Category Archives: 20jfg

SATURDAY MIXTAPE: A Lethal Dose of American Poetry

Featuring : 20jfg

Hip-hop hasn’t always hated Trump. In the 1990s and 2000s, Trump was a  tongue-in-cheek rap byword for bling. Raekwon, Jay-Z, Fabolous, Young Thug, Young Jeezy and more have all variously boasted of being hip-hop’s Donald Trump.

But now Trump isn’t just the uber-capitalist self-parody-turned-reality TV star. He’s fucking the world up, and despite lots of wishful thinking from op ed pieces about how the artistic kick-back against such a tyranny will make ‘music interesting again’, are Green Day and Le Tigre really the best we can do?

Well, no, because America’s first music is hip-hop – a music made all of words – and it’s a poetry that is tearing chunks out of the new dystopia.

We’ve made a mixtape of the most ferocious anti-Trump flows. Title is a reappropriation of an album (A Lethal Dose of American Hatred) by known white supremacist, Phil Anselmo.

XXJFG – A Lethal Dose of American Poetry

Trump/They Live by Nick Casale

Dancing music in the C20: miami bass (1984-86)

Featuring : Anquette + Palmerforce Two


If techno represented the logical conclusion of Cybotron’s electro, then Miami bass was surely the next evolution of Planet Rock. Retaining the Kraftwerk and P-funk influences, but keeping the vibes distinctly party-based, funky and served up with whooping and hollering from bass-riding male and female MCs.

Anquette – Throw The P (Radio Version)

Miami bass was musically heavy but often veered towards the thematically ridiculous. Not one but two of the early miami bass classics were based around the children’s song Old McDonald Had A Farm, for instance.


Vocoders were everywhere. A lot of modern academic writing on dance music posits the use of vocoders in electro as a sort of intentional technological neutralisation of racial identity. People forget. Being a robot was VERY COOL in the 1980s. Kids of the 80s loved dressing up in bacofoil-cardboad Transformers costumes and TALK-ING LI-KE A RO-BOT.

Palmerforce Two – Street Wars

Their older siblings making Miami bass bangers weren’t doing anything different, just with much more expensive toys.

Spotify playlist: early Miami bass (1984-86)

Saturday mixtape : The very power hungry fart

Featuring : Podcast


On Monday morning he ate through democracy, but he was still hungry for power.

On Tuesday he objectified and degraded women, but he was still hungry for power.

On Wednesday he decided people of a different skin color were inferior to him, but he was still hungry for power.

On Thursday he decided people with a different sexual orientation to him were unacceptable, but he was still hungry for power.

On Friday he built a death star and pointed it at everyone who he disagreed with.


  1. emit wind from the anus.
  2. waste time on silly or trivial things.


  1. an emission of wind from the anus.
  2. a boring or contemptible person.


  1. Attractive articles of little value or use.
  2. Practices or beliefs that are superficially or visually appealing but have little real value or worth.


  1. Showy but worthless.
  2. Delusive or shallow.

XXJFG Elected mixtape – Nominative determinism

Guest mix: PYE CORNER AUDIO’s The Head Technician

Featuring : Podcast + Pye Corner Audio


This isn’t the first mix that Pye Corner Audio’s The Head Technician has fabricated for 20JFG – to experience that, you need to travel back in time to this post – but seeing as he has helmed two awesome albums that have been released in the past 9 months, it was certainly worth inviting the enigmatic engineer back for another spin.

The first of these albums was Pye Corner Audio’s Prowler LP, released at the end of last year.

And more recently, Ecstatic Recordings have supplied listeners with Zones, a revamped solo set from The Head Technician.

And here’s that mix…

The Head Technician – Mix for 20 Jazz Funk Greats

Buy Zones by The Head Technician from Ecstatic Recordings

Gif from

Dancing music in the C20: jazz 1917-18


Although the most notable dance to be associated with jazz – the lindy hop – didn’t come into being until 1937, the nascent sounds of its musical accompaniment can be traced back 20 years earlier. The first recording recognisable as jazz was released on February 26th, 1917, through the Victor Label.

The Original Dixieland Jass Band’s Dixie Jass Band One Step/Livery Stable Blues release – I guess what we’d now call a ‘double A side’ – was comprised of two compositions controversially billed as originals by this group of white musicians.

Each side brought separate lawsuits. Two former members of the ODJB claimed authorship for Livery Stable Blues, although a judge ruled that neither party had copyright over the work, as not only was the tune based on a pre-existing “public domain” melody, but as none of the musicians could read or write music, the judge also expressed doubt that they could claim to have “composed” anything!

Original Dixieland Jazz Band – Dixie Jass Band One Step

Original Dixieland Jazz Band – Livery Stable Blues

A second lawsuit was brought by Joe Jordan, the sidekick to African-American minstrel pioneer Ernest Hogan – and a future collaborator of Orson Welles – who successfully proved that a portion of Dixie Jass Band One Step’s melody appeared to be lifted from his own That Teasin’ Rag, composed in 1909 for “the Queen of Cakewalk”, Aida Overton Walker.

Age June 6 1912 Ada Walker

This first ‘jass’ recording therefore acts as a case study around several issues pertinent to our discussion of early 20th century dancing music. Firstly – in contrast to later variations of the form, such as hard bop and modal or free jazz – this first jazz record was unambiguously dance music. It’s centre label even helpfully proclaimed ‘FOR DANCING’ on both sides of the record.

Secondly, it emphasises early jazz as an evolution of the cakewalk sound that had mutated through ragtime and blues via the vaudeville circuit. The ODJB were an early example of a jazz band ditching the New Orleans vaudeville scene in favour of performing at fashionable night-spots and eateries in Chicago and New York, where they made recording industry contacts under the patronage of Al Jolson.

Thirdly, it opened a legal debate that would be repeated many times throughout the 20th century, particularly in regards to dance music – and perhaps most memorably with controversies over sampling in the 1980s – that of copyright and innovation.

In these very early days of the recording industry, ownership was a somewhat mutable concept.

On the vaudeville circuit, prior to the boom in recorded music, songs were transmitted virally. Tunes would be passed from town to town as troupes travelled, with each musician putting his or her own stamp on the hot songs of the day, creating endless variations of a piece in an assortment of styles and dialects, sometimes with personalised lyrics and sometimes instrumental. In such a scenario, this orally transmitted folk music becomes difficult to assign ownership over, as evidenced by the Livery Stable Blues case.

Even composers celebrated as pioneers, such as Ernest Hogan and WC Handy, who had huge hits with their (copyrighted) published sheet music, were unembarrassed to admit appropriating pieces overheard in bar rooms or at travelling shows and train stations – anywhere where there was a pianist, guitarist or singer, and someone to listen.

Before the advent of the recording industry, this was simply how music was communicated outside of the symphony orchestra.

Whereas classical music by this point already had a centuries-old canon, these new African-American dancing musics were evolving nimbly and rapidly – their pieces could be performed by big bands, small ensembles and soloists alike, and established touring circuits meant that any evolution in the sound could be broadcast across huge swathes of working class America surprisingly quickly. An ever-insatiable appetite for dancing and entertainment ensured music as a surprisingly viable career option for anyone with showmanship and a way with a tune, and as the ODJB proved, you did not need to be able to read music or have studied at a conservatoire to take part.

Fourthly, the discussion around this debut jazz recording and the lawsuit from Joe Jordan again returns to a theme that we’ve picked at throughout this series, of whether the popularisation of ragtime, blues and jazz by white musicians constitutes what in today’s world is referred to guiltily as ‘cultural appropriation’, or whether the early iterations of these musics were genuinely more multicultural than modern day society would give credit.

Certainly, early jazz was as much of a cultural soup as its geographical birthplace of New Orleans. The 18th century precursor to the squaredance, the French Quadrille, inputted into jazz alongside 19th century biguine rhythms, themselves a hybridisation of French ballroom dance and African fertility rituals.

The ODJB themselves were graduates of Papa Jack Laine’s racially diverse early jazz band – a heavy-touring unit that never recorded, but whose 100+ alumni included many jazz originators.


The other key New Orleans outfits working in a jazz idiom during this time were Buddy Bolden’s band (pictured up top), who are believed to have recorded a wax cylinder as early as the late 1890s (but which, if it did exist, sadly has not survived), and the Original Creole Orchestra. The Original Creole Orchestra was the first band to perform jazz outside of New Orleans  (and the first band to explicitly refer to their sound as jazz), playing in over 75 cities in the USA and Canada.

Spotify playlist: early jazz 1917-18

From our Spotify playlist of the first year of jazz recordings, blues originator WC Handy is the only African-American recording artist. Again, this proportion of black to white jazz musicians is unlikely to be reflective of the working jazz musician demographic during this period.  Wilbur Sweatman’s Bag of Rags in 1917 is sometimes referred to as the first jazz recording by a black artist, although some critics consider this to more strictly be ragtime with some improvisational elements.

Improvisation is the crux of what differentiated jazz from the blues and ragtime dance music of this period. The development of blues and ragtime from military marches meant that the music was performed with a rigid precision. Jazz did away with that rigidity, gleefully swapping precision for spontaneity. In a jazz band, one player – typically the trumpet or cornet player – would follow the melody, with the other musicians improvising around that melody line. This ‘all-at-once’ improvisation gave the music a hectic, careering feel in contrast to later jazz forms, which standardised a system of players taking turns to improvise a solo.

A jazz band of this period would usually also include a clarinettist, whose job was to embellish the melody. The bassline would be held down by a tuba, with a trombone sliding between bass and melody as it fancied, often gilding the music with sound effects such as ‘slides’ and ‘smears’. Jazz was initially marching band music, performed at dances, parties and in New Orleans funeral processions, but as the music moved further away from the marching band model, drum kits, piano and string bass also increasingly featured.

Though this early period of jazz is most often referred to as Dixieland, some historians and music fans find this term problematic, as ‘dixie’ refers to the pre-Civil War Southern States. When the music migrated North from New Orleans, it would also be known as ‘hot jazz’ in Chicago, though this came with further rhythmic idiosyncrasies added by Louis Armstrong and his peers.

For the purposes of this blog, we have opted to call it simply ‘early jazz’.

Open-source psychomusic

Featuring : UMFANG


Supposedly Emma Olsen aka UMFANG views her latest release – OK – as “essentially a collection of DJ tools”, rather than an album in the classical sense.

This isn’t totally disingenous – the sounds are sparse, but purposeful. It fires the mind as to what other elements the listener could combine  to ‘complete’ these skeletal exercises. The true success of that approach, however, is in that you don’t have to apply these sounds physically in either a DAW or mixer to achieve this though – just the act of you mentally filling in the gaps allows new psychomusical configurations to manifest in your mind with each listen.


Alternatively, of course, you could resist from treating UMFANG as open-source electronic sound, and delight in the simplicities of rhythm and repetition that Olsen paints in straight lines and soft hues. Read as finished music, OK’s sounds are conspicuously unclubby – it sometimes sounds like dance music with the dance part rubbed out. Othertimes it is diagrammatical techno – unburdened with decoration; all impulse. Lots to love.

Buy the OK album from 1080p

art is Collage #171, 1940 by Karel Teige