Featuring archives: Lord Boyd

An xxjfg archive for posts featuring Lord Boyd.

18th January 2013

Winter has come


Ditt Inre & Lord Boyd

A cascading, disjointed fall through the mp3s this week.  First up is Lord Boyd who sent us something he thoughts we’d like in the form of Ghosts in the Phantom (evidently before the name was changed in the artwork above — where the other ghosts have gone, who knows?).  This was subsequently buried beneath an…

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20th January 2012

Oh, sweet home – Week 2


Lord Boyd

Dear 20JFG, The portal that you provide back to my former life — all glittering floors and narrow streets — continues to be very much appreciated.   I have made repeated excursions this week, attempting to pierce the membrane that keeps me from you; a needle repeatedly stopped in time, on the verge.  But to…

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25th November 2011

Delightfully Odd Music

Deep Earth return to the pages of 20JFG with a track from their split with Food Pyramid (who took the time to leave a lengthy comment on Monday’s post — both post and comment are well worth reading). Kontraband teases as a synth led Miami Vice Balearic stormer, all mid-2000′s slo-disco swagger.  Yet the Bladerunner…

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10th June 2011

None of these things are related


Graphics & Lord Boyd

  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…

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18th February 2011

Under purple skies


Bubble Club & Lord Boyd

On a warm Iberian island under purple skies.  On the gentle cliffs  above the glistening midnight blue sea.  On the flat roof-cum-balcony of a white washed villa.  On a wicker chair, padded with soft white cushions.  She sits.  And watches the stars unfold. They twinkle infinitely in patterns of such astounding beauty that the only…

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28th October 2010

Familiars of the Forbidden Zone


Lord Boyd & Nites

Time trapped in the Forbidden Zone of our gilded capital affords plenty of opportunity to cultivate that particular blend of alienation that’s only curtailed by the mp3-playing-device welded to our pockets.  It takes a special brand of familiar to keep the calluses from forming on our dark souls – something that sits on the wrong…

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