[	mood	|	numb	]
[	music	|	It's an iPod-free day	]

I honestly hope there'll be a third Sugar, as it was pretty much the one thing I've had to get excited about lately. As Alex attests **, everything about it pretty much worked (Ken scored extra points for 'It's Tricky', but loses most of 'em for Eiffel 65; I proved my point about big beat in 2005; I did the splits again and the "afterparty" at The Spanish Bar was easily as good, even allowing me to trade Alex for a short blonde with Beyonce-shaming skills), though really, I'd rather do it in Manchester, where comfort zones aren't such a prevailing currency. Not to take anything away from our attendees, but my fondest memories of DJing (and they are longer than those of my cohorts) involved the surprising and delighting of people of open ears and wobbly legs, proving the danceability of Lemon Jelly, psyche rock and unknown Japanese blenderpop in the same hour every other month. Especially that time with the lesbians...

Saturday and Sunday were spent realising how much I'm coming to dislike London. I mean, hey, I was born here; I've always been here, discounting 13 years of boarding schools and universities back to back, and I'll likely die here, or perhaps in transit over an ocean. And I will always love this city. But I'm beginning to become as disenchanted with the people here as I did in Manchester 4 years ago. The gem-to-twat ratio has suddenly gone completely askew, and that's just the amount of people who snubbed my pitch to show up on Friday night alone - conversely, half of my genuinely supportive and worthwhile friendset this year were originally found at the other end of an internet connection. Though if those people would be gracious enough to gmail me some new music while I wait for a new home net connection, there could be awesome X-Mas presents in your future ;-).

Speaking of, I intend on going to Ghana for the holiday, though if there's a cool alternative, I'll consider it. I found myself wondering "why not move back?" just 5 minutes ago, and y'know what? Maybe I shouldn't wait until my 40s to do so. I might live longer, and get to see the birth of a new Africa in the bargain. Certain exceptions aside, I'm usually better at everything the second time!

Which leads me to ask: should I finish that Shortwave Set review? It's no shorter or worse than any of the consistent analyses jeff_worrell   has been producing for most of the year now, and since Taller In Many Ways and Come And Get It have expanded my 2005 best records list, I need to move on soon.

My interview today went well, but the ball is very much in my court. A part of me suspects it would just make me dislike the City even more, but today was particularly worth it for the words of the wise provided by Kobi and Bel, who are pretty much two of the most unbelievable people I will ever know.

** The 'Voodoo People' moment was better than the 'Dario moment' - more seats emptied, more raving undertaken. And to think, I nearly chose 'Charly'...

Sooner or later, a record comes along to give you self-awareness simply by spelling out the way things are. This is the way it is with The Debt Collection, debut showcase for the Victorian Funk stitch-n-mix pop vignettes of S-E London's Andy, Ulrika and Dave. An outfit with something to say and a way of saying so that leaves you in doubt of their passion. Or their skill. Let them tell you a story.

Recently, Andy Pettit admitted "Drink brought us together" ("And it will probably split us apart," he happened to add, but maybe that's for later). It's a simple honesty that, like the songs he pens and performs alongside his bandmates, speaks to the heart of our general modern existence. Drink is either invoked or implied in 3 of The Debt Collection's best songs ('Just Goes To Show', 'Better Than Bad' and next single, 'Repeat To Fade') but in a way as to provoke a thought or two on why we lean on it more than we might realise. Take the first instance: 'Better Than Bad' proclaims "All those barflies drink themselves stupid/We don't need no filthy booze to play our Cupid", stating an intent to rise above, but it's a situation of irony. With nothing much on TV "cept something funny", the group amuse themselves by heading out to a new bar just in case the booze and the barflies are better, tastier, more capable of helping them forget their troubles for a night. The pure jauntiness of the ukelele-funk backing will distract you from the uncanny protrait of your own single life (OK, OK, my single life), but listen to the lyrics and you do start to wonder whatver happened to aspirations. 'Repeat To Fade' and 'Just Goes To Show's stories of perpetual disappointment and the foolish search for validation in other things and other people merely cement the message and remind us that throughout life, all we really want are answers for the way things are and why they have to be.

(to be concluded)

To start, here's 5 sock-rocking songs I shock to:

Paris Hilton - 'Screwed' (Alex G Remix): The centre-pice of the teen-movie. The heroine makes a major decision: she's gonna get upfront and personal with the boy she wants to be with. Will he oblige? Has she blown it before it's even begun to blossom? Will he creep into her dimly-lit love nest and quell the vortex of her emotions? Will she film the ensuing FRUITAGE and leak it on the internet? And what does Alex G make of all this?

Neil & Iraiza - 'Supreme Day': A drumbeat feyly marches. A slide whistle keeps on poppin'. The ivories tinkle away into a twilight dreamstate as a guitar gently acompanies the sound of the angels' own chimes. And two moptopped Tokyo geniuses sing of the best day of their lives yet to come. When it comes down to it, we may live in a world where the M*g*c N*mbsk*lls are popular, but best believe they would play the butt of every "big mama" joke to sound a tenth as good as the music Iraiza/Hirohisa Horie plays with such ease of effort and abundance of flair.

Cubismo Grafico - 'Fog132': For anyone who ever wished Capitol K's underrated 'Pillow' would morph into a more refined sunshine indie-pop dance coo. CG is the "Neil" of the abovementioned, and while at times, the scope of his ambition can exceed his ability to tame it, this combines the lofty, sweet romanticism of Green Gartside with the snares of California's pop past and Paris' disco present.

Mylo - 'Drop The Pressure' (Rex The Dog Mix): If Rex is taking Mylo by the scruff of the neck, it must be Opposite Day. Wonder Dog's SAW-vs.-Kraftwerk skills kick into mondo overtime to create the feelgood remix of September.

The Beastie Boys - 'Just A Test': Mad science, Beastie American Style.

Spend less time with ILX men and more with ILX ladies. cis , Kate, Anna, Colette, Marianna et al are all excellent human beings, not that this is a sudden revelation or anything. Though Anna should be aware that my hair is neither a sponge, nor a bouncy castle.

To not forget to play a Sugababes song ever again (more on my girls later).

To play more UK Garage. How I miss the days when it was everywhere.

To play less electrohouse at pop parties, even if it's remixed Neptunes or Daft Punk and unless it's Tiefschwarz or Moonbootica. Even if '16 Lovers' did better than 'Plug It In'.

More Chemical Brothers singles (as I rejected playing 'Block Rockin' Beats' a second before putting 'Dig Your Own Hole' on instead), less Chemical Brothers album tracks.

Jordan Knight still gets no respect.

Pissed-up strangers on the floor are still my kind of deranged dancers.

That the 'Losing My Edge' parody is better in all ways than the original (for the curious, it uses the actual Killing Joke riff the original song replays, so I've been told). The vocals were a little lost in the mix, which meant that some amusing gags about paedophiles were lost on everybody. One man's musical Brass Eye special is my secret weapon.

That mid-90s house classics still resonate deeply in 2005. And that pairing my favourite one of all with Plus-Tech Squeeze Box's greatest remix results in 10 perfect minutes of definitive dancefloor devastation.

That most of my offline friends will likely never hear me play out, but the loyal ones will eventually show (5 minutes after you finish playing).

That I almost definitely prefer vinyl DJing, even if I must "move with the times".

And that Lex is the only boy on earth to be proud of getting a free copy of the Evening Standard magazine, even when it was short of male eye candy. How indie.

[	mood	|	blank	]
[	music	|	Elephany Man ft. Young Blood & Twista - 'Jook Gal' (remix)	]

skillextric, get ready to pick up a knife and fork and put your words on a plate. I hope you're hungry.

See, at FATS, I happened to ask Swygart why 'Disco Biscuit', released today by Cagedbaby, was omitted from the upcoming Stylus singles jukebox. My contributions have become increasingly intermittent (mostly because the music is currently about 80% unlistenable), so the question was more in the interests of fairness than for my own benefit. Heck, I doubt anyone besides me would have given it more than a 5. Nevertheless, WBS was adamant that it was vinyl only, despite the fact that the previous (also ignored) single was a multi-format release, which Southern Fried tends to bestow upon their (rare) album acts (that is, if anyone else recalls Space Cowboy). No matter, I decided that he was wrong and struggled through the role of entertainer for the next hour.

Fast forward to the following morning. I awaken to a package in the mail that can only be CDs. I haven't ordered any lately, and as jeff_worrell works close to my home, I figured it couldn't be him either. The first thing that pops out is a note of "Congrats!" written on official Southern Fried note paper. The next things that pop out are Cagedbaby stickers, badges, flyers, postcards and two CD singles. One for '16 Lovers'. And the other? Take a guess. PWNED.

See, over a week back, I tried to enter a guestlist competition to see CB at Fabric. The massive hangover I acquired from the night before meant I checked my e-mails later than normal and was out of time, but The Fried was gracious enough to take my details and enter me in for the runners-up prizes. And the rest is a brief moment of history. I never even won school raffles or bingo games, so I'm considering this all as one to grow on.

Best part? I get to use this picture. Swygart:

As a bonus, '16 Lovers' went down well at FATS to boot. But I doubt I'll play it again.

[	mood	|	contemplative	]
[	music	|	Len - You Can't Stop The Bum Rush	]

(Title courtesy of 'Just Goes To Show', The Shortwave Set, 2005)

For those of you who can remember back to Rob's b-day, I finally found Gaz's bar on Wardour Street last night after some hobnobbing with Posh Friendster peeps down in Chelsea. Gaz's has sweat dripping off the walls, ex-public school types (/old friends) - like me, natch - standard regulation menkos, pretty women, reggae, barely enough dead cat space and some supremely snotty bitches. It's like a jungle sometimes. According to a mutual friend who was there last night, Kardy's exhibition will in fact be at Two Floors on Kingly Street, but I will get her to investigate the Boggle some evening.

My final day as a web monkey has involved being paid not to work, a suspect pub lunch and trying not to think about my conversation five minutes ago with the most beautiful girl in the workplace.

My hair - huge or chopped and screwed? I am eyeing up barber shops lately with increasing temptation to go and reintroduce my grade 0.5 cut to the planet. Of course, after getting haircuts in Ghana for about 50p over a year, it's almost like you can't go back.

Final thought: that Len album was dissed way too much. I'm gonna go listen to it again. I should make time to listen to the Fight Club score too, for appropriate and obvious reasons.