The sun may have been shining over parts of this haunted isle of ours for the last few days, but that hasn’t stopped Winter’s icy grip from loosening up it’s stranglehold on us all which actually hasn’t been all that bad considering here at XXJFG towers we’ve been bathing in a gloriously seasonal, pixelated bath of wind chilled, aquamarine techno sounds, that very easily could have been blown in through our doors by the North Sea Gods of yesterday themselves. Transplanting the elegant Berlin tech warehouse sound to the Arctic plains, Staffan Lindberg and his White Week conjures up a fractal crystal gazer-dance of lone wanderers whipped into a tense, quiet frenzy, their body heating slowly rising to bring the party down inside a cavernous ice fortress, causing each drop of water that melts from the ceiling to echo through huge hallways as they hit the ground like glass tears.
In it’s original incarnation In For The Kill is a passable piece of tinny 80s pastiche pop which is pretty much a take it or leave it proposition. Given over to Heartbreak and it’s transformed into a pulsating piece of ghost disco, handing La Roux a pair of white eyed snow foxes and sending her on her way into frosted forests, her voice quavering and drifting through swathes of beautiful holographic trees reverberating with digital glow, creating an impressively mechanised sound akin to how italo might have sounded if it had been cultivated in tribute to the spirits of Valhalla beneath the aerial majestics of the Aurora Borealis by waif like girls buried in polar bear skins, instead of beneath black and gold discoballs in a coke storm of Armani clothed gigolos and cracked English glamazons clutching Casios like handbags.
If you like dancing, swaying, crawling, rocking back and forth like a wailer in a temple, we have a few things coming up where you can do all those things while we play you some records.
First up we’ll be hosting So Bones, a dance party of Cash Money beats, robo-siren songs, spacehopper soul, screwed & chopped, and everything else in between. Basically you’ll be hearing some Cassie, a little bit of The Dream, alot of Shawty Redd, and all those Ciara tunes no one will get round to releasing. You wont be hearing any fucking Akon. Edwin from Foals will be exorcising his “B-girl at the back of the bus” fantasies by honouring us with a DJ set. Hopefully it will be sweaty.
The next day you’ll find us playing all kinds of horrible deathly sex noise (think The Anal Staircase) at Can’t You Want To hosted by the rather awesome Charleigh Blue and Lauren Chillhard. No Bra will also be performing her fluffy like barbwire girly-pop which will obviously be all kinds of big fun…