Vinyl Cut Prose: “Home,” Jess Glynne

A.V Hub, Soundtrek, TK:LA, Vinyl Cut Prose

British tones. Angeles tempos. That’s the point. That you can come to the light amidst darkness, create an echo in the silence. Basilisk beats, She wanders. Homeward-bound, London found in lost Angeles.

Visceral. The vocals emerge from serpent strings, Valkyries returned on ravens wings, crooning tales to be told of once-lived dreams. Jess sings the blues of a sapient soul found in barren canyons of scarred star-trails. The lyrical lens navigates mood and melody, the narrative unfolds within spliced vignettes – into the Pacific Channel on angels we arrive, through the lostlands and Sunset, emerged from neon aquatic.

Tone and timbre, tears and tempos; bricks and mortar for the rhythms we inhabit as our own. Letting go of what you didn’t know you had, that is what this finds with home.

Unofficial Best of London’s LoveBox 2012 Festival – Sunday Set

Soundtrek, Uncategorized

Historically, music festivals like Woodstock and Glastonbury were created to celebrate idealism (one ‘ism that we agree is worth buying into). Lovebox is no different. Add to this idealism the inclusiveness that you find on the best dancefloors and the diversity you find on our capital’s streets and you have the beginnings of a manifesto for a world-class festival in a world-class city.

Ten years old Lovebox has grown up quickly to become the biggest party on East London’s summer calendar and with every year it takes another step forward.

Sunday is a freewheeling, groundbreaking, no-holds-barred party, pulling together elements of the fiercest all-night parties, ballrooms, gay discos, supper clubs, cabarets and bingo-halls and mixing it with recycled couture, the hottest emergent artists and, of course, outrageous acts to create a totally unique hedonistic all-dayer which is most definitely Out & Out Fierce…

Out and Out … and out, and out, and out #ofcontrol

Unofficial Best of London’s LoveBox Festival 2012 – Saturday Set


Historically, music festivals like Woodstock and Glastonbury were created to celebrate idealism (one ‘ism that we agree is worth buying into). Lovebox is no different. Add to this idealism the inclusiveness that you find on the best dancefloors and the diversity you find on our capital’s streets and you have the beginnings of a manifesto for a world-class festival in a world-class city.

Ten years old Lovebox has grown up quickly to become the biggest party on East London’s summer calendar and with every year it takes another step forward.

Saturday follows the tried and tested Lovebox model of curating a heady mix of international megastars, pop-cult legends, hipper than thou rockers and underground club collectives. Heart and soul, rock and roll.

Unofficial… because the view from the crowd puts you right in the pit #orsomethingtothateffect

Stooshe, Sabre, Sande, and Kelis… Girl Pop that won’t give you cavities, rough-around-the-edges neo-soul crooner with a tinge of Legend tone on the tongue, the heavenly neuroscience student whose rhythm transcends the merely cerebral – and, of course, the acapella milkshake distributor #bawsey

BlinkkStreet: Mint Street Park, London SE1


I’ve come to love London a bit more each day. Coming from America, there’s a certain history to the Anglophilic streets that eludes most Stateside cities. Regardless of how wonderful and fresh the new, now, next – it’s the pastiche of the past and gifted present which makes those certain renowned locales truly worthy of any world citizen’s presence. London is one of those cities that appears to be a living, breathing convergence of old, now, and new. I love New York, I live New York to this day – but there’s something about London… the subtle signatures of the city scape that make it impossible to turn away.

Take South London. It’s a far cry from the casual cosmopolitan Notting Hill of the North. It’s nowhere near as “Yeah, we go to Manero’s – we know Manero. No – there’s no Manero,” as East London’s Shoreditch, Hoxton, or Dalston. I don’t exactly know what entails West London, but South London is clearly not the prime locale for fifth terminals, premiere football leagues, or posh pads. This is why I love South London – SE1 Sowfeese to be exact. It’s a neighborhood: we’ve got Morley’s Chicken and Chips #backbypopulardemand, we’ve got pachyderms and palaces, we’ve got Waterloo, Southbank, and Borough High, we’ve got the BFI Imax – which is basically a cinema in the sky.

Here’s a view of bits and pieces of the nooks and niches that make London a makeshift home for me.

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First up: Mint Street Park, and some eponymously fresh playground art…

Night in the Sweyepe: Talk in Colour, Floripa, Shoreditch, UK

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The Sirens: Talk in Colour (Chris Bangs – Cello and electronics, Dave Oliver – Drums, Kat Arney – Harp, Mary Erskine – Vocals and keyboards, Nick Siddall – Guitar)

The Stump: With a growing reputation for blistering live shows combining dirty bass lines with impressive musicianship, Talk In Colour launched their new album, Colliderscope, with a party at Floripa in east London on Wednesday 23rd May. By turns dark then uplifting, slipping effortlessly between pure instrumentals and vocal driven tracks, Talk In Colour defy easy categorisation. It’s no surprise that the band cite influences as far ranging as Lamb, Battles, The XX and Berlin-era Bowie, with a nod to Afrobeat and Alice Coltrane along the way. Together, the band blends electronic and organic instrumentation into a blistering aesthetic.

The Scene: When East London met fogo de chao – not the churrascaria, but the fire on the ground: Floripa…

SnappScenes: “No Church in the Wild,” The Throne

A.V Hub, TK:LDN, Vinyl Cut Prose

The Throne… Black Jesus walks in the wild… Where there is no church, just a primal society of spectacular sinners in the magnificent monde a la mode… Amen fashion… London is looting, Paris is burning, New York is occupied, victors are vilified, and the beasts are the beautiful beacons of a new world… Postcolonial cultural institutions, Neo-capitalism beneath the civilly disobedient liberated lady, soundtracks run through the veins and veneer of a blind Justice Judy… Mitochondrial thieves, sons of Reagan’s mythological Welfare Queens, tears on the mausoleum floor, lies on the lips of a priest… Faustus grants voices, viles of victorious libations, and a hand to grasp to the thug’s prayers reached…. Human beings to a mob, what’s a mob to a king, what’s a king to a god, what’s a god to a non-believer who don’t believe in anything… #preach

December 22, 2011

Night in the Sweyepe: fIN at Bush Hall, London, UK

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The Sires: fiN (Jonny Garner – guitar, Simon Harding – drums, Luke Joyce – vocals, Kerry Lambert – bass)

The Stump: fiN played London’s Bush Hall Wednesday for the release of new single ‘Twenty Three/Eve’ on 16th April on Artisan Records. Debut single ‘The Artisan’, an almost entirely instrumental track which blends the epic darkness of Radiohead and the rock frenzy of Foo Fighters, brought fiN early adopters and began their quick succession of sell-out live shows. Second single ‘Rapture/Everybody Dies Alone’ followed earning the band glowing reviews and a packed out single launch at The Borderline.

The Scene: fiN navigted somewhere between the English Channel and the Pacific Ocean – possibly Route 66. Wednesday night in Shephard’s Bush LDR-esque oversaturated vintage Golden State reels bathed the porcelain walls of Bush Hall’s Victorian backing. Beneath chandeliers and a disco ball, heavy rich drums and lingering electric riffs drowned the tailored crowd in deliciously dense melodic metallic sound. fiN doesn’t have a bad side, or a bad angle. and they look like they sound – a meticulously motley crew of rocker types – grungy beach types, devil-may-care band with a James Dean-esque frontman donning Uncle Jesse hair #wontbehave

The Sound: There’s endless love coasting along relentless rock hearkening to a freshly aged sound as golden as the beaches liberating the backdrop. Then there’s the depths as the waves crash along the proverbial shore. Pieces of the gig draw me back to Atlanta backwoods drives… damp pine-filled aromas lingering along with the beautifully ominous sounds of The Deftones… Ivory vapors of sound as tangible as the aural White Pony was eargasmic. Ever the crowd-pleasers and cognizant audiophiles, fiN covered The Talking Heads’ “Once in a Lifetime.” “This is not my beautiful house,” vocals faded as the tone turned nostalgic from the vantage of a frontman living out every boy’s dream of being a rockstar. Childhood videos replaced Sixties propaganda films, pinup Hollywood captures, and black-and-white media clips that would make even Bernays and McLuhan blush at their own brainchildren come to life. Ushering out the political with the personal past, the aural artisans displayed a return to individuality over industry, within some capacity. “You don’t know yourself, lucky you…” closing mullings from maestros projecting shadows of a nostalgia never known, perhaps a most fitting foothold for a British Indie band on the brink.

There’s a touch of Fool’s Gold in between the Let’s-Muse-About-When-Radiohead-Fought-Foo sounds, glossed with a definite sense of Pop-Rock Yellowcard/Sum-41 feel, with some strong Alien Ant Farm undertones – an easily familiarizing American sound for an English band.

They dig their fans. They have the look. They’re kind of like if Skrillex met Lana del Ray.

Watch This Space: When “Life is Wasted on the Living” played out to archived clips of everyone from Richard Pryor and Freddie Mercury, to Princess Diana and Winston Churchill… As Joyce stood in an image not unlike Peter Petrelli – beyond pixie blonde bombshells, social architects, and Dean the Causeless Rebel himself – the crowd too believed, for a second, that we can all be rockstars; we can all be heroes.

Live-Fi: Florrie – HMV’s Next Big Thing, Barfly Camden, London

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Pop. Out. My. Ears. #yes

The Siren: Florrie Arnold

The Scene: Snow, ice, pints, and Summer Nights… on the outside: London’s first snow of the year, on the inside: the strobed sublime of HMV’s Next Big Thing – snowballs and disco balls make for a splendid sonic nightcap. Roughly speaking, Barfly hosted a beautiful melange of art gallery purveyor types, thirty-something Euro/Dance Pop aficionados, twenty-something knit hooded hipsters, Camden characters, low-key Diesel-and-cardigan donning Pop fiends, raven-haired East London teens… moustaches, brown leather satchels and black rimmed glasses, cocktail dresses, red lipstick and suede heels, scarves and sailor stripes… On the floor: an Anglophilic audience with a distinct taste for Xenomania; at the helm: a doe-eyed, denim-donning neo-disco diamond in the rough behind a pulsing pokerface bluff, and the beat of her own drum #litrally

The Sound: All the best bits of Brit-and-Synth-Pop – period. Much like a fine wine, or the Fugees break-up, Florrie’s stint as an unsigned artist yields a product that gets better with time. Saturday’s set list covered her relatively brief back solo catalogue, spanning both her Introduction (“Left too Late,” “Summer Nights,” “Give Me Your Love“) and Experiments (“Begging Me,” “I Took A Little Something,” “Experimenting with Rugs,” “What You Doing This For”) EPs, and throwing some new tracks in the mix (“Without A Trace,” “Go“).

A Few of My Favorite Things… 2011: London


From Amy and Adele, to Riots and Rupert, with William somewhere in the Middleton, London was the City that kept it trill in 2011… the rhyme and reason for the subtly subwoofed season at the beacon of fringe culture and on the brink of collapse… London Bridge is falling down, and because of that it wears the crown… Prince William ain’t do it right if you ask thee, if I was him I woulda sprayed the town with Banksy…

Night in the Sweype: Toro Y Moi, The Relentless Garage, Highbury, London

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The Sire: Chaz “Toro Y Moi” Bundick

The Sound: Chillwave/Eighties Synth-Funk

The Scene: The Relentless Garage, Highbury, London, UK

Toro Y Moi graced East London with the infectious sounds of his South Carolinian synth-wave swelter on Wednesday at Canonbury’s Relentless Garage. The venue packed 600 people in a mingling of Red Stripes and sailor stripes: yuppies, hipsters, blipsters, iPhone photographers, and Instagrandmas on sway in a hazy hole-in-the-wall. The mood was mellow, the bassline ebb, beasted, flowed, and bellowed, as Chaz Bundick brought his signature Southern Hipstertality to Highbury.

Night in the Sweype: Little Boots “Shake” Launch Party – London

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The Siren: Victoria “Little Boots” Hesketh

The Sound: Neo-Disco Electro-synth Brit-Pop

The Scene: Black and Gold, Blue-eyed synth soul… Lights, Camera, Passion in an East London Secret Warehouse… Half rave cave, half Factory foyer… Shake it ’til you make it, then make it shake… While you’re at it: shake it ’til your heart breaks and deluges limitless sonic sublime across the scape…

Night in the Sweyepe: Red Hot Chili Peppers & Fool’s Gold Live at The O2

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Standin’ in line to see the show tonight, and there’s a light on… heavy glow; by the way, I tried to say I’d be there… waiting for…

November in Britain: cold, dark, a tad bit secluded… but at the end of the day, there’s nothing more electrifying than a Chili night in London…

Re-Branding America: Jersey Shore no more, LDN gets it in-nit


Bringing Ad a Day back like a phoenix from the ashes… much like the fleur-de-lis did this year; naturally, in an effort to polish the once lost treasure, New Orleans made it clear – with advertisements like the one below – they have a keen focus on waste management… read: after Mark “Brownie Hell-on-Earth of a Job” Brown got done with us we know what trash looks like – so take that rif-raff back to Jersey where you found it

The Gold Post: 100 Kept


Finally, the century mark. It’s times like this when you recap to the beginning and where it all began. So: a playlist paying tribute to where it always begins — home. (Actually, I stumbled across “City is Mine,” and decided to put together a city playlist. It just so happened to be The Dime’s 100th post, and all the cities are hometowns — thus the easy spin about where it begins.) Either way, enjoi

Starting at the top of the map with an ode to our Neighbors to the North — compliments of their most hyped export since Jimmy Brooks