Mark Resemble! Did yu miss th craziest motherfucker of th lot? Unfortunately, ditching th downgraded doppelgänger became a must. Oh we wuz all enthusiasm – th day of th rehearsal was th release/arrival of my new dbl album, more frenzy & perspiration intercepting x1000 copy dumps from residential proxies to drag back to th crypt, then loading th surgeons wrack for’ for, for’ th prodrome with th incoming consociation. All tingles & titubation at this stage, crash th op a lirrul’ late with nuts in knots, ensconce & roll out th ouja. Hey! Whats up with this fat wilting fuck Douche Moye? Like, major prickery? Somebodies got urchins in th rectum, what giveth? I met this washed-out-crease twice over th last two years, & he was initially absolutely cool, jovial even, until that is, we exchanged CD’s, then th guy just clammed up like a nuns node…aw shit! Not another case phenomena of terrified, resentful detractordom? A dawning deterioration started to uncoil its pulsing prolapse into what had been conceptually a very exciting scenario which I had been otherwise looking forward to… I watched in horror as it became apparent that th man with half th creative authority over th unfolding session demonstrated th worst example of decrepitude & terminal deflation I have ever witnessed in my life. Douche Moye is washed-over, belly-up & arse out – DEAD-IN-THE-FUCKIN-WATER!!! I ain’t never seen a greater paragon of how to age disgracefully. Its a crying’ shame, cos’ back in th day, Douche was a fine drummer, cutting planks wi’ th swiftness on some excellent numbers with & outside of AEOC. Art Ensemble stumbled into some dodgy territory in the 80’s for a moment, producing some poor quality records on Japanese label DIW that were a mockery of their former prestige. A lot of great musicians from th 60’s & 70’s succumbed to this hazard, with many never recovering from the diminishment & its subsequent entropy. Douche is one such casualty, got lost to this dreadful era & never recovered, he never shook th shitness & it clings to him in a solidified form to this very day like a wreath of fecal. Aside his polar opposite Roscoe, there were some very good musicians in session. Douche, by miles the most inferior musician present, was clearly petrified, but still retained executive privilege over his compositions (half th set or whatever). His insecurity stank & he acted like an anus to somehow counteract his screaming inadequacy. It was surreal – th weakest link ordering around his superiors. Even worse, his compositions were so rectal it beggared belief. Th kind of shit yu would expect from a pub band in th Australian outback, mf I wish I were joking! Th clown also instructed me specifically to play them as shit as possible, so shit songs played at optimal shitness! Unimaginably it got even worse, – Douche started pulling out “artificial African” material….th shit was so fucking grave, it bordered on racial stereotyping, I was actually shocked. Elton John’s ‘Lion King’ had more authenticity, it was absolutely appalling. I was snatching looks with Roscoe like, “bro! Are yu actually fucking serious?”. It was an extraordinary situation. I started to just observe from a sociological perspective – this absolutely ridiculous spectacle, insane, nonsensical, idiotic … it was fascinating to witness, like a pantomime. I took another African musician along to th drop (not th Douche dogshit ersatz falsified African version), he wanted nothing to do with that weak shit despite being persistently pressed by Douche to join tomorrows show at th Barbican. Later on in th event, when Roscoe resumed command, we did finally actually get to disembogue some shit worth th effort, th only saving grace to the flatliner. It was a necessary deturge after hours of conformist constipation & confinement. I went home with my furrows frothing at th whole multivalent madness & 3d-contradiction with every intention to follow through on th following days performance despite th massive down-scaling & deduction Douche Disney had shat over th potential furor. But in th early hours of th morning th apprehension & ruminations started…i noticed how I had literally zero enthusiasm about th impending droop, it was a chore to dust & dismiss with an endurance mentality. Also, I don’t want to be caught dead playing credibility corroding cack, & some of that shit was career-destroyingly cringesom, if not potentially ethnically insulting. Its a high profile show & I don’t need no clips of me online piddling ponce to a bunch of lemmings. & there it was, – no way could I go through with this fuckery! I had to withdraw on grounds of quality & I had to be candid about it. This revelatory certitude was accompanied by a great rush of relief. It wasn’t just th music, my discomfort about th venue was an additional tribulation. 25 quid a ticket? No one from th barrio then…playing to yuppies as part of a tired relic that still has brand-currency as part of kowtowing in th ashes of former glory from an over milked decade being rebranded for a few more units of showbiz – nah niggu, yu can go fuck yurselves! I’d sooner rather burn down th Barbican than play it, yer kno wo’ iym sayin’??? oh brother Mitchell? – He totally understood a young radicals actions. not in this for th cotton wool fukur. So not for th first time, I holstered th blade of integrity, zipped th smock & disappeared into tha rain! Th current machine hype around Art Ensemble’s exhumation should not detract that this group did some spectacular work in th 60’s & 70’s that’s been very dear to me long before th contemporary resuscitation, but I can’t endorse this spent force armchair shit, & yu kno it was really about those 5 guys, not a whole crew of coat-tail clingers parachuted into another mf’s pageant decades down th line. There is nothing revolutionary here any more. To all th youth out there, never do it for th money – that makes yu a prostitute & a coward with a worn ring – always take th moral option & fuck all sell outs!
Ragwort. Of all th places – & why not??? Bows & sparrows. Th ships prow, th bushman’s meander. Kash Killion of th Sun Ra Arkestra, Niles Asheber & Blakuhatsu intuition & sedition delve at random. Rain on th savanna.
Sorry cud-splay…I got my dates mixed up & had Kyrgyz crashing into Korea causing quite tha collision castratus el catastrophique? No! No! not those dates – th Art Ensemble eruption, its actually th 23rd. but by all means come on th 26th, & demand a rematch.
Iatric. Lounging on lotus at th monastery. some petals gliding on th gentle current type transfuse. We back in broadleaf & the forest is expanding ^0^
should be out next week. if not, certainly th following. th most unprecedented, consummate shit yu will hear in yur fucking lyf kiddd –
seven fugitives, six separate sessions, eleven tracks, two dizx, over two hours worth of intense combat & ultra high-quality connoisseur art/design/packaging. more once i dust th breynz off my dumb-bells.
Performing with the Art Ensemble of Chicago this month at th Barbican in London. Been a while since I got down in a large AACM scenario. Looking forward to it.
At last. after a month’s sedulous editing, the new NABEG LP – Economic Gain – Ecological Ruin has escaped its containment quarters. Derived from a live Animal Machine-Baku cross-contamination conflux in the fall of 2018, multiple excess outrage & amok apoplexy exclusives where antagonized from proscribed, full-contact, harsh maulers 886VG (Chile), Napalmed (Czech) & Animal Machine. Consolidating this cacophony was old, drop-dead-harsh, decommissioned explosive ordinance from veteran French frondeur Mourmansk150. Into this smolder strides the displaced Ukrainian noise guitarist Ilja Bilga. Lastly comes the political youth tumult pouring out of Hong Kong. The fervency, courage & distemper of the HK youth & their accompanying adult counterpart that have been raging has been sourced, suctioned & steeped throughout this recording from footage & audio supplied & extracted from ground zero. The running battles, the tear gas, the water cannons, the molotovs, the arrests, the bedlam & the full perfervid discord of a city/nation in direct, street based confrontation with opposing government forces. I knew this motherfucker was going to sink-the-structure, but the resulting remonstration & recusancy has completely exceeded my estimates. Over an hours’ worth of mind-splay encompassing ten tracks in total. No one & nothing comes even close.
Released on Lo-fi or Die Records on a silver cassette with individual bronze spray-paint daub, gold case, four panel sleeve, double-sided pull-out poster & extras, with art by Non-Negotiable-Notoriety, limited to 312 hand-numbered editions. Probably only available from the artists themselves as everybody else is selling their anus to some giant Silicon Valley corporate conquistador or Palantir assigned Mossad funded industry-interlope-Inc. inconvenience = independence.
Two month plus stasis from any practice/drumming – jumped on an available wreck without preparation & projected the primo-pyro-pandemonium with South-Am jungle-trails killer. Substantial deposits & follow up ambush with muchos body-count – a fat grip of beyond brimstone Scour Histrionics contumacy to undermine the governments emergency measures & leave the security services reeling. Hmmmm… another sub-label to serve this division. Cassette is on th wing with additional armory from Mourmansk150 (France), PMNT (Brazil), DND (Italy), Kylie Minoise (Scotland) & 886VG (Chile). Here’s some raw, untreated footage from th hit –
A semi-addendum to the coinciding double album No Justice = Justification – Revolt Against State Sponsored Stockholm Syndrome – this raw & lo-fi cassette includes the exclusive culmination of Concussion Projectile Trio’s 2018 live effloresce at Acklam Village joined by activist-upstart-ustad & old time Baku associate & Sankofa OG – Niles Asheber on vocals & African drum. A-side’s “Create Consequences” propels a 23 minute + of off-road trench-warfare civilian-justice-proconsul-vigilance dashing hard wild, militant, gracile Free Jazz dynamism. Ardent radical pedigree, savage breaks, leopard acrobatics, zero industry input (Gosh-Glut-Godastu-Disruptions unincorporated), this is no Shorditch-shit-suckery or the tepid-toss that dribbles from Roni Scots, Whoreflex or Pathe Twotto, recorded in a venue that was ‘repossessed’ & at times physically defended by community contingents in the wake of the Grenfell atrocity – this is no gloss, no fakery & superior creative fire-power from non-commercial agitators ripping through unrestricted vehemence & vanguard. Flip side has x3 cuts at just over 35 minutes as a duet between natty minstrel & the blacc-ghetto-mage – Kikanju Baku (ankle bells, ropey-ass cello-bass) & Niles Asheber (voice & vengeance) performing exceptionally powerful free-style spoken-word concerning the struggles against LBKC & local inferiorities & ongoing Grenfell redemption. The account is acute, including graphic recollections of the night the tower conflagrated (the narrator was a front-line witness at the scene of the crime). This cassette includes the two tracks that make the Double CD, albeit with different mixes & editing along with a 3rd exclusive track (the last of the session) “Trouble Waters” which, along with “Create Consequences” only features on this edition.
Four panel sleeve with full-colour artwork courtesy of Non-Negotiable-Notoriety, gold cassette with hand-scoured decals in a black case, colour pull-out, limited to x111 hand numbered copies & released on Erst-While-Antrum (EA #24). Ten trillion% passion, autonomy & connoisseur recalcitrance, fuck all th other insider, buttock-talcum-powder subjugation shit-smudge.
Concussion Projectile Trio was a wild as fuck entirely improvised Avant-Jazz &-then-some splinter-cell comprising Kikanu Baku- Luke Stewart & Chris Pitsiokos. Bare knuckle, deep end, take no prisoners effusion & hysteria with effects pedals, MPC manipulation, Noise & electronic dalliance, improvised instruments, & a pantheon of ditties & dalliance on a sweeping gamut of percussion & African & Far East traditional instruments (Dai Fut Loi, San Shin, Pipa, Yuen Chin, Gongs, Wood Blocks, Bells, Chimes, hand drums & so on). Guaranteed no pussies no plastics & no prosthetics.
So th mastering sluts are dragging their webbed-limbs somewhat – but actually, the hour is close at hand. There is such a wealth of material, that it’s going to be a double disk, combining strategic seriations of both units/sessions. Two impetuous intrepidations from 2018 with the Concussion Projectile Trio (Kikanju Baku – Chris Pitsiokos – Luke Stewart) & Condign (Baku -Ignacio Ruz/886VG – Maddd Swun Hua). Concussion Projectile are electric bass/double bass/MPC/pedals (Stewart), saxophone, FX pedals (Pitsiokos) & drums/percussion (Baku) – though we all play a muchos-myriad of sprawling percussive cournucouplings, bells, blocks, gongs, weird cymbals, animal chimes, ancient arcane oriental/afro oddities plus some san-xin, cello.
Condign condemn all corrupt White House shit-snufflers with ultra-harsh noise, apoplectic castigation-scream-spume & berserk excoriation suffusion. I managed to secure the additional intervention on the longest Condign cut of a particularly potent ‘guitar noise’ acetic from NY known as Reg Bloor. Her submission is of extraordinary ferocity & cranks something that is already so over-driven into positively obscene over-spiral. Recorded between five different venues, with massively varying equipment, instruments, acoustics & engineers.
Will be released on Ethnicity Against the Error in some deluxe & heterodox packaging with unrestrained design as it does not need to pass any externally imposed political criterion or propriety paradigm that conforms to industry assignment. Omnivorous & profusely eclectic, the material revises major elaborations & radical skewings of variegated Avant Jazz alongside dramatic expeditions into the molten unknown with Stridor, Farrago, Noise and extraterrestrial extravagance erupting into kinetic esoteric futurism on some recalcitrant rampage of retaliatory recondite after-burn.
Won’t be available on/through I-tunes, Amazon, Bandcamp, Big Cartel or any other instant, commercial, convenient, billionaire fuck-face, culture vacuuming free-market shit-skewer & slave-driving, off-shoring, intrusive excrement Inc. imposter imbecile obtusion outlet. If yu can’t dig – yur going to die (in chains).