I am Here.

The beautiful new film directed by David Holmes and filmed by renowned cinematographer, Christopher Doyle (The Quiet American, Dj Shadow, “Six days” Wong Kar Wai video). Trippy, dark and warm, it shows off the beauty of Fermanagh, a place so remote and yet so near. It’s beauty rivals some of the most fantastic places in Irlanda. However, it is ignored largely on the island, due to the large population of smuggler hobbits, who on their day can shift berries, nuts, timber and Volvos across the thankfully non-existent border. They do it out of habit and sometimes out of love. C’mon who doesn’t love a new Volvo.

Without a shadow of a

BR#76 DJ Shadow from BOILER ROOM on Vimeo.

DJ Shadow at the Boiler room surrounded by sycophants and drunk hipsters and a guy to the right who looks like he’s having some anxiety attack. It’s worth waiting for despite the first few minutes, irritating stuff… Actually maybe I shoulda just listened to the SoundCloud version. Bad munki. Anyway, he plays some interesting stuff, but the guy with beard to the left steals the show by acting as a meme, one which future generations will assume reflected a generation of what they called way back when in the 21st century, ‘Hipster.’ Stop stroking your chin you fuckin. Anyways.

What is wrong with hipsters anyway? Why do they not fit into their skinny jeans? Why do they always have beards? Why do they never wash? Why are they always standing in front of me at gigs, with hair that gets in my way? Why do they always look like hipster hitler? Why do they have such skinny arms? Are they subject to the terms of ethnic cleansing? Can I kill the one in my basement? Can I? Oh wait, he dead already.

On the other hand, this below is the my favourite facebook status of all time.

“Saw ground zero today. Very emotional. Xxxxx knew a guy who lost his life in 911 and we found his name around the north pool. Then went to see The Lion King in Broadway. Excellent show.”

Doesn’t get much better than that.

shadows…all I see is shadow

for peoples who miss Pavement tonight, make sure not to miss DJ Shadow who is playing in Tripod on

Wanna buy me hat?

Monday 5th July. Never reached the heights of Endtroducing, but still a legend, even if he is permanently trying to sell you stuff. Watch out for a WalMart style merchandise section at the back on the night.

Apparently he’s between albums at the moment, so it’ll be a fairly fun mash up. The likelihood of seeing Stretch there is mostly dependent on my ability to find my favourite shades…They were last seen wandering around the village at 2.30 on Monday night. They were wearing a shiny blue Adidas hoodie, manky-grey tracksuit bottoms, a gold (not real gold) chain with the medallion saying WORD and may have been in the company of my black boots who were stark naked. If you come across these items, please beware, they are usually baked and you may not understand what they are trying to say to you. Godspeed!

Thought for the day: Lively Up Yourself or Ah dry up! (You choose)

The Theme from Don

Possibly the coolest thing I’ve ever heard. Every time it comes into my life, I think, nothing I will ever experience is gonna top this. kudos dudos

DJ Shadow Whoredom vs Pan Sonic Mind Fuck

Stretch Sneakers

What is yer Sole worth?

Is yer Sole worth this?

I get regular email from DJ Shadow.com selling me his songs, albums, clothing etc and I generally just hit delete because I’m too lazy to unsubscribe. Last night I got an email with the tagline “DJ Shadow x Reebok: What Does Your “Sole” Look Like? – Sneaker (Limited Edition)” and I went, “Say What?”

For those who don’t know, “What does you soul look like?” is a four part song on the albums Endtroducing… and Preemptive Strike. The Endtroducing… album is almost entirely sampled and one of Stretch’s favourite things ever. Lately Shadow has decided to become Sean fucking John (check out his website for laughs), which is okay, I suppose. He’s a businessman, no problem. But teaming up with a multinational shoe manufacturer Reebok, to produce a DJ Shadow sneaker, which looks poxy and doesn’t seem to have anything to do with Shadow? I don’t get it, there is a serious credibility issue here.

My friend MC Cog has a theory about music sponsorship that soon you will go to a gig and apart from only being able to get certain drinks, the performance will be a specifically marketed advertising campaign. The band will wear different t-shirts advertising the “product.” Flash advertising will be used as part of the visuals. As you leave the club, you will be given a shopping bag and a set of directions to the all night bar/mobile phone shop to continue on your night. Skin crawls, mind whirls, small vomit in the back of mouth.

I suppose DJ Shadow can do whatever the fuck he wants and seems like a forceful enough chap, but this, Josh, is not good. One experimental electronic duo who will never be asked to advertise anything¬† are these Finnish guys. Pan Sonic (formerly Panasonic) had to change their name because of it being similar to a Japanese electronics company. They are such fun. Here’s what Stretch experienced at one of their shows:

Ballantine Baines comes back from the bar to our booth with the drinks. I’m drinking Dark Rum and Ale chasers. He’s having Whiskey and Pimms….We are violently drunk. The club is half empty and sitting in the lounge style booths was pleasant and oddly erotic, who knows why?

I had listened to Pan Sonic’s 4-disc album Kesto and really liked the combination of all out industrial techno and gentle ambient soundscapes, so Stretch was looking forward to it. The place went dark and two strange-looking men walked on stage to a small table with a few electronic boxes and a lot of wires on it, and with a flick of a switch unleashed HELL.

The sound of a thousand saucepans clattering into each other melded into a sub-bass which got lower and lower and lower. I looked over at Baines and realised both of us had lost a layer of skin and developed Chelsea smiles. Grinning ferociously I moved my head slowly around and saw that some people had run out of the room screaming. People who do extreme sports don’t know shit. Ballantine nudged me,

“People who do extreme sports don’t know shit, man!”

I drank deep as my ears buzzed and my head shook and my brain wobbled. We got up and went to a side door for a cigarette. The deafening noise lessened slightly when we were outside. A bunch of people were, hands on hips, panting, saying things like “intense” and “need change of trousers.” It was nice there but we had to go back inside and face the endurance test that was going down.

Behind the men a vertical electronic pulse, for want of a better word, pulsed and hypnotised us.

“I-I-I-I-I-R-r-r-r-r-reeeeeeeeeeeee-l-l-l-l-l-lyyyyyyy ll-l-l-l-l-l-l-oooooov-v-v-v-v-th-i-i-i-s-s-s-s-s”

said Baines, his teeth chattering like a frozen bitch.

“M-m-m-m-m-m-e-e-e-e-e-t-t-t-t–o-o-o-o-o-oo-o”

said Stretch with a serious lack of fillings.

The music stopped, gig over. We all fell from the ceiling on to the floor, gasping for air. We had been thrown back through the gates of hell into the club. A metallic acid feeling burned in the back of my throat. My vision improved but not my hearing. We didn’t talk on the way out. We both knew we had transcended all life and reality and had become Supermen. Now was the time to fight the good fight and whoop ass on a global level. Thanks Pan Sonic.

Sorry for all that. To make you feel better, check out this link here. It’s not The Day Today or any spoof, this is real and y’know probably life-affirming depending what species you are.

http://www.wimp.com/wilddog/