PRE

Verse, bridge, chorus. The three wise monkeys of the industry on which so much of our ‘modern’ culture is founded; ‘modern’ being cities, ‘cities’ being money, ‘money’ being progress, ‘progress’ being modern. Steered onwards by the stubborn male drivers of the pop industry, the map we were reading from has fallen out of date, and the direction we were promised has lead us and left us down the cultural cul-de-sac that is ‘Rock’n’Roll’.

See no, hear no, speak no. That direction, that path supposed to guide us through, tripped us over our own feet. I’ve been taken bored, I’ve been taken senseless as those three monkeys; made tame, oblivious, oblivion. To not be tame, to not be regurgitated, or trite, or (essentially) pointless - you wanna go back don't you? Strip away the building blocks of what this is our fathers built, trip ourselves up and land flat on our faces, close our eyes and wait 'til the ground starts shaking. Thankfully it is now, in a ground shift seems the most significant since '77 but beneath and overneath and all around us at the same time.

Paraphrases...

Who d'you look to? These. And this. And this, and, most obviously, ....

Level check...

Set.

"There's a lot of genius in them there hills..."

So fucking what?

Oi! The worst thing is there was no direction – not outwardly anyway. The Clash may put fizz in my blood and eel pie 'Stones may swell my chest, but what happens afterwards? There's only so many sounds you can wrench from six strings and eight. little. notes. Where as melody got us? Abba? What are we now compared to Elvis? Just as fat, just as American, just as bloody stupid.

Ubiquitous DiS slagging band...pack your bags, head home. We always knew there was a reason, and now it's unearthed; emerging via schoolboys with sticks in the school field dirt. Bags...

They couldn’t of course, ‘cause on the map they use they’re plotting roads not looking at rivers. There are currents that seam and teem but go ridiculously untapped by the majority – fundamentals the unknowing absence of which renders 99%* of music today redundant, really.

An innate knowledge of loops. Circular rhythms that repeat and gain your trust/attention/what... and quick because there's always another person falling over on ice, on sand, or water or solid ground to privilege with a click on YouTube. So...loops. It's innate, init? Dance music. Nothing new. Then that's the whole point.

Trust gained - expand. Melodies reborn through personality and purpose set over the tops of supplanted rhythms; effluence from cogs and cogs from grappling, vein-strong fists. People will always wanna dance, people will always wanna fight, people will always wanna fuck. You need rhythm for all three - the these and this's above can give you that and a breath of fresh air in your eyes to subjugate you like

Health and evil. Scuttling around onstage . Lost in woods and rushed by wolves, woken up and running with the beat of em through trunks and fields. Not knowing whether to crow or crawl.

* = The Year Before 2000