Category Archives: Chris Carter

The way to a man’s heart is through his chest

(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 its fruit in many a mind-blowing concert. It is with retrospective wisdom that your rapporteur has come to realise how great the overall thing was, in spite of some software issues that you may have heard about or experienced, and a lingering feeling that the whole event has reached a scale beyond what we can manage. The reason why such hijinks and concerns have faded into nothingness as we recovered from our festivalesque exertions is dead simple: some of the best shows we have seen this year, or any other year, took place at Primavera Sound 2011.

Rather than engage in a protracted description of the craziness and glory of that went on, we will over the coming weeks be referring to the festival and the acts therein represented when it feels relevant. Let us begin with Factory Floor, who utterly obliterated the ATP stage on Thursday night, with some help from one Chris Carter.

Factory Floor – A Lying (Chris Carter remix)

Factory Floor strip dance music down to its bare components, and configure them with the grim nonchalance of a murder squad retained by the black ops soviet. Think Dutch’s squad in Predator with no wisecracking and a snappy Helghan fashion sense.

Synth loops blast like machine language glyphs that could be translated into simple instructions such as ‘ATTACK’, ‘EXTERMINATE’, ‘CARPET BOMBING’, ‘TAKE NO PRISONERS’ or ‘FIX YOUR BAYONETS’, all straight off Nitzer Ebb’s and Front 242 body music usage dictionary.  The motorik beats read like input-output flows in a 5 year programme of industrial production that measures results in terms of sweat. The shards of distortion are cruelly designed to produce collateral damage, demoralization and mass surrender.

It isn’t user friendly music, this militaristic acid groove thing, it leaves psychical scars in the shape of weird flashbacks of a tour of duty in a stressful zone of asexual physical release and automated dance alienation. It is quite fucked up and in a class of its own. Get on it if you dare.

You can find the Chris Carter remix above on this Blast First 12.

Led Er Est may well be your scribe’s favourite representatives of the new wave of cold wave (followed by Xeno and Oaklander and Blank Dogs). They have just released May, a new six-track EP with Captured Tracks, and it truly is a sweet follow up on their Dust on Common LP (one of the best albums of 2009, go get if you haven’t yet – vinyl here).

Above you can see House Plants’ video for Lonesome XOXO, an Adam Curtis-esque stream of consciousness collage of archive footage representing violent globalisation and commercial spectacle, two removers of individual agency easily linkable to the contemporary angst manifest in this paradoxically catchy dark pop hit.


20jazzfunkgreats best of 2010: Paranormal Beauty Contest

As we approach thee end of 2010, we open the gun locker, gaffer tape a flashlight to our pump action shotgun and slide into the vietcong tunnels of what went on this year. There be monsters there.

Being the all encompassing unstandardised weirdoes that we are, we make no attempt at ranking our choices, or to classify them by format. We just about manage to drop them into different buckets which aren’t quite genres, but a chromatic scale of the kirlian aura colours that they impressed upon us.

Let’s begin with black. Things that go slash in the night.

Chris Carter – The Space Between: Optimo music present to us a resurrected artefact from the dawn of our current philosophies.  Instrumental sides to the freestyle battles of Gods.

Chris Carter – Clouds (posted 2008)

Cold Waves and Minimal Electronics Vol. 1.: An urban survival guide for the modern existential hero. Can be read as a cyberpunk anthology, or as a collection of fashion tips for the cavalcade of the damned.

Eleven Pond- Watching Trees (posted in 2009)

Florene – Homemade Extacy. Those blips you see breaking the speed limit in your radar, lt. Strumpf, as you swig on your hip flask behind a battered roadside advert in the scorching Texan night, they aren’t your average joy riders. No, they are the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, and they are looking for a rave.

Florene- Homemade Extacy (new post)

Gatekeeper: Giza.Herr Mannheim, I think that upgrading the operating system of our robotic assembly line with a code sequence downloaded from an anonymous source located somewhere in the sidereal voids wasn’t such a hot idea.

Gatekeeper- Serpent (posted Dec 6th)

Indian Jewelry: Totaled. Dorothy is bored in her house in the middle of the desert. A whirlwind takes her to a world of impossible colour . She jacks a pickup truck and storms down the yellow paths with her gang of metal men and talking beasts, under a black cloud of flying monkeys. Oz is toppled and anarchy ensues.

Indian Jewelry- Excessive Moonlight (posted May 18th)

Liars: Sisterworld. This is the sort of pop music that fills the airwaves in those desolate places where prepubescent worshippers of a pagan cult slaughtered all the adults.

Married in Berdichev: Readying. Walking down the private collection of the Hunterian museum at night, where beauty stands still, preserved in aspic.

Married in Berdichev- I Need the Sun (posted July 27th)

Model Man – Shouldn’t I be Dead by Now? Dry ice and airbrushed laser beams thunder over a brutal coastline as Tron’s less binary characters engage in fatalistic plans for their escape.

Model Man – Shouldn’t (posted October 18th)

Mueran Humanos: S/T. The dead are not quiet in Mueran Humanos’ album. Within, walls continue upright, bricks meet, floors are firm, and doors are sensibly shut. Silence lies steadily against the wood and stone. And we who walk here… walk alone.

Mueran Humanos: Festival de las Luces (New post)

Psychic Ills- FRKWYS 4: Doomsday ragas kinaesthetically synchronised with the infra-red output of the Predator’s mask, while manhunting in the Arabian desert.

Psychic Ills- Mantis (Juan Atkins Remix) (Posted August 26th)

Puerto Rico Flowers: 4. Me and Bauhaus getting it on in the abandoned abattoir (a love story).

Puerto Rico Flowers: Let’s Make Friends (new post)

Salem – King Night: Filling 20JFG’s lungs with bewitching dreams since 2008, Salem deliver the album that brushes past any middling concerns of genre partisans.  Exquisite beauty lurking beneath waves of delay and syrup.

Salem – Frost (New Post)

Scorpion Violente: Uberschleiss. The Gabber Meinhof aren’t a wild bunch of decadent noisemongers hellbent on collapsing society by industrial means. No, they are the research & development department of the survivalist massive, prototyping sonic armaments to be deployed against the undead hordes crawling from an oversubscribed hell.

Scorpion Violente: Viol et Revanche (posted October 18th)

Teeth of the Sea: Your Mercury. Sexual transcendence you achieve while your flesh dissolves under the leathery wings of the bat people of The Beastmaster.

Teeth of the Sea: A.C.R.O.N.Y.M. (posted October the 7th)

Xander Harris – Urban Gothic Synth drenched ode to Brian Keene.  A mix tape of all our favourite horror scores ripped to shreds and assembled into terrifyingly catchy shapes.

Xander Harris – Opening Credits (posted August 20th)

Their flight just got delayed. Permanently

Featuring : Chris Carter

So, it’s finally happened, the forbidden celebrations carried out in the naked summit of a haunted hill worked their darken magic, and the cult of 20jazzfunkgreats managed to infiltrate the nightmares of the developers at awesome indie outfit Valve, so that, after firing up our synapses in teletransporting Rubik cube styles with Portal, they were finally led to the creation of a video game which is so about us and what we dig that we did spiritually wet the proverbial sofa upon first playing. We are talking about Left 4 Dead, that game where you make your way across a derelict wasteland inhabited by the infected.

Another zombie game the naysayers say, to which I reply, whatever, never have I been closer to feeling like one of the red-necks at the end of Night of the Living Dead, picking out blurry silhouettes with a sniper rifle in the misty distance, like one of the survivors, under siegue in a house waiting for rescue as the horde of the damned crashes through every window and door, full-auto shotgun does the job close quarters. Admittedly, this is a dirty thing, but hey, I spend 5 hours a day commuting into and around the big smoke, fucking reality TV kids, I’ve got the dread and the loathing festering deep inside me, and I have dodged the undead, my doctor tells me this kind of cathartic carnage is an excellent way of keeping focussed and well mannered when dealing with those who deserve it, so there.

You won’t know what I mean until you have played it, got to the last level, Harvest of Blood, and in the last stage, stood in your vantage point over a corn field listening, full of fear, to the shrieking of a hunter on the prowl. Fucking natter, put on your George A. Romero glasses to play this one.

Here you have some a couple of songs we would have included in the excellently understated soundtrack.


If you don’t have the last IGETRVNG 60 Minutes of Fear with JD Twitch’s post-punk edits hey, it’s about time you sorted it out as this will be some of your best-spent money this year. The absolutely lovely 10” includes an edit of The Mob’s Witch Hunt where Twitch goes all Mother Sky on our asses. Here you have the original, in all its about to burst on the seams mindblowing paranoid cold-war tension glory. Dedicated to all of you out there who have struggled trying to dodge off the way of a Witch crying in a corner of a god-forsaken blood-splattered farmhouse.

The Mob- Witch Hunt


As it is usually the case with these things, the real fear lies not in that avalanche of berserk and rotten wailing creatures approaching inevitable as you fumble with an M16 clip, but in those moments of spooky quiet when you walk across empty streets not that different from any urban landscape at 3.AM, very well aware of how just around the corner, or in a forsaken roof, there is a malign intelligence aware of your every move, ready to do something bad and horrible. Just like life on a Monday. It will be ok when the shit goes down, adrenalin kicks in and you look for a target. Until then, and in a most twisted way, enjoy cruel fingers of ice encroaching upon your spine not dissimilar from the synthetic spirals which Chris Carter summons in Clouds, because horror never got any more languorously beautiful.

Chris Carter- Clouds