Tag Archives: digital hardcore

Blowing Shit Up

Featuring : Ec8or

(Artwork by the fantastic Alex Cherry.)

The biggest advantage for this XXJFGer of sharing a flat with a former member of seminal Brighton noise-pop terrorists Lolita Storm is the sudden access to a vault of time-misremembered Digital Hardcore 12 inches. I mean, apart from all the getting to watch I’m A Celebrity and X-Factor together and drinking tea and all that shit.

DHR were a weird proposition in the late Nineties. They had an unparalleled run of speaker-detonating, brilliantly petulant gabba-pop records in a short incendiary burst. Where other recent proponents of Marxism, anarchism, or radical political alternatives in music had attempted a Trojan Horse-type thing of assuming ultra-conservative pop guises to administer a bitter pill (Manics, even McCarthy, really), Alec Empire, his band Atari Teenage Riot, and his label, DHR, just sounded like they were blowing shit up. ALL THE TIME. Digital Hardcore sounded like information-age WAR. This was ace. But it could be depressingly humourless. We don’t want to be all xeno-essentialist about this, but the crap jokes some English people make about German people not understanding irony seemed weirdly appropriate to DHRs own already-quaint revolution rhetoric.

There were some exceptions – Lolita Storm were thrillingly nasty playground pop; Shampoo made into the sounds of hard drives having a nervous breakdown. ATR, when we saw them last year at the Old Blue Last, were against every conceivable odd, still INCREDIBLE. Way better than the Sex Pistols could ever have been. Just a big ball of noise stamping on a human face forever.

Patric Catani and Gina D’Orio somehow managed to straddle the two extremes (the two extremes being ‘silly’ and ‘HOLY SHIT’), and released five albums between 1995 and 1999 on DHR as EC8OR. Their music was made on a battered Amiga 500, with one microphone for the vocals. It was WAY better than playing computer games.

EC8OR – Mean

Mean is from their modestly-titled 1998 album World Beaters. It is not familiar with the concept of ‘apologetic’.

 

Poison the man

Featuring :

Ok, fast post tonight, just arrived from a gig: Miss Pain opened with class and were true stars over the stage, another step more towards world domination (and Caught My Eye is a blinder, one of these days we’ll put it up here). Gravy Train!!! gave the goofiest, sexiest in a shag in the club’s toilets way, most fun performance I’ve seen for a while, completely upstaging the main act, Le Tigre, whose new songs are just lame. I’m not against pop chart music per se, it’s simply that they don’t do it well.

So anyway, for tonight we have fast and dirty…

Music made when packs of digital hardcore werewolfes with strange superpowers roamed the industrial wastelands of Berlin throwing lightning bolts of distortion against any source of authority that dared standing in their way. Shizuo was one of them, a kid with a knack for fooling around with twisted beats and churning retarded beasts such as this…

Shizuo- The Man

…a drum and bass lullaby for deranged minds who ‘want to have an orgasm’, some people might find it annoying but I think it’s pure genius, it soundtracked more than a summer evening of stupid house parties in my flat when dad and mum where away. Of course I always locked myself in the toilet while those events took place.

This is in Shizuo’s ‘New Kick’ single, which came out in Digital Hardcore in 1997. Ah, those were the days just before irony died of an overdose, take it for what it’s worth my friends.

Ian Svenonius and Michelle Mae, both of them 20 Jazz Funk Great icons, are back with Weird War’s new album, out in Drag City soon, it is called ‘Illuminated by Light’ (of course this is not as obvious as one might think).

It is another compendium of badass basslines, 70s guitar licks and esoteric lyrics charged with vivid imaginery (Mongoloid motocyclists?) that hide messages of sexual and political liberation.

Weird War-Mental Poisoning

I reckon it is the former sort in the case of the song I’m posting today, probably the most upbeat number in the whole record, a rather sick psychodelia-surf-funk track in which Ian rides a red cadillac of sleaze in true 60s satyr style, Mae’s throbbing bass builds a road in the lost highway, Alex Minoff’s crazy percussions drive the whole thing home and I go to bed with a smile in my face after dancing like a snake.