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a time for fear
Tuesday, September 16, 2003  
Strange Attractor

Here's a response from a brain beamed in from West Coast sand, sea, hills and valleys, right into the centre of the capital, from one festering in its gloomy, greasy residential slums, following the lines of nineteenth century sewage pipes across canals, rivers, around football fields, alongside an ice rink, bus routes and marshes and emphatic/ecstatic about these routes and then...discovery and revelation always:

a little brick cottage, moth-eaten net curtains and tin pots and kettles lined along a crumbling, cobwebbed wall, surrounded by defunct warehouses beside a shadowy East End canal that morphs into a redeveloped wharf, moared yachts, bland box flats, and featureless luxury, while eels leap, stab and swarm beneath a baking blanket of algae.

For instance, that was another instance, re: the plane above Bloomsbury, below.

I didn't come here for a job, I came here just to be here, I was impelled, well, propelled, my provincial grit drove me to seek out a place, however small, a location and a life in this squall, because it bothered me not being here, and that wasn't dreams or hope or hype, it's just that every time I came here I felt energised, galvanised, and so this gravitational pull inside developed to the point where it began to spoil my surroundings, and when I got here that stopped, and I've never not loved being here. Because London has the romance, beauty and potential of every city, town, village, hamlet, field, hill and valley, magnified, intensified, and multiplied.

Even in this pitiable, broken, wasteful Nation State state, the Eastern Thames gutted and forlon, life sapped by open plan offices and studio flats, for example, it offers as much and more than any Great City coagulating and clinging to this measly, mapped, travel-worn globe, and that immediately negates any other UK city, because they aren't even on the same list. This extreme ditch with its murky water and glittering surface: if the misanthropy and euphoria of this experience doesn't shock, seduce and consume you, then I really don't understand you, and what would we have to agree on?

I came here for the music too and this hardcore continuum that's so big on the blogs, loved with unusual focus and conviction, well, wasn't that also shaped by the unique mystery of London, its myth-making and anonymity, the allure of name and place, recreating the Town and City outline and incline in terms of patchwork, texture, ambience, intensity, "zones of feeling"? The M25 Orbital a portal, secret passage, and runway? London made the music, it added to it: the pirates thrived on the tug and tension between the city's vast scale, the district-disconnected sprawl, and its insularity, its micro-climate, its contained culture. Which is precisely the energy, precisely the atmosphere, unrivalled anywhere (then as now). This insularity is as important, creative, positive as the ability to absorb, devour and expand.

If anyone has a clue as to the merit or origin of the following records please email because I'd like to know what you think and what they are. I never hear them played out on old skool shows these days, and I think they're pretty good, but maybe you don't:
On Remand Timeless World/Black Steel (Part 2) Crack House Productions
Intense Paradox/The Quikening/Journey to the Unknown Rugged Vinyl
Intense The Genesis Project EP Rugged Vinyl
Beyond the Future (Peshay and Bay-B-Kane) Feel It/Mystery Ride (Flatline Mix) Paradise Records
Steve C and Monita The Razor's Edge/Full Cry Skeleton Records

11:49 PM

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