"experimental"?
Out of context: Reply #14
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:), my favorite and long standing client, Paul Edge pretty much lets me run loose with his site..
http://www.djpauledge.com
There is an overhaul due for Sep 8 launch, and I basically get to do whatever the hell I want, although I agree about what pays the bills recently is more staid.
People are taking less drugs, oh, and clients are less willing to spend their money on something that doesnt make them appear straight laced and solid, they have jittery druggless, skint shareholders, remember.
We have, imho, just rounded the cusp of the right wing backlash to drug fuelled 90s, when, lets face it, at one point I new one person with a paying job and went out from Tuesday till Monday night. Then the global republican/world bank syndicates realised their monopoly on the system was fucked if they didnt get everyone indoors and sat down, and hey ho, 10 years later thats what we're all doing. Reduce the money supply to the middle and working class over educated intelligensia, chuck in a war now and then, to keep everyone too anxious to ever really relax in between credit card payments, turn the News into 'After Effects Plugins with a spattering of ill informed sound bytes' and things are just about on an even keel.
Techno hasn't quite got buried in the aftermath of the dance music explosion, which daily rains around our ears amid reports of dropping club attendances and poor shite superstar dj cd sales.
Real music is back, no glitz no fluff, and no - its not nu suburban punk wave goth core, and its not that friggin _insertgeneric genre_'clash' with sodding lesbian robots talking vocoded nothings over sad 80's DX7 loops, as a vic 20 game loop plods sedentarily into 8-bit oblivion.
Check out some of the mixes on Pauls site and you'll see what I mean...people need real fucking techno, bang bang bang, bang - turn it right up, turn the fucking lights off, and wear scruffy trainers, for christs sakes.
Stop drinking.
Fuck trance, fuck 'lounge-core' (WTF?), fuck coked up glitzy shitey de-de-dee trace and all its underage, clueless muppetted insurance broker followers who think they invented going out and getting nutted at some mass market corporate shitehole where you actually have to wear fucking shoes to get in, and fuck their black rimmed glasses wearing media type mates who, when they're not stood around sniffing prattishly at the back of a Hoxton club on an 'aha-clash Wednesday', are sat glued to their friggin G5s knocking out souless cookie cutter nu-corporate Helvetica Neue garbage rather than throwing themselves under a friggin train at the earliest opportunity.