< > R$NHQ / Wednesday night:
- What time is it, Joe Europe?
- It's seven o'clock, Tonks.
- Thanks, pal.
- Any time. Time! Geddit?
- Hey, bloke who does Asking For A Friend, have you got the time?
- Yes, mate, of course. It's seven o'clock, Tonka.
- Thanks, mate. I was asking for a friend! LOLoutLOUD
- Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. What a good remark.
- You there, Ian McQuaid, the only writer on this site with a credible portfolio of work, you haven't got the time, have you?
- Tonka! Good to see you, mate. It's seven o'clock.
- Have you still got my hard house cassette I gave you in 2014, Ian? Only, it's the only bedroom DJ mixtape I made that I kept, and I place a lot of sentimental value on it.
- Hello, Ivan Smagghe. What's the time?
- Seven o'clock.
These try-hard, east London/Peckham/wherever arseholes who run this shit-haircut, trendy website wouldn't give me the time of day if I wasn't letting them play on my brand new SNES. I'm WELL aware of THAT, but here I am; Wednesday night, Nintendo Classic Mini: Super Nintendo Entertainment System and two control pads under my arm, whistling the theme from the Dhalsim level as I visualise knocking everyone out on Street Fighter II at the inaugural Street Fighter II Tournament at Ran$om Note HQ.
Did it happen? Did it fuck. All the best people couldn't make it, so we're re-arranging for next week or the week after. I'm glad really, because it meant I could get absolutely fucking terminated on lager in a pub in Southwark on Wednesday night with my REAL friends who have REAL jobs and I didn't have to ponce off to east London in a rush. It all worked out in MY favour, as per usual. Plus, I get more time to practice. I really want to win this tournament.
< > I was watching the lezzers with my bezzer yesterday afternoon when a rat-a-tat-tat went the door. I said, "listen love, I'd better stop watching this clip and go and answer the door. It might be some more vinyl, or a CD, or some MP3s for me to listen to and plug, I mean, review on here. He said, "Ja Tonka, geh und komm die Tür. Ich bleibe hier und masturbiere zu diesen red hot XXX Lesben auf youporn.com. Sei nicht zu lang, denn ich brauche diesen Schlittenhund von dir bis zu meinen festen, haarigen, werkst du, bevor ich gehe und die Kinder von der Schule abholen werde."
I said, "you what?", but he just stared back at me and rolled his eyes and carried on carrying on. The doorbell rang again, or the door got knocked - it was one or the other - and I went and answered it. It wasn't the postman with some fresh new dance music tracks at all, it was Theresa May! I said, "Mrs. May, what a surprise, do come in. What do you want? Do you want a cup of tea? Do you want a sit down? Take your coat off, Mrs. May. Do you mind sitting in a room with two men as they JACK OFF over lesbian clips on the internet? You don't mind that, do you? No? I thought you might, if I'm honest. Well, are you sure? You'd rather sit with me on my own? Well, I don't know what my bezzer would say about that, I'm afraid, I'd have to ask. What's that, Mrs. May? I don't ask, I tell, and if I want to play, I play by your rules? Mmmmmmm. I love it when you're assertive, Theresa. Mmmmmmm, fuck yes. Are you sure we should be doing this in the hallwa...fucking hell, this bit isn't funny enough to carry it through. I thought I'd do a neat bit of social commentary about Theresa May being homophobic and shit at presenting herself at Tory conferences, but being really good in bed and, eventually, shedding the homophobia by engaging in a mmf bisexual romp in a west London living room, but I'm not skilled enough as a writer to carry it off, and I don't think there's ever been any suspicion that she's got anything against the LGBT community. None of this makes sense, and I shouldn't have started writing about it.
< > I was in the pub with my old Hotflush muckers last week, catching up about dance music and shooting the breeze AND putting the world to rights. We'd been drinking heavily all afternoon, we'd all been taking turns to do drugs in the bogs, and spirits were high when I plucked up the courage to approach the boss, Scuba, for a chat at the bar. My jaw was rolling all over the shop, but I got my words out ok. I asked him what he'd been up to this year. He gave me a massive hug, kissed my cheek and was scratching the back of my head as he said, "Like many people, I've spent a lot of time this year thinking about the paths we could be headed down over the next few decades, many of which seem to point to catastrophic scenarios in society and the environment which were unthinkable until very recently. One of the things that interests me the most is considering the journey of consciousness that leads people down paths which subvert their own previously held political morality. Musically, this has been a slightly different way of working for me, but it's also been one of the few positive ways I've found to channel my attempts to make sense of our recent past and possible future."
Our eyes were locked, and I began to scratch the back of Scuba's head. I opened my mouth to speak; "It sounds to me, Paul, that you're describing an EP that inaugurates a fictional timeline of events set in a hypothetical future where a climate-related disaster acts as a catalyst for a complete overturn in society, the repercussions of which will be explored subsequently in the music on the EP. Am I right?"
We were both scratching the backs of each other's heads now, eyes locked and huge grins spread right across the front of our faces. He said, "Yes, Tonka, that's exactly right. I love you, man. I'm talking about an EP I'm putting out on Hotflush on 20 October 2017 under my alias, SCB. It's called Below The Line and I think it's my best work yet. I'll have to send you a copy of it."
I said, "No, Paul. I'll pay for it. Seriously." And I started rooting through my pockets. I pulled out a fifty pound note and put it in Scuba's pocket. We embraced for what seemed like forever and then started dancing to Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac, which had just come on the jukebox.
Below The Line by SCB is out on Hotflush Recordings on 20th October 2017 - BUY IT
A1 Five Degrees
A2 Opposition Division
B1 Confidence Trick
B2 The Cut
< > I'll see you all next week. I hope you all have a really good weekend and a nice week ahead. Bye bye, everybody, bye bye.