So on the Saturday I'll be playing things that ooze and twitch, and on the Sunday I'll be merrily butchering your ribs with blades of black noise. There's much good stuff happening all weekend. Here's the line up. Listen in and shout at us.
Showing posts with label radio. Show all posts
Showing posts with label radio. Show all posts
An Announcement
Altar Ego Radio asked me to be on it a bit this weekend and I said uhuh, uhuh, when? and it said Saturday morning three til five and Sunday evening six til eight. And I asked it what else is on and it said shitloads mate, DJ Food, Old Apparatus, Miss Pink, Sage Francis, Solo One, Stanley Chow, a squadron.
So on the Saturday I'll be playing things that ooze and twitch, and on the Sunday I'll be merrily butchering your ribs with blades of black noise. There's much good stuff happening all weekend. Here's the line up. Listen in and shout at us.
So on the Saturday I'll be playing things that ooze and twitch, and on the Sunday I'll be merrily butchering your ribs with blades of black noise. There's much good stuff happening all weekend. Here's the line up. Listen in and shout at us.
Fruit Blues
One of the kitchens I work in has an unstoppable radio. It's bulbous and grey and I stab it with the big cabbage-cutting knife and it takes no notice. It's a non-digital radio and so in the daytime it can either be silent or make a terrible sequence of noises. The most heart-maiming of these noise sequences is a thing called The New Single from The Prodigy.
"The New Single from The Prodigy" used to be an exciting idea. Like "Broadband". Or "Manchester". But nowahours: Are you shitting me? Am I being shat?
Often it comes on while I am making the "Apple, Grape and Celery" salad, which I've never sliced an apple into, ever, because there's never been an apple in the building. There's apple on the menu, there's a delivery every morning, but there's never an apple on any shelf. It's a soul-pummeling visual metaphor for the lack of depth and flavour in Liam Howlett's recent output. The buffet does not deliver what the menu offers. But people still pay for it.
"The New Single from The Prodigy" used to be an exciting idea. Like "Broadband". Or "Manchester". But nowahours: Are you shitting me? Am I being shat?
Often it comes on while I am making the "Apple, Grape and Celery" salad, which I've never sliced an apple into, ever, because there's never been an apple in the building. There's apple on the menu, there's a delivery every morning, but there's never an apple on any shelf. It's a soul-pummeling visual metaphor for the lack of depth and flavour in Liam Howlett's recent output. The buffet does not deliver what the menu offers. But people still pay for it.
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