Review: Seekers international - Lovers dedication station

Sweet and sultry. Obsession, heartbreak and break up vendettas.

Review: Seekers international - Lovers dedication station

Sweet and sultry. Obsession, heartbreak and break up vendettas.

Sweet and sultry. Obsession, heartbreak and break up vendettas. 

Gregory Isaacs and John Holt. Serenaded and smooth. Natty tailored suits and medallions. Gold tooth and a fedora. 

South London soundsystems. Dennis Bovell and Neville King. Cross pollinated and transfigured. 

Post-Windrush idealism. Mixing desks and soul 45s. Dancehall affection. Heartbreak dub. 

Janet Kay like the anguished younger sister of Minnie Ripperton. 

‘I caught you in a lie’. 

‘Stop hurting me, stop making me cry, you’re treating me so wrong, I don’t know why’. 

‘My love don’t come easy, not tonight’. 

‘Silly Games’ blaring out of next door’s second rate speakers. Going to the shops to get a Cornetto and a four pack. Sun on concrete. Smell of BBQ’s, cheap weed and bus fumes. 

Carrol Thompson and Louisa Mark. Carnival on at the park. On till late. Usually few too many white guys with dreads. Blood Sisters version of ‘Ring My Bell’ just came on…

Shout outs, big ups, conversational offcuts, professions. Eavesdropped and plundered. 

Keeps cutting out. 

‘Carol Cool “Upside Down”…’

Screwed and melted soundclash fragmentation. Tripped out bliss and labile funk. 

Airwaves for the taking. A puzzle with missing pieces. Irregular permutations. 

Sugar Minott trapped in a Reichian wormhole. Like ‘It’s Gon’ Rain’ for when you stare into the sun too long. 

‘Wake Up Dub’. Curtains roll back. 

‘You see I'm a dynamite

So all you got to do is hold me tight

Because I'm out a sight you know

Because I'm dynamite’

Oceanic blues, morning heatwave. Crystalline echoes. Reverb smear. 

J Dilla meets SeekersInternational at the grass roots of love. 

‘See you later baby, yeah?’ 

New age avenue. Street scenes. Sirens, kids playing on the street.

Going out tonight. Turn it up. 

Just ash in the can. Saturday night TV with the volume turned down. Static aura. 

Drum machines and MPCs. Off kilter rolls, bass getting heavier. Veering all over the road. 

‘Now you want me’. Effervescent FX and high notes. Diva soul on an eternal rewind. Freda Payne and Mad Professor on at the same time, competing for the speakers. 

‘I get high on your memory’. 

‘Dub Me Crazy’. Baby. 

Magnetic tape all over the floor. Needle keeps jumping. 

Get on the tube. Dusk glow and cool air. Get dark soon. 

Drums still rattling. Ragga electronics. Casio sequence. 

‘ShowtimeBaby’. Loop acrobatics.  

Quiet storm. Clenched fists. Luther Vandross in a slipstream. Sidereal boogie.

‘Love TKO’ on broken headphones. Girls chatting at the back of the bus. 

The tape runs on. 

Silk and surface noise. Echo submergence. 

Voices trailing like smoke. Enervation and haze. Bass still ringing in the ears.

Lysergic version immersion. Plunderphonia. Iridescent psychedelic pirate frequency. FM slippage. 

Upturned and unravelled. Walking home, eyes glazed, sun coming up again. 

Reception’s clearer now. Back to the beginning. Tuned in. 


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