generate an unworldly sound where the bass is generating a universe of harmonic vibrations that sound and feel just wonderful. All the way the Irations were tweaking the fuck out of their system, which was just magnificent especially when they cut out everything but a heaving, distorted bass…

The crowd loved the techno-speed digi stuff but I thought it was a bit wooden, Drang without the Sturm, and found myself yearning for more roots or, better, some funky eighties dancehall. So I went out to the front garden, which with the moon filling the sky with a vast halo over it, was a delightful place to rest, especially with the floods of cool clean Peak District air and the Sheffield climate’s dampy, comfy mildness. There was a gentle crowd of chillers there, and at that point, the Everyone Centre seemed like the best club in the world.

I headed back in for another ear-full and it was even better, fantastically funky slices of modern Brit digi from their new LP. Everyone was smiling, even though the hall was now utterly rammed with scarcely any room to dance. When I headed back home, I reflected on how, given the frequency with which Iration Steppas play Sheffield, and how busy I will be when the new baby arrives, that this may have been the last time I see them for a very long time. I that’s the case, then that was a hell of a high note to go out on.