without a doubt one for the 'songs for my own funeral' list. performed by babelfishh on the out-of-tune piano that was subsequently burnt ceremonially for the
'scathing sentiments' video, and featuring the blistering twin-chew of himself and evak, devastating line after devastating line. there are few vocal combinations that can drive a song as hard as the 667 texas league members operating together at full capacity. i first heard this tape on the rooftop of a crumbling apartment block in gut city under a blistering spring sun having just returned from the cool of the mountains of the l'abruzzo. things have never been the same since.
i am about to turn seventeen years old, taping funkmaster flex sessions from westwood's radio one rap show, picking up vinyl from wyld pytch, selectadisc and mr. bongo, rocking oversized bleubolt jeans, airwalk gto's with fat laces, a stussy shirt, a tommy hill hoodie and a carhart baseball cap. riding my chrome bmx around croydon and working on my freestyling and dj-ing skills whilst continuing to start seriously thinking more about my beats and rhymes; as if the summer would never end. so much classic material was released that year, that summer, but this one 12", criminology / glaciers of ice. the drums, the samples, the flows, the lyrics. utterly hypnotic, utterly captivating, and still standing the test of the time with each new summers' passing.
it is the summer of '95, late at night, and i am riding my bmx through croydon on a solo night mission, headphones on, 'return to the 36 at full volume', every song just blowing me away with every listen. but then 'snakes' would come on and just up the ante one-hundred fold. that old kung-fu flick sample intro, the bassline rising like a vast serpent from the desert sands, the utterly monolithic beat driving it forward, then this utterly spell-binding vocal sample to lay a serene and soothing veil across the track before the killah priest begins the immense waves of staggering vocals, each emcee drawing us in further and furhter, layer by layer, and i need scarcely attempt to draw attention to ol' dirty's verse itself; pure madness, especially by mid-nineties standards, yet so utterly captivating, affecting and so driven, sheer delight in the hypnotic delirium.
in the turmoil and chaos of the summer of 2012 this song was a calm center in the long-storm. the steadily measured-out mahavishnu sample, the relentless beat, and perseph's utterly enthralling flow and lyric sheet, calm and meticulous. devastating line after devastating line, bar after bar. a mirror readjusted into a mosaic. a burning hot summer sun beating down upon the rhein-main, texas winds of 667, slow movements through the chaos of the long days, the azure blue of heavens and the white-washed walls of the hof, earl grey haze and penning lines in notebooks to be returned to once the relative cool of the night descends.
no.015 : scaramanga - seven eyes, seven horns
with the first stab of the organ i close my eyes and wait for the drums to come crashing in. it is forever the summer of '98 and i am forever in paul slater's car, late at night, turning from the coulsdon road onto petersfield crescent, returning home from another night taking in another hip-hop show in the city. gazing out of the window, the shimmering starlight, the warmth of the evening on the breeze and scaramanga's relentless bars, him detailing nostalgic scenes over the hymn-like track, and now these nostalgic teenage dreams are my own. that intangible sense of youth, of feeling as if always on a new path, even with long childhood memories already gathered. i was fifteen... this is exactly what it's like.
it is spring 2009, and i am in oskar ohlson's old apartment in mainz, germany, with babelfishh and jamesphoney. after spending the previous six weeks touring through north america and europe we found ourselves with a day off, and spent it near-motionless, moving between oskar's room and his balcony, sweltering in the unexpected heatwave that proceeded the fierce rainstorm which would follow the subsequent evening. babelfishh had a few songs on a beaten-up usb stick for our listening pleasure. this was the first time that i head 'holiday of sisiphus' and 'big top telos', twin-devastations from the forthcoming third papervehicle album, still a year from release, and also the sounds of hank iii utterly owning this amazingly-simple track, which has been stuck in my head ever since.
a song that feels as though it has always been with me. how i have auditioned its lilting tones in so many places, at so many different times, different stages in my adult life. how it has come to haunt me with my own memories as it first haunted me with some strange knowing or understanding the very first time it's saddened tones echoed out before me. this sensitive brevity, these few simple lines, this simple text to transport us directly there. we are within the moment, completely lost within the moment, and it is as if all truly is lost. but how some poetic beauty remains, to instill within us a vague hope, the flickering candle-light holding us close til the dawn rises.
i first heard this track soon after its release, when a close friend at the time brought over his newly-acquired vinyl copy. the album spoke to me a little, this track being the highlight, but it was not til many years later that i came to fall under its spell completely. it was the end of the summer of 2009 and i was in sardegna, in fertilia, brewing tea on a camping stove under the bright starlight, feeling the gentle breeze blowing in and listening to the whispering of the long grass that outlined the estuary making its way inland from the sandy shore. this soothing song sounding out from a portable cassette player and the waves of peace, calm and tranquility describing to me exactly what it's like.
the bleakest of devastation. the body burned away. one of the first songs: ohia piece i heard, in a folder of loose mp3's from a friend which arrived in time for me to directly scoop up the 'didn't it rain' vinyl and fall deeply into this haunting, hypnotic, desolate world. there is something so definite, so measured, so exact, so precise in this peace; this slow-unfolding that jason molina was so adept at crafting. it is the slowly crumbling monolith, being slowly worn away by the elements, the slow grinding into dust of all things, the inevitable fate of anything that dares to stand in the depths of the unending storm. this is exactly what it's like.
as much as i have religiously auditioned their twin vinyl releases, each time i hear their songs i am directly transported in my thoughts to all the myriad live shows i have caught of the ohlsons alongside babelfishh across the murky wastes of the old world. from kellers to bunkers, to az's to bars and clubs, and always the same unstoppable wave of energy that, once unleashed, can only bring about wave after wave after wave on twin-headed chewing madness over the hardest of hitting band setups. babelfishh's text, rendered whole with secondary vocals by winterismyname combined with the musical might of oskar ohlson always charts newfound heights of artistic energy. this is exactly what it's like.
keep safe
jamesreindeer
leipzig, deutschland
23rd november 2013
