< > I, like everyone else in the dance music world, got very excited at the beginning of the week over a DJ/producer called Ten Walls saying that he reckons, to paraphrase: all gay people are paedophile priests. The news broke last Thursday in the Gay Star News but reached mainstream tipping point on Sunday night, and was all over Twitter and Facebook until Tuesday morning when everyone got a bit bored of it and moved on to bashing GFOTY for being racist at Field Day instead. I even rushed out a WRDM editorial on Monday night to declare that homophobia in dance music is "not a big deal" based on NO EVIDENCE WHATSOEVER. LOLoutLOUD.
It’s a big deal to whoever is on the receiving end of it, so I was a little hasty to be so final on the issue, but the crux of what I was trying to get across was that we've been swamped with negative reflection on what is one of - if not THE - most accepting and LGBT-friendly genres/cultures on the planet because of one fucking mentalist being fucking mental on the internet. This, like all hate speech, is an unresolvable issue that won't be won on website forums, blog posts or Twitter exchanges. Some people who are into dance music are racist. Some people who are into dance music are homophobic. Some people who are into dance music are sexist. Some people who are into dance music are transphobic. Some people who are into dance music are paedophiles. Some people who are into dance music are murderers. Burglars. Rapists. Some properly fucking evil people like dance music, and you won't change or educate every mind, but the majority of those who do like dance music, and engage in the culture are fucking sound, and the words, "one love", however cheesy, really mean something. Part of the weekend never dies and the majority of you understand that.
I don’t know how you resolve something like this. I know that Ten Walls will never work again (under that name anyway), so let's continue the discussion, and the education, and the support for those affected by hate, and leave that bell end behind.
< > You could tell that everyone was a bit fatigued after the Ten Walls bubble though because GFOTY didn't get half as much prolonged stick. I waded in early on her with a single Tweet about how shit the actual Noisey article was. I didn't even have a pop for the racism stuff, but I reckon I've got more chance of running into her in London than I have Ten Walls, so I don't want to piss someone off who I might be able to use for my own advantage in the future. I'm even more vapid than she is.
< > Speaking of Ten Walls, I got banned FOREVER from Discogs on Tuesday afternoon.
- What's that got to do with Ten Walls, Tonka?
- Well, in the heady atmosphere of Monday lunchtime when EVERYONE was caning Ten Walls I created a Discogs account so that I could review Walking With Elephants in an extremely graphic, homoerotic fashion and add to his picture gallery with exceptionally graphic pictures of men engaged in full bareback browny ripping, kissing, cuddling, anal cream pies and facial cum shots.
I don't regret my decision to do so because I've never used Discogs for anything other than research for the Weekly Review of Dance Music, to trick people into thinking that I have a Bill Brewster-style knowledge of the scene. The avalanche of support I received on Facebook and Twitter following my ban was heart-warming, yet pointless. I don't even want a Discogs account. Discogs can fuck right off.
< > Postman Pat squeezed Electrochoc through my letter box the other day. No, it's not a new-fangled electric Yorkie, Electrochoc is the BRAND NEW (if you’re not a French speaking owner of the 2003 original) hardback book by Laurent Garnier and David Brun-Lambert. It's about thirty quid in the shops but I got it for free because the publishers know that I'll say how fucking brilliant the book is on here, WRDM, Facebook and Twitter.
So, is Electrochoc any good? The answer is yes, it's fucking brilliant. I'm only on page 13 at the moment, but it's already the best book I've ever read. In it, Laurent Garnier has just moved from London, where he was the right hand man for an ambassador by day and an original party boy at night, grinding and grooving to the then-latest sounds of Mark Moore down Mud Club and generally having a lovely time, to Manchester, which he said looked shit when he first arrived, but as soon as he had a chat with a few people he changed his mind and thought it was great.
I'm looking forward to the bit where he writes about seeing me looking jealously through the windows of the AKA Bar during the closing party of The End after I'd been thrown out by the bouncers for openly, and arrogantly, sniffing a crushed-up pill off the back of my hand on the Sunday morning whilst Mr. C was MCing, ironically, to Ebenezer Goode.
If I were you, I’d BUY Electrochoc from here.
< > I'll end on another positive and talk about how much I love the month of June. June means that it's the proper start of the summer, doesn't it? It just sounds like summer. May doesn't sound like summer, does it? June does. So does July. July sounds like a summer month. So does August. September doesn't. It's still usually warm in September, but I'd never call September a summer month, would you? After that, you're looking at October, which is definitely not a summer month!
So, let's celebrate the start of summer by looking at the calendar on your wall and saying, "Yes! Fuck me. It's June!"