No Man’s Land begins by rocking like an agitated sine wave back and forth, swinging a brilliant white keytar programmed by a balding shapeshifting genius. Or maybe it mainlines Stay straight from the source, allowing that strange heroine/alien mojo that Dave found in the depths of the FDR to surge through its veins. Either way…
Bursting forth with a droning, lackadaisical klaxon rippling through the heavens, I’m Willing to Stagger twists and distorts its tape delayed harmonium into something completely off-worldly. Mind Over Mirrors has managed to recreate that lost La Monte Young soundtrack to the birth of the universe. A huge pounding piece of processional music that locks you…
There are moments of haze and dislocation that punctuate the days of this 20JFG scribe. Days stretched to interminable limits at the ‘mill’ of our personal corporate overlords. It is of course to be expected that the escape afforded by the sweet sounds of summer would particularly appeal in the schizophrenic depths of a British…
20JFG recently caught wind of a new production going down in Hollywood, based on its scurrilous life and times. With a working title of ‘The Music Blog’ (changed swiftly from ‘Those Bastards in the Ivory Tower’) – the movie is a somewhat defamatory, quasi fictional account of the much maligned reportage portal’s rise to power. Conceived as a biting analysis…
(Image by Natsuo Noma via the infallible 50 Watts) Thank you Cindy, nice tiara by the way, really loving the mystic look! It seems that the Summer doesn’t want to get started yet. Heavy winds and some rain in Brighton – not great if you want to picnic in the beach, but a total blast…
As some of you may know, 20JFG’s recently recruited belligerent Sci- Fi dinosaur – Preston G. Parallax – is also something of an armchair academic. Allegedly, he was one of the pioneering forces behind the emerging field of Psuedo-musicology – holding an MAPhil in the subject from the Open University. Lauded by the forces of regular Musicology as…
The Mediterranean 20jazzfunkgreats scribe has learned to ignore his brother’s recommendations at his own peril. They tend to be made in rather terse terms, in this case, ‘you should check out Pony Bravo. Perhaps you’ll think they are fucking shit, but maybe you’ll like them’. Needless to say, the tips tend to be top, and…
Once there was a little girl, and the little girl was only small, but her eyes were big and her ears were keen, and her wit was quick. She stayed in the library room of her house, and she read many books, and she heard voices in the books speaking to her, and this isn’t…
A dagger, a grave, a cold wet mist hanging in the air. A sunset, a rocky beach, a concrete jetty. A dank London street, orange glows, enticingly awful food. Late 90s electronica, ghostly Ch-House vocals, BASS. None of these things are in order. Like the opening of a Herzog-ian documentary on an invented tribe…
One morning, as Stuart Lamour was waking up from anxious dreams, he discovered that despite only a minor insertion wound his right hand had begun to resemble not so much the one he went to sleep with, but the proboscis of the ant which had bitten him. Marsha Hunt – Oh, no! Not the Beast…
(Otoman architecture via 50 Watts) As we descend parallel to the spike that impales the heart of the province over which our tower rises we reach a damp oubliette whose walls are covered in mysterious scribbles, the descent continues into the darkness, but we have never gone further, for an old man of foreboding countenance…
(Quote from Iain M. Banks, image is concept art for the Forewer War film adaptation that is on the works) You may be aware that members of the 20jazzfunkgreats community infiltrated the sprawling Barcelonan fields where Primavera Sound took place last week. This was a great endeavour for us crowd-challenged agoraphobes, but one that bore…
Over the years, messers 20 Jazz Funk Greats have assimilated a gem-studded dossier of talented friends, collaborators, acquaintances and even enemies, like some kind of low fidelity Borg-cube floating through an unknown quadrant of incredible visions. Today, in association with our sponsor Altered Zones (TM), let us reacquaint you with one of our oldest and dearest. Mr Eric Mast, known to…
Preposterous clan the Mungolian Jetset bring you the kind of jams that sneak into your room at night, steal your sleeping body and drag it backwards through a primordial sludge of miniature galaxies populated by libertarian drum people, who live in free thinking commune clusters and wear strikingly coloured robes. Mungolian Jetset – Moon Jocks & Prog Rocks…