Women

1. Bahamadia - Uknowhowwedo (Ski Mix)
2. Ursula Rucker feat. Mad - 7
3. T-Love feat. Dwele - Seven
4. Red Astaire - Rollin' Stone
5. Ursula Rucker - What A Women Must Do
6. Willis - Talk To Me (Brooks' Linguist Remix)
7. Directions - Busted Trees (Carl Craig Remix)
8. Roisin Murphy - Night of the Dancing Flame
9. Ursula Rucker - Circe

Russell Jones

The voice, the man, the legend, the one, the only... Rusty Ratchet Jones...

"You're taking the piss out of me aren't you"

Gypsy Boy

Just finished 1st AD'ing a music video for My Bad Sister's track 'Gypsy Boy'. The shoot was serious fun and I met some incredible people. The costume and make-up was phenomenal. Here's some set photography I took...

Disco Mix

A little two track mix I put together of disco gems 'Next To You' by DJ Harvey and 'Fire In My Heart' by Escape From New York...

Winter Mix

1. The Shining (Film Sample)
2. Actress 'Maze'
3. Attica Blues 'What Do You Want'
4. La Haine (Film Sample)

Albums of 2010

Favourite albums of 2010. In no particular order...

Joanna Newsom 'Have One On Me'

Baths 'Cerulean'

Beach House 'Teen Dream'

Deerhunter 'Halcyon Digest'

Ariel Pink's Haunted Graffiti 'Before Today'

Wavves 'King of the Beach'

Caribou 'Swim'

7"

Clearing out the loft space and I came across a beautiful sight...

Christmas came early! I'm now in the process of cleaning and listening to each one. There's loads of Motown classics in there. Love the Motown sleeves...

I might be able to break into the competitive Wedding DJ circuit with this lot. I've already dug out some real gems. Among my favourites...

Linda Lewis - It's In His Kiss...

Petula Clark - The Other Man's Grass (Is Always Greener)...

The House of the Devil

If, like me, you're a fan of Horror films but over the years have become increasingly disillusioned with the genre, what with the spate of ridiculous remakes and teen slashers, then you could do a lot worse than to watch a little independent film called The House of the Devil (Directed by Ti West).

Ashamedly, I'd never heard of it until last night when I was browsing the dusty shelves of my local Blockbuster (of which, this particular branch is an ever depressing place, forever empty and reeking of loneliness... but enough of my Thursday night). As per usual, I found myself getting angry at the majority of pathetic films on display and was all but ready to jack it in, go home and get something on pay per view. That was at least until this diamond in the rough exposed it's pert little self to me...

It was only the other day that I was wondering why nobody makes Horror films like they used to during the late 70's and 80's anymore? By that I mean films that take their time to buildup some real tension instead of rushing headlong into a tedious, cliche ridden plot. Most Horror films these days seem to want to make the audience piss themselves during the opening thirty seconds and then attempt to supply a cheap 'jump' every 6 minutes thereafter. This film trades in those obvious techniques and opts instead for dreadful anticipation, there's no instant gratification here, the audience is in for the long game.

Although it was only made in 2008 it looks like it's straight out of the 80's. This is pure retro homage, and they've pulled it off superbly. The score is brilliant too, really capturing the time period and tone of the film very well. This moment in particular is great and very creepy in its correct context, featuring a tune by The Fixx. It's a great sequence, she can move too...

Although House of the Devil isn't the scariest film out there, I respect it for not pandering to the expectations of the Multiplex audience and for not conforming to the conventions of recent slashers. It uses suggestion and suspense over all-out gore, it's a real slow-burner. Fans of Rosemary's Baby will not be disappointed.

So, if you're looking for a good, intelligent Horror flick this Halloween, you can't go wrong with this. Here's the trailer to whet your appetite...

On a final note, it's worth watching it if only for the performance of the lead actress, Jocelin Donahue. She's one to watch I think.

The Motorcycle Boy Reigns

Just got round to watching Francis Ford Coppola's 1983 film Rumble Fish, I'd been meaning to catch it for years. Despite hearing from a trusted source that it was a great film, I was still pleasantly surprised at how good it actually was, considering how underrated it is.

I was particularly won over by the the performance of Mickey Rourke, of whom I've never been a huge fan. He plays a character known only as The Motorcycle Boy, a sombre and nonchalant character who delivers his lines in a slow, almost lackadaisical way which I found myself eagerly hanging on to every syllable for the meditative and considered thoughts he expresses. He really is as cool as a refrigerated cucumber.

The Motorcycle Boy: Even the most primitive of societies have an innate respect for the insane.

For me, The Motorcycle Boy comes across as a character in the same vein as James Dean's Jim Stark from Rebel Without a Cause. Alienated and discontent with the suburban life that everybody else seems happy enough to plod along with. Struggling to find meaning and attempting to live authentically, regardless of how counter-productive or 'insane' that may appear to be.

It's definitely a 'coming of age' movie, with the theme of growing up and time passing featuring prominently. Tom Waits' character, Benny, brilliantly puts youth into perspective when thinking of life in terms of how many summers remain...

Benny: Time is a funny thing. Time is a very peculiar item. You see when you're young, you're a kid, you got time, you got nothing but time. Throw away a couple of years, a couple of years there... it doesn't matter. You know. The older you get you say, "Jesus, how much I got? I got thirty-five summers left." Think about it. Thirty-five summers.

Tom Waits for no man...

There's also a great scene between Dennis Hopper and Matt Dillon, playing The Motorcycle Boy's Father and Brother, respectively...

Father: Every now and then, a person comes along, has a different view of the world than does the usual person. It doesn't make them crazy. I mean... an acute perception, man... that doesn't, that doesn't make you crazy.

Rusty James: Could you talk normal?

Father: However sometimes... it can drive you crazy, acute perception.

Rusty James: I wish you'd talk normal 'cause I don't understand half the garbage you're saying. You know? You know what I mean?

Father: No, your mother... is not crazy. And neither, contrary to popular belief, is your brother crazy. He's merely miscast in a play. He was born in the wrong era, on the wrong side of the river... with the ability to be able to do anything that he wants to do and findin' nothin' that he wants to do. I mean nothing.

The burden of Freedom.

The soundtrack was a real surprise too, composed by Stewart Copeland of Police fame. I've been hammering the main theme tune Don't Box Me In since I heard it. Tune...

A Tribute to Chip

Chip, Chippy, Sir Chipalot, Chipski, Chippin, Chip 'n' Pin, Pippin, Pipkin, Chripy, Frippy, Chipstick, Chipstickle.

I recently saw the brilliant short documentary called 'Last Minutes with Oden' and it moved me to tears, or at least a tear. It made me remember that often in life a lot of things are taken for granted and it's usually only through the loss of said things that we're made aware of this.

Check out the documentary...

It made me think of my dog Chip...

When trying to find out more about a person's character a question that is sometimes asked is whether they prefer dogs or cats. Like are you an Elvis or Beatles person? (See the deleted scene from Pulp Fiction...)

I'm more of a dog man myself and this quote pretty much sums up my stance on the issue...

Dogs have Owners, Cats have Staff.

There's been many dogs in my life. Now that I think about it, there's always been a dog for as long as I can remember. There's been Sandy (Labrador), Barny (Labrador/Staff cross), Jessica (Collie), Alfie, Molly and Harry (English Cocker Spaniels), Stanley (Jack Russell) and finally Chip (Jack Russell/Daschund cross). There was Kelly too, although not technically a Canine, she was a dog nevertheless, a bitch of the Stoke Newington breed if my memory serves me correctly.

Sandy was the first dog I remember, he belonged to my Nan and Granddad and, like them, Uncle Sandy was a genius, a true scholar of a dog.

Among other things, he knew when it was dinner time just by listening to what was on T.V. When the theme tune to Neighbors came on he got up and strolled into the kitchen. But the truly clever thing was that it was only on the sound of the closing credits that he got up. He distinguished between the beginning and ending of the programme, knowing full well that dinner would be served only when Neighbors had finished.

Never has a dog eaten so well. A funny thing about my Nan was that when dinner time was approaching we'd start smelling these wonderful aromas drifting in from the kitchen, like rich, thick gravy and perfectly steamed vegetables. Then she served it up... in Sandy's bowl! Only after Sandy was content with his lot would she start cooking our dinner, which was delicious nonetheless, but I always wondered how good a mouthful from Sandy's bowl would taste.

Sandy also had a bowl of tea in the morning and, being the gent that he was, he always smelt of the Hugo Boss aftershave Elements. I later figured out that the only explanation for this was that it had rubbed off from my Granddad's hands. I was bitterly disappointed that Sandy didn't apply the cologne himself.

I've since tried to find Elements but I think its been discontinued. The closest I've come to smelling something similar is Dior's Fahrenheit, which I was once given as a birthday present in my early teens and now evokes memories of swings, cider and B&H Gold. Elements was a lot more subtle (and nicer) but I guess it has the same base ingredient.

Probably better that I don't smell it anyway, I'd probably have another relapse into childhood. Like when I smelt marzipan for the first time since nursery school, but that's another story for another day.

When from a long-distant past nothing subsists... the smell and taste of things remain poised for a long time... and bear unfaltering, in the tiny and almost impalpable drop of their essence, the vast structure of recollection.

Marcel Proust, The Remembrance of Things Past

Take 26

The older we get, with each passing year, to say 'oh, this year went so fast', 'it will just be a quiet one this year' or 'it doesn't even feel like it's my birthday' becomes, ever increasingly, a cliche, the thing to say.

Why doesn't it feel like it? Is it simply as selfish a thing as not getting as many presents as we used to when we were children?

Partly I think.

It's increasingly rare that I'm genuinely surprised by a birthday present. Now it's like orchestrating the present giving myself. Being asked what I want has been the bane of recent birthdays, the struggle to think of something that I want and yet something I've not actually wanted enough to buy myself.

Next year I'm going to tell anyone who asks me what they should buy me to just think about me for one minute and make a decision about what they think I want, to ask themselves what do they want me to have. I think that will bring the surprise element back into presents and add a sentimentality that is sometimes lacking.

Ultimately, I never want to receive money in an envelope again. (Unless I'm wearing a pastel blue suit, sitting at a shaded table of a rooftop terrace in Cote d'Azur and am handed a large brown Manilla envelope by a foot runner sent by the Havanan drug cartel).

This probably seems very ungrateful. I'm not ungrateful, I just want birthdays to be less about the material value of a present and more about its meaning. There's just something so impersonal about receiving money in a card.

I understand that since I stopped collecting Thundercats memorabilia its been hard to buy for me. Good news is I've recently put my collectable Star Wars figures into cryonic storage and so have a space on my shelf to begin afresh. Between you and me, I'm more and more interested in the early GI Joe figurines, circa 1984 (hint for next year).

Looking at the above image does make me wish there was something that could get me as pant-shittingly excited as I used to about opening toys.

Aside from presents though, I think there's something else that compels us to underplay birthdays as we get older. And that's simply just the passing of time and not wanting to recognize or fully bring to light the fact that, according to the Roman calendar, we are one year older.

Why do we need to measure our lives like this, crossing out years with each passing birthday. What true significance does it have?

I messed around a fair bit when I was in secondary school. Particularly in chemistry (no pun intended). But the most valuable thing I think I could of learnt in that lesson was just a passing remark said off the cuff by my teacher (as we were leaving the class room I think) and it hit my infantile little mind like a lightning bolt. It's about the only thing I've ever remembered from that class. He said...

time is just a conceptual notion which we use to measure our own existence

For me that line is like poetry. It shatters the illusion of a structured, ordered, manageable universe that man can understand and control. It evokes the idea of measuring time as being a futile and tyrannical thing to do, typical of a species that wages global wars with one another.

I'm not such a purist as to think that we should abandon the idea of time altogether. It's a necessity for farming to have a system of harvest. But that's just seasonal. The natural calendar of seasons.

Our time on the other hand, by that I mean manufactured time, the clock that we live our lives to, is like a dictatorship. It shackles, constrains and imprisons what we call time into little cells of hours, minutes, seconds, split seconds, nano seconds etc.

It makes me wonder if viewing the world like this has had an impact on our own minds. Does the breaking down of time into sections affect the way our minds work? Has the evolution of the human mind been affected, or even, is it being affected by the categorization of time?

Imagine what the impact would be if we removed the clock from our lives. Of course, initially, the world would be in turmoil. Everything would collapse.

But eventually civilization could rebuild itself and humans might be able to live simply, by day and by night, and according to the four seasons, independent of the tyranny of clocks.

Just a thought.

Regarding the birthday presents of childhood again... Although I don't really collect Thunderbirds memorabilia and was merely jesting about wanting to collect GI Joe figures, I do yearn for this object still. Someone in my house threw it away years ago, discarded it like ordinary household trash...

Yes, Lion-O's Sword of Omens.

Thunder... Thunder... Thunder... Thundercats... Hoooooooo!

Stone cat

We once had a cat. She was this funny sloth-like thing. She never rushed anywhere and I can scarcely remember her running, even when she was young. She’d just wobble along, constantly finding her balance and prodding at the floor with her paws, as if she were making sure it was steady ground and safe to walk on. Her name was Flubber.

When she was outside and wanted letting in she used to stand on the backdoor step, look up at my bedroom window and call to me… by name. ‘Jaaaames’. She was a clever cat.

Obviously it wasn’t as clearly defined as what the human vocal chords can produce but she made a really good effort at it. I pointed it out to my friend L. and he could clearly hear ‘Jaaaames’ too. We still laugh about it to this day.

I think that over the years she had heard my Dad calling me from downstairs and had copied him. Although rather than telling me there was a cup of tea waiting for me down here, she just wanted letting in.

She was a beautiful Persian cat, although she had her bad hair days and needed a lot of grooming. On a good day she’d look like this…

But on a bad day…

The picture above is what she looked liked when we found her. We rescued her (well, my Dad did- I was only about seven) from the woods behind my Nan & Granddad’s house. I found her hanging by her tail from barbed wire. Although her coat padded her out she was actually just a bag of bones, another day or two and she’d of been a goner. My Dad had to cut some of her tail off to get her lose, she didn’t like that but it had to be done.

We decided to keep her. She lived a long time with us, at least ten years. She was a proper house cat but no wonder she didn’t want to go out much, she’d had her fair share of danger hanging from barbed wire staring death in the face. She'd spend most of her time either at my Dad’s feet or sun bathing on the garden patio, which is where she eventually passed away.

I’ll never forget the time that she almost gave me a heart attack. It was late at night and I went into my sister’s bedroom to turn off her light. As soon as I flicked the switch I saw a pair of huge glowing eyes staring at me from the other side of the window. I immediately thought of the film Salems Lot…

Needless to saw it was only Flubber. She’d somehow managed to get stuck on the roof underneath my sisters bedroom window.

The reason I got thinking about old Flubber was because of the mysterious stone cat that has recently turned up in my garden…

No one in my family knows where it came from. It seems to have just appeared one day.

I’ll leave a saucer of milk out for it tonight.