Tuesday, 29 October 2013

Just when you thought it was safe to go back to the stereo. 4 hours more of Smagghe & Flugel!!

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Yep, not saying we're one trick ponies but here's some more from Ivan and Roman.
A four hour back to back set for BigDishGo with Ivan Smagghe and Roman Flugel recorded live @ Kennnedy's on Saturday October 15th 2012.
And yes, it's as fucking good as it sounds.

Big love.
Mark. X

Monday, 28 October 2013

Ivan Smagghe. Live @ Sameheads, Berlin: 11.10.13.

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Lets just get one thing out of the way straight away. Ivan Smagghe is not only one of my all time favourite DJ's and producers but he deservedly belongs to a top table of DJs that journalists like to lazily describe as “The DJ’s DJs”. Along with the likes of occasional partner-in-crime Andrew Weatherall, Ivan has the ability to play music like a raw conduit between his famously obscure records and the dancefloor’s strobe-soaked bodies, injecting something of himself seamlessly into the mix along the way. A native Parisian, Ivan has always been a key figure in the French music scene, constantly pushing the boundaries of electronic music.
He gained notoriety as a radio DJ, face behind the counter at Black Market Records and co-founder of Black Strobe. As well as all this Ivan has held long term residencies at the legendary, now defunct, Parisian club Pulp and he's one of only a tiny handful of DJ's to take over the decks at Glasgow's Optimo while Keith and Jonnie were off on their jollies.
He's been running the 'Kill The DJ' label for over a decade and making records alongside Tim Paris as one half of production duo It’s A Fine Line. But I fear I may have just wasted the last 5 minutes writing all this as pretty much ANYONE reading this will be aware of all of this info already so I'll shut my gob and let you scroll down the page and hit the button marked 'Play' and get your ears round a couple of hours of Ivan doing his thing @ Berlin's 'Sameheads' night just a couple of weeks back.
As ever, there's a download link in the description box on the Mixcloud page.

Big love.
Mark. X

Tuesday, 22 October 2013

A Love From Outer Space: Live @ Freakin' July, 2013.

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It'll come as no secret to anyone who's flicked through the pages of Thoughts On Love And Smoking to find that we're big fans on messrs Weatherall & Johnston and their A Love From Outer Space night but it will be a surprise to see we've not posted a mix of theirs for some time now. Well, worry no more sweet reader as today is the day we rectify that lack of action. We've got just over 4 hours of the best in space rock, cosmic noodling, chuggernauts, stazi techno and heads down pumpers from the chaps at their recent gig at the brilliant Freakin in York. Trust us, it's an absolute STORMER!! Big love. X

Monday, 21 October 2013

Wailing guitars, haunted bacon & ham that was cursed by a demon witch - An introduction to The Phantom Of The Paradise.

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To celebrate the approach of the spookiest day of the spookiest month of the year known as Halloween, we’re celebrating some little known cinematic macabre. Specifically at one terrifying number in the cult horror musical, ‘Phantom of the Paradise.’

Now you can say what you will about Brian De Palma but hes never been afraid of a long set piece or a challenge. Just a year after 'The Rocky Horror Picture Show' hit the states, De Palma’s wildly inventive horror/musical, 'Phantom of the Paradise', was flopping in theaters across America. However, thanks to an unexplained rise in events like 'Phantompalooza' and cult film fans around the world, 'Phantom of the Paradise' is finally getting the recognition it (sort of) deserves.
The original music was written by Paul Williams, a man who's name will be unrecognised by most people but who is not only responsible for writing 'We've Only Just Begun' and 'Rainy Days and Mondays' for The Carpenters, 'Fill Your Heart' for David Bowie but also what is surely his career high the brilliant 'Rainbow Connection' for the first Muppet Movie! All this AND he played 'Little Enos Burdette' in Smokey and the Bandit!!

Anyhoo, 'Phantom Of The Paradise' is essentially a rock version of Faust with twinges of Phantom of the Opera thrown in for good measure. William Finley plays Winslow Leach, a disfigured composer, who has made a pact with Swan, an evil record producer (played by Paul Williams himself), so that he can continue to make music. After falling in love with Phoenix, a budding starlet, Winslow, now known as the Phantom because of his respirator mask, insists she star in his new show.
When Swan chooses stage sensation Beef (Gerrit Graham) over Phoenix for the part, the Phantom seeks revenge and the real horror begins. In a fantastic lip-synch performance of ‘Life at Last’, Graham embodies evil, owning the stage as he sings, “Do you realize that all of you donated something horrible you hated that’s a part of you? I’m your nightmare coming true!”
The audience squirms with anticipation as they watch the Phantom prepare to kill the crooning Beef with an electric lighting bolt straight to the heart. In true control of his craft, De Palma delivers a dynamic and horrific sequence all punctuated by the Phantom’s mechanical laugh. Seriously blud, You’ll be screaming right along with the crowds in the film.

Friday, 18 October 2013

"Something for the weekend?" Oneohtrix Point Never * XLR8R Podcast.

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Describing the work of Brooklyn-based experimental musician Daniel Lopati is no mean task! While the producer initially made his name with a series of trippily drifting synthscapes, recent years have found him consistently expanding his artistic vision, to the point where describing his 'sound' is all but impossible. However, this mix gets as close as possible to doing just that. Running for nearly two hours, it spans multiple decades, genres, and continents. As it unfurls, Lopatin flashes a unique ability to connect the dots between seemingly disparate points of the musical universe, and often does so with a genuine sense of humor, which makes the listening experience all the more enjoyable. We've not included the tracklist this time as A. It's a much more enjoyable experience being surprised by the music and B. It's too fucking long! Anyhoo. Enjoy and big love. X.

01. Meredith Monk "Cluster 2" (ECM New Series) & Mark Leckey "Fiorucci Made Me Hardcore (Edit)" (Death of Rave) & GZA "Shadowboxin'" (Geffen)
02. Paul Lansky "Notjustmoreidlechatter"
03. Jefferson Airplane "Today" (RCA Victor)
04. Kenji Kawai "Virtual Crime" (BMG Victor)
05. Aksak Maboul "Scratch Holiday" (Made to Measure)
06. The Game "See No Evil" (Interscope) & Ben Frost "Untitled Transient (Edit)" (Bedroom Community)
07. Taylor Deupree "Snow/Sand (Edit)" (12K) & Julia Holter "Running Through My Eyes (Edit)" (Domino) & Three 6 Mafia "Charging These Hoes" (Relativity)
08. Forgemasters "Track With No Name" (Warp)
09. NY House'n Authority "Apt 2A" (Nu Groove)
10. Kraftwerk "Sex Object" (EMI)
11. Scott Johnson "Involuntary Song #2" (Nonesuch)
12. F.U.S.E. "Nitedrive" (Wax Trax!) & Coil "Rosa Decidua" (Eskaton) & Global Communication "12 18" (Dedicated) & Mark Leckey "3 Minute Wonder (Channel 4 video excerpt)" > Lazy Smoke "Under Skys" (Jackpot)
13. Robert Hood "Minus" (Tresor)
14. Yasuaki Shimizu "Bridgestone 2" (Crammed Discs)
15. Ariel Pink "Mature Themes" (4AD)
16. Koopsta Knicca "Now I'm Hi (Pt. 2)" (D.Evil)
17. Judee Sill "Abracadabra" (Asylum)
18. Morton Feldman "Rothko Chapel 3" (Hänssler Classic) & Severed Heads "Hemet" (Sevcom) & Wendy Carlos "Title Music From A Clockwork Orange (from Henry Purcell's 'Music for the Funeral of Queen Mary, Z. 860')" (Columbia)
19. Benjamin Lew "Les Traces d'Un Pont" (Crammed Discs) & SND "00018 Old End Ng" (Mille Plateaux) & Cocteau Twins "Cherry-Coloured Funk" (4AD)
20. Geinoh Yamashirogumi "Catastrophe" (Invitation)
21. Ayhun "OAR003-B" (Oni Ayhun) & Future Sound of London "Bird Wings" (Virgin)
22. Autechre "Piezo" (Warp
23. Kanye West "Bound 2 (Edit)" (Def Jam) & Mark Leckey "Fiorucci Made Me Hardcore (Edit)" (Death of Rave)

Wednesday, 9 October 2013

'Knowledge Has No Respect For Reputation' + 6 hours of Roman Fluegel & Oliver Hafenbauer live from Frankfurt's legendary 'Robert Johnson'.

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Knowledge Has No Respect For Reputation.

The development of my philosophy came about as follows: My girlfriend of some time ago, inviting me to sample her very first souffle, accidentally dropped a spoonful of it on my foot, fracturing several small bones. Doctors were called in, X-rays taken and examined, and I was ordered to bed for a month. During this convalescence, I turned to the works of some of Western society's most formidable thinkers - a stack of books I had laid aside for just such an eventuality.
Scorning chronological order, I began with Kierkegaard and Sartre, then moved quickly to Spinoza, Hume, Kafka, and Camus. I was not bored, as I had feared I might be; rather, I found myself fascinated by the alacrity with which these great minds unflinchingly attacked morality, art, ethics, life, and death. I remember my reaction to a typically luminous observation of Kierkegaard's: "Such a relation which relates itself to its own self (that is to say, a self) must either have constituted itself or have been constituted by another." The concept brought tears to my eyes. My word, I thought, to be that clever! (I'm a man who has trouble writing two meaningful sentences on 'My Day at the Zoo.')
True, the passage was totally incomprehensible to me, but what of it as long as Kierkegaard was having fun? Suddenly confident that metaphysics was the work I had always been meant to do, I took up my pen and began at once to jot down the first of my own musings. The work proceeded apace, and in a mere two afternoons, with time out for dozing - I had completed the philosophical work that I am hoping will not be uncovered until after my death, or until the year 3000 (whichever comes first), and which I modestly believe will assure me a place of reverence among history's weightiest thinkers. Here is but a small sample of the main body of intellectual treasure that I leave for posterity, or until the crime scene clean up team comes.

1. Critique of Pure Dread.
In formulating any philosophy, the first consideration must always be: What can we know? That is, what can we be sure we know, or sure that we know we knew it, if indeed it is at all knowable. Or have we simply forgotten it and are too embarrassed to say anything? Descartes hinted at the problem when he wrote, "My mind can never know my body, although it has become quite friendly with my legs."
By 'knowable,' incidentally, I do not mean that which can be known by perception of the senses, or that which can be grasped by the mind, but more that which can be said to be 'known' or to possess a 'knownness' or 'knowability', or at least something you can mention to a friend. Can we actually 'know' the universe? My God, it's hard enough finding your way around in Cramlington.
The point, however, is: Is there anything out there? And why? And must they be so noisy? Finally, there can be no doubt that the one characteristic of 'reality' is that it lacks essence. That is not to say it has no essence, but merely lacks it. (The reality I speak of here is the same one Hobbes described, but a little smaller.) Therefore the Cartesian dictum "I think, therefore I am" might better be expressed "Hey, there goes Andy with a saxophone!" So, then, to know a substance or an idea we must doubt it, and thus, doubting it, come to perceive the qualities it possesses in its finite state, which are truly 'in the thing itself,' or 'of the thing itself,' or of something or nothing. If this is clear, we can leave epistemology for the moment.

2. Eschatological Dialectics As a Means of Coping with Machine Toe and a Dry Weave.
We can say, without being bogged down in the dark matter/dark energy/string theory debat, that the visible universe consists of a substance, and this substance we will call 'atoms,' or else we will call it 'monads'. Democritus called it atoms. Leibnitz called it monads. Fortunately, the two men never met, or there would have been a very dull argument. These 'particles' were set in motion by some cause or underlying principle, or perhaps something fell off something, somewhere. The point is that it's too late to do anything about it now, except possibly to eat plenty of raw fish. This, of course, does not explain why the soul is immortal. Nor does it say anything about an afterlife, or about the feeling my uncle Andrew has that he is being followed by Albanians. The causal relationship between the first principle (i.e., God, or a strong wind) and any teleological concept of being (Being) is, according to Pascal, "so ludicrous that it's not even funny (Funny)." Schopenhauer called this 'will,' but his doctor diagnosed it as hay fever. In his later years, he became embittered by it, or more likely because of his increasing suspicion that he was not taller.

3. The Cosmos on Five Quid a Day.
What, then, is 'beautiful'? The merging of harmony with the just, or the merging of harmony with something that just sounds like 'the just'? Possibly harmony should have been merged with 'the crust' and this is what's been giving us our trouble. Truth, to be sure, is beauty - or 'the necessary.'
That is, what is good or possessing the qualities of 'the good' results in 'truth.' If it doesn't, you can bet the thing is not beautiful, although it may still be waterproof. I am beginning to think I was right in the first place and that everything should be merged with the crust.
Oh, well, here's a parable to simplify this idea. A man approaches a palace. Its only entrance is guarded by some fierce Huns who will only let men named Julius enter. The man tries to bribe the guards by offering them a year's supply of choice chicken bits. They neither scorn his offer nor accept it, but merely take his nose and twist it. The man says it is imperative that he enter the palace because he is bringing the emperor a change of underwear. When the guards still refuse, the man begins to breakdance badly. They seem to enjoy his dancing but soon become morose over the treatment of the source material. Out of breath, the man collapses. He dies, never having seen the emperor and owing the Steinway people sixty pounds on a piano he had rented from them in August.

*Aphorisms It is impossible to experience one's own death objectively and still carry a tune.

* The universe is merely a fleeting idea in God's mind - a pretty uncomfortable thought, particularly if you've just made the down payment on a house.

* Eternal nothingness is O.K. if you're dressed for it.

* If only Dionysus were alive! Where would he drink?

* Not only is there no God, but try getting a plumber on weekends.

Monday, 7 October 2013

Pretty much THE meaning of life + Cheap Nob Gags Volume #4 mix.

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The Man wakes on a large white bed with no knowledge of how he got there. He sits up to find a tall dark haired gentleman sitting on a chair by the bed. Suddenly, in a flash memories start returning.

You were on your way home when you died.

It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless.

You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The Ambulance men tried their best to save you, but to no avail.

Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me. And that’s when you met me.

“What… what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?”
“You died,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words.
“There was a,,,, truck and it was skidding,,,,
“Yes,” I said.
“I… I died?”
“Yes. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone dies,” I said.
You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. “What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?”
“More or less,” I said. “Are you God?” You asked.
“Yes,” I replied. “I’m God.”
“My kids,,,,, my wife,” you said. “What about them? Will they be all right?”
“That’s what I like to see,” I said. “You just died and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.”
You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn’t look like God. I just looked like some man. Or possibly a woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the almighty.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn’t have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it’s any consolation, she’ll feel very guilty for feeling relieved.”
“Oh,” you said. “So what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?”
“Neither,” I said. “You’ll be reincarnated.”
“Ah,” you said. “So the Hindus were right,”
“All religions are right in their own way,” I said. “Walk with me.”
You followed along as we strode through the void.
“Where are we going?”
“Nowhere in particular,” I said. “It’s just nice to walk while we talk.”
“So what’s the point, then?” You asked. “When I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter.”
“Not so!” I said. “You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don’t remember them right now.” I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. “Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold. You put a tiny part of yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had. “You’ve been in a human for the last 40 years, so you haven’t stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out here for long enough, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point to doing that between each life.”
“How many times have I been reincarnated, then?”
“Oh lots. Lots and lots. An in to lots of different lives.” I said. “This time around, you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 AD.”
“Wait, what?” You stuttered. “You’re sending me back in time?”
“Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.”
“Where you come from?” You said.
“Aye.” I explained “I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there are others like me. I know you’ll want to know what it’s like there, but honestly you wouldn’t understand.”
“Oh,” you said, a little let down. “But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, I could have interacted with myself at some point.”
“Aye. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own lifespan you don’t even know it’s happening. So what’s the point of it all?"
"Seriously?” I asked. “Seriously? You’re asking me for the meaning of life? Isn’t that a little stereotypical?” “Well it’s a reasonable question,” you persisted.
I looked you in the eye. “The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.” “You mean mankind? You want us to mature?”
“No, just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature and become a larger and greater intellect.”
“Just me? What about everyone else?”
“There is no one else,” I said. “In this universe, there’s just you and me.” You stared blankly at me.
“But all the people on earth…”
“All you. Different incarnations of you.”
“Wait. I’m everyone!?”
“Now you’re getting it,” I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.
“I’m every human being who ever lived?”
“Or who will ever live, yes.”
“I’m Abraham Lincoln?”
“And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too,” I added.
“I’m Hitler?” You said, appalled.
“And you’re the millions he killed.”
“I’m Jesus?”
“And you’re everyone who followed him.” You fell silent. “Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “you were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.” You thought for a long time. “Why?” You asked me. “Why do all this?”
“Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my child.”
“Whoaaaaaa,” you said, incredulous. “You mean I’m a God?”
“No. Not yet. You’re a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born.”
“So the whole universe,” you said, “it’s just…”
“Like a big egg I reckon.” I answered.
“Now it’s time for you to move on to your next life.” And I sent you on your way.