Tuesday, September 26, 2006  2:24 am 

Let’s have a big 20jazzfunkgreats love-in

That’s what you thought cunts.

Apologies for the expletive, but I just got up early in the morning to pick up a parcel from the post office, I was expecting some fancy delivery from a place far away, the scent of adventure and an exotic disease, perchance, but do you know what I received instead? Rejoice in my misery and avenge my insult, laugh cruelly when you hear my words, I tell you, I queued for half an hour so that the lovely postino could inadvertently hand me a shit promo 12 inch of some washed out punk band remixed by some washed out techno DJ (let’s not name names). Whoever is sending me this stuff, just, STOP. It’s not funny, these things hurt, spiky bills are grievous enough, I don’t need the ‘friendly mail’ to stink like a corpse left to rot under the bed.

Anyway, the press release says it is a mighty post punk rave sledgehammer of a cut, which as everyone knows is what 20JFG is about. Well, at least they got something right, we love sledgehammers, and if you wonder why I’m sweating now is because I applied one to the promo. Forcefully. Now it is abstract music.

This enlightening experience has made me worry about the depletion of the Scandinavian vinyl forests, and also wonder, in one of those occasional fits of whimsy and wist, about the sort of stuff I’d like to receive in the post, in a fantastic world of happy pipe puffing leprechauns doing a jig on top of a golden tombstone, treasure chests full of naughty pirate kittens brandishing tiny wee scimitars and delirious dervishes pirouetting in joyous abandon without ever dropping their silken fancy embroidered turbans, this is what’d receive…

Open the garish envelope made of a colour which doesn’t exist and even if it existed it could not be thought of so it could not be remembered so every new gaze upon it would be a blinding surprise, and outwards marches a diminutive lego band that doesn’t even say hi, it sets up its battered battery powered equipment on top of the table and destroys the sonic balance with a burst of dissonant spazznoise J-Pogo.

Melt Banana- Snake Song

Melt banana have built a high tech Nintendo 5” dentist phazer with only one setting, ZAP, if you don’t know what I’m talking about then you ain’t listening loud enough. The sort of people we like jerk to this, their joints become Rubik cubes sliding and grinding hysterically in the geometrical centre of a sci-fi discotheque, imagine the beautifully smooth movements of kraftwerk robots doing their ‘worship the power generator’ thing, and now imagine the opposite, you are there. Crash the power generator and power, it’s all for the win.

Check out those sirens of antiRave doom. And the Damned. Brap. God bless HG Fact.

A black box full of potential, if Willy Wonka manufactured pooterchips they would come in this sort of package, with titanium prize tickets inside granting you access to the Galactic Patrol spaceship factory. As it is, it contains a small and mysterious metal cylinder. Fast forward a week into the future, another black box with strange mechanical contents. The week after, another box, and so on, until 314.1516 days after when the last parcel arrives, an envelope with the holographic instructions to assemble a robotic version of Prince using the components you have received. Fuck Simian, now you’ll never be alone again.

John Davis- Flashcan

We were looking for a bad brother to that sweet mother Sally Shapiro that enamoured us some time ago, and now it has arrived, the legendary John Davis has brought the baddest ass chrome sexdroid to ever destroy an electric boogaloo dancefloor all the way from 1984, in a pimped out neon delorean, no less. All for your body-popping enjoyment. Imagine the beautifully smooth movements of kraftwerk robots doing their ‘worship the power generator’ thing, and now imagine it horny, you are there. Sex the power generator and power, it’s all for the win

Included in the cybotronic synth rocking Flashcan compilation released by lovely Citinite Records.

Disclaimer- Some people sends us super-nice stuff and we love them so much we have bizarre hallucinations at night in which we imagine outlandish ways of rewarding them, we seriously hope they receive our telepathic kisses & hugs & high fives.

labels >> xxjfg

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