That's bullshit. You're a white suburban punk just like me

Yeh, but it still hurts
You ate a lot of acid didn't you, back in the hippy days. when the sun streamed down onto your oiled back, fracturing and seething under the heat. When seas of green left it's imprint on elbows as you lay on family air looms, while baseless distortion crackled from electrocuting speakers. Hyper-masculinity took control as blacked meat never tasted so good. How did it feel when you had no school, when the reclining sun cast it's shadow and you moved to the woodlands, for Promethean temptations. Flames licked the Prussian blue sky while dead wood embers crepitated on melting glass. That southern glow on familiar faces left echos in the cavities on your consciousness, old and decaying now.
Yeh, but it still hurts

Fear - Let's Have A War
Suicidal Tendencies - Institutionalized
The Circle Jerks - We All Gotta Duck


Songs taken from cult 1984 film, "Repo Man" consists some now classic mid-80's post-punk tracks, that makes you truly feel like your a 1984 Los Angles white trash whore.

Dedication

Basically someone has stolen a piece of writing off the blog and tried to pass it off as their own work. I apologise to anyone else who has to read this, but hey, you get a Cranberries song out of it. However...
To the steaming vagina that wants to plagirise the words of this blog and pass them off as a "poem" to one his god awful pieces of art that looks like a tracing he had done with crayon in his arse crack, here's a song dedicated to you, a rather aptly named Cranberries song, I hope it becomes somewhat of a soundtrack for your life. You can to listen to while you're living at home, a virgin the age of 46, having your mother tuck you into your waterproofed bed because she thinks you have a medical condition called "nocturnal enuresis" when the real reason you piss the bed because it makes you feel warm on those cold lonley nights in your meaningless life.

Cranberries - Copycat

Oh and the picture is a reference to the mirror scene in which Harpo copies all of Groucho's actions in the film Duck Soup. You probably didn't have to cultural captial to work that out for yourself.

I Only Said I Did It So They'd Take My Bellend Out The Chilli Sauce

Excessively dark humor and the handling of taboo subjects as if they were nothing more than that broken Transformer that you found behind your cupboard that your estranged father gave you 5 Christmases past. Poking fun at rape and murder, paedophilia and suicide as well as critiquing a late 90s society that had become strangled by its own excessively sycophantic superficiality. Following the sordid exploits of Clive Pringle, trainee Brummie terrorists, foreign call centers and a hapless unemployed voice over actor.



A world of dark alleys and dank streets Monkey Dust was one of those late night BBC3 shows that my dad never let me stay up and watch, thinking that perhaps animated sketches depicting a grotesque internet pervert grooming a 12 year old girl, or the hapless exploits of a desperate first time cottager was not really the choice viewing for his 13 year old son. Nevertheless, despite the fact that at the age of 12 I had no clue what a cottager actually was (despite using at numerous times as a playground insult after), I still snuck downstairs in the dead of a school night to watch it. Nose pressed up against the prickly electronically static screen with volume right down to one bar.

Goldfrapp - Deer Stop
Ilya - Rehab Messiah
Boards Of Canada - Turquoise Hexagon Sun
Goldfrapp - Lovely Head

Closet Music

I can make you feel like it doesen't matter if your clothes are too feminine, your gait is slightly too bouncy or that you're haunted by that one reckless night. You thought you'd repressed the memory so deeply. You filed it in amongst the images of naked family members and Two Girls, One Cup. Surely no one would ever, could never, find out. But I know... I know.

Blank - Shirt Off
Munk - Down In LA (Shazam Edit)
Mr Flash - Eagle Eyez

Nighttime Noise

1. Everything is shutting down. Walking home when the sky is a sickly pale blue colour, you imagine you're an astronaut. You jump but stay tethered to the concrete, swaying gently back and forth, as woozy as a balloon. You settle for somnolence so the stars twist into animals and you drift into late night euphoria under the time-lapse clouds. Arthur Russell conjures the lunar landscape of night with his looping, gravityless cello and drowsy voice. A man lost totally in the infinite swirls of cassette he used, he spoke of his work as a 'world of echo' which describes the land of near-sleep perfectly.

2. Most of the sounds you hear are drifting in a lukewarm jelly: softened waves of synthesiser, shushed tickles of drums and disembodied cooing. Technicoloured computer light blips over the concrete, warm and cold at the same time.

3. The Fader is all about David Byrne.

Television ghosts talk slowly and coldly in the dark. A luminous body sneaks into you and makes you ache. A scarf-covered blue light pulses under your eyelids. On the television there are passages of sound and moments of silence. There doesn't have to be dialogue. You forget.

4. When you do sleep you swoon. A huge mountain of loops and explosions of light and space, masses of sirens and narcotic drifts, wailing strobes and smudged, broken sections of swollen black cloud. It's not endless or outside of time but just stops. It ends. You have to wake up to dismal morning and the sound of rain hitting pavement where it sounds like people clapping.

1. Arthur Russell- This Is How We Walk On The Moon

2. Plaid- Buddy

3. David Byrne and Brian Eno- Solo Guitar With Tin Foil

4. My Bloody Valentine- 2

You Might Want To Wash That Bed Of Crimson Joy

Three fierce kittens read the beginners bible while your ovaries explode
Here's some songs to commit polygamy to.
Panda Bear - Guys Eyes (Live)
Beach House - Gila
Yellow Fever - Hellfire
Fight Bite - Swissex Lover

I tried to put some "Shot By Kern" pictures up to go with these songs, but the Big Brother state has deemed them too subversive for our fragile little innocent minds. And to prevent ourselves from being corrupted with Kern's exploration of the sexual state, has subsequently removed them, forcing me to use more of a latently sexual image. To see the images I posted originally to accompany these songs go on the following links:
Ana Lucia - Shot By Kern
Sasha Grey - Shot By Kern

Something Funky And Haunted....

I wish for nothing more in this life than to be able to transport myself, through space and time, to the epicentre of each of my favourite hip-hop movements. One day, when we've stopped worrying about the bees, we'll work it out. Then we can holiday to New York in 1981 to rub shoulders with Zorro hat wearing grandmasters.

Ok so you've just got back to your Brooklyn apartment with your friend Lance, new bright blue suit in hand, you tune in to WBLS for Mr Magic's show, Ecstacy, Jalil and Grandmaster Dee are wonderfully courteous and explain to you how rap works in Magic's Wand. The vocoder edit of The Haunted House Of Rock wins because it brings to mind images of robots dressed as zombies doing the thriller dance with Kylie-style face microphones.

Whodini - Haunted House Of Rock (Vocoder Version)

Now we're in LA, early 90s, with Fatlip (before the coke), J Swift (before the crack), because if you're like me, you'd rather smoke joints with Slimkid3 and Bootie Brown then jock bitches and slap hoes with Eazy E and Dr Dre. Like a lot of The Pharcydes material this song is better with motion and sunlight. So when you arrive in LA in 92, after you rent the low-rider, cruise up and down the beach with Passing Me By on full.

The Pharcyde - Passing Me By

It would be way more fun to hang out with Biggie than Tupac. I'd much rather consume excessive amounts of Hennessey, smoke joints rolled proper and fuck many bitches, big booty bitches, than get arrested for sodomy. You only have to watch this to understand. I guess this part of the transchronoteleportation holiday would be pretty short. I'm scared of guns.

Notorious B.I.G. - Friend Of Mine

Now were back in 2009 for some far less threatening tunes by Chicago rapper Vyle. Possible is produced by hot new Shazam who with 80s disco dance finesse has groomed Vyle's Chi-town flow to make Possible sound like a hybrid of The Cool Kids and Chromeo. You soon realise this tune would be most at home at a party in Beverly Hills while everyone sips Cristal and no one likes each other. It's a beautiful kind of hip hop - makes you feel rich.


Vyle - Possible (produced by Shazam)

You'd think on a global hip-hop megatrip you'd probaly finish up in LA, New york or maybe London but not Sweden. MOVITS, music 'for mothers and art directors', are Aryan, gyspy hip-hopsters that make me want to dance in the street, be chased by bulls away from the art I was admiring and have lorry loads of tomatoes thrown at my well-groomed, blonde moustache. they are the reason I like music I can't understand, especially this. Swedish is pretty.

Movits! - Äppelknyckarjazz