Poat Midnight Trip Hop

Trip hop then migrated U.S. bound with elements of hip hop, and DJ's such as DJ Spooky and DJ Shadow , and east bound to Japan's DJ Krush.

( Music and bio here )

Is Melons On The Menu?

Oh er, is that a cucumber in your hand?

http://www.timeout.com/london/blog/errr-a-naked-restaurant-is-opening-in-london-041916

Another Sunny Day If Cooler

Well another sunny day except for the cold wind that has been occasionally blowing. Mind you i did get an hour outside of sunbathing just outside the back porch from the kitchen which was a bit of  a sun trap until four.

I have been reading some more from the Electric Eden book and i have almost finished the biography of B.S. Johnson.

Posted off a book from an Ebay sale this morning, and then tomorrow , before Phil picks me up for the journey to Brighton, a 12" single from a Discogs sale.

Actually this -

Break Machine - Break Dance Party (1984)

Okay, off to sort out some vinyl for reselling.

Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?

Wednesday Musical Selection - Jazz, Soul, Funk and Latin

So, i selected some  sevens to put on Discogs , whilst listening to them on the record player, and then found the tracks on You Tube. For your listening pleasure these are as follows -

Ada Moore - The Devil is A Woman

( More music here )

Tony Conrad

For lovers of the avant garde there is a fine article in Wire magazine this month, the magazine that got me into trip hop, jungle, improv, drone music, serialism, acid folk etc etc.

Tony Conrad 1940–2016: Breaking The Frame

Alan Licht surveys the late composer and artist Tony Conrad’s film work, which ranged from structuralist classics to public access TV


http://www.thewire.co.uk/in-writing/essays/tony-conrad-1940-2016-breaking-the-frame





Tony Conrad with Faust - From the Side of the Machine Part 1

Recorded over a span of three days in 1973, Outside the Dream Syndicate was Tony Conrad's first official release; though also credited to the celebrated Krautrock band Faust, it's primarily a showcase for Conrad's minimalist drone explorations, an aesthetic fascinatingly at odds with the noisy, fragmented sound of his collaborators. Consisting of three epic tracks, each topping out in excess of 20 minutes, the album is hypnotically contemplative; the music shifts in subtle -- almost subliminal -- fashion, and the deeper one listens, the more rewarding it becomes.

Weirder

I think somebody wrote this for me.

Poems Of The Week

Just realized that i have not done a poetry post for awhile so to make amneds here are three recent faves.


A Sad Child

Poem by MARGARET ATWOOD



You're sad because you're sad.
It's psychic. It's the age. It's chemical.
Go see a shrink or take a pill,
or hug your sadness like an eyeless doll
you need to sleep.

Well, all children are sad
but some get over it.
Count your blessings. Better than that,
buy a hat. Buy a coat or pet.
Take up dancing to forget.

Forget what?
Your sadness, your shadow,
whatever it was that was done to you
the day of the lawn party
when you came inside flushed with the sun,
your mouth sulky with sugar,
in your new dress with the ribbon
and the ice-cream smear,
and said to yourself in the bathroom,
I am not the favorite child.

My darling, when it comes
right down to it
and the light fails and the fog rolls in
and you're trapped in your overturned body
under a blanket or burning car,

and the red flame is seeping out of you
and igniting the tarmac beside your head
or else the floor, or else the pillow,
none of us is;
or else we all are.


Do Not!

BY STEVIE SMITH

Do not despair of man, and do not scold him,
Who are you that you should so lightly hold him?
Are you not also a man, and in your heart
Are there not warlike thoughts and fear and smart?
Are you not also afraid and in fear cruel,
Do you not think of yourself as usual,
Faint for ambition, desire to be loved,
Prick at a virtuous thought by beauty moved?
You love your wife, you hold your children dear,
Then say not that Man is vile, but say they are.
But they are not. So is your judgement shown
Presumptuous, false, quite vain, merely your own
Sadness for failed ambition set outside,
Made a philosophy of, prinked, beautified
In noble dress and into the world sent out
To run with the ill it most pretends to rout.
Oh know your own heart, that heart's not wholly evil,
And from the particular judge the general,
If judge you must, but with compassion see life,
Or else, of yourself despairing, flee strife.


Brass Spittoons

BY LANGSTON HUGHES

Clean the spittoons, boy.
Detroit,
Chicago,
Atlantic City,
Palm Beach.
Clean the spittoons.
The steam in hotel kitchens,
And the smoke in hotel lobbies,
And the slime in hotel spittoons:
Part of my life.
Hey, boy!
A nickel,
A dime,
A dollar,
Two dollars a day.
Hey, boy!
A nickel,
A dime,
A dollar,
Two dollars
Buy shoes for the baby.
House rent to pay.
Gin on Saturday,
Church on Sunday.
My God!
Babies and gin and church
And women and Sunday
All mixed with dimes and
Dollars and clean spittoons
And house rent to pay.
Hey, boy!
A bright bowl of brass is beautiful to the Lord.
Bright polished brass like the cymbals
Of King David’s dancers,
Like the wine cups of Solomon.
Hey, boy!
A clean spittoon on the altar of the Lord.
A clean bright spittoon all newly polished—
At least I can offer that.
Com’mere, boy!