The roll-over of the wave of generations is soon complete, and we observe the grit and silt dragged up somehow has avoided the latest generation until the last point of maturity. Where previous generations have dealt with the lies of television and hollywood, to find that dystopia is the inevitable work in progress, the deepest betrayal is currently etching into the children and younger adults of today.
The understanding that they, like we, have been mis-sold PPI I mean an illusion of selfhood somehow equalling success.
In the fevered dreams of marketers, the selling of an idea of self-marketting is like finding the cash-cow that milks itself. Personality, the empty calorie of culture, is the property being sold to thousands and BILLIONS to those who lack emotional connection to others in simulation of a community. We have been fish that swim, and now we are all finding eachother caught on the net.
Problem is, only those who are sought out are being told they can be anything, and will do almost anything to remain in their provident niche.
Why we have become this is a matter of light pattern stimulated habits, albeit a long-story with vanished news articles. I will pre-qualify this by stating I will try to prove my reasoning. Until I can I will leave that stone unturned. For now.
Trash talk is the language of the internet, you may think that it is english, but all I see is sloganised emotivity and memes. When we take a measure of the average frenetic linguistics of our keyboard bashing contemporaries (it was hard to think of a kind word for them), we see a tenacity to win any argument inversely proportioned with the ability to form reasoned, well structured arguments. While this is nothing new and has been happening since the dawn of Tabloids, we do see a more personal hint of corrosivity; A need to wage vendetta on a qwerty-outlined, unemotional wall with all the impressionability of a formica worktop.
Where then, does this corrosion proceed?
A generation of orphaned cubicle-kids, who in their viable lives with unviable futures find a hint of things that scares them, insecurity. Show me any human who cannot guarrantee their futre and you will see a cut-throat in the making, and we are making a nation of them. Why this is the case I may only speculate, but we must secure this season against the tides of endemic uncertainty.
More to follow..
Now before I launch into this tirade I am deciding whether or not to restarting Scathing Praise, a pet project in which I gave the highs and lows of regular cultural contacts and experiences I came across.
As I am aware that this blog post may come across as a little harsh I ask you to keep in mind that this review is borne of personal experience, as opposed to personal opinions of anyone involved. This site is a professional exhibition of my work, but my experience that I am about to describe struck me at many levels including as a budding professional and passionate artist.
I am a big fan of ‘Old School’ Drum and Bass, breakbeat, funk and roots HipHop. I love most good examples of any genre, but I love to dance so you can see why I am led by beats in things 🙂
Freestylers are a musical bucket-list item for me since I first heard their album ‘Raw as Fuck’, and I still own that album in my archives even if the case has been cracked by being taken on holiday with me. So when I heard a big name from my personal music history of fandom were playing a local venue ON A NIGHT I MAGICALLY HAD OFF! Well you could register my love for the idea.
What I expected and what got were largely eclipsing concepts, as my money was taken and found myself at the upstairs venue of the financially troubled voodoo-lounge bar of Plymouth in Devon, U.K. The place was clean, largely, except for the slick floor that caused myself and at least one other person I saw to fall flat on their ass. Not cool, but there were signs up and the staff were trying.
The night was reasonable as expectations rose, sound quality was well balanced and the regular band stage area was a great place to have yourself resonated bodily by the bass and sub speakers. So far a top night, but I was worried.
The main stage area so many people were dancing on was normally reserved for the big acts with multiple decks or instrument playing rock bands, why was the secluded DJ Booth in the corner the only area ready for performance?
Wait till 1:00 A.M, the night having started at aroun 10:00PM, a bit long but if they all had to travel it would be worth it, right?
Now I am in my day job a normal bar-plodding cocktail maker, so what I was thinking was; “I’ve spent £15 on what was essentially local D.J’s so far. I can get the same elsewhere for a fiver or less, don’t let me down, Freestylers!”
1:00 AM passes, and I’ve drunk a little much, a further 40 minutes pass before we findout he’s snuck into the booth to begin his set!
Was a I let down? Monumentally. Don’t get me wrong, it was a great DnB Set (good D.J’ing and solid sound quality throughout, et al) but it wasn’t a ‘Freestylers’ Gig.
It was a ‘Freestyler’ solo D.J Set.
I barely recognised a single track from their catalogue I knew, it was mostly the D.J’s own preferred picks, which is fair enough..
I wanted the Freestylers
I PAID to see the Freestylers.
There wasn’t even a decent M.C or front man, the D.J did his work in isolation, barely interacted with the crowd. It wasn’t a gig, we may as well have had the radio on a BBC ‘takeover’ set.
This is coming from a years long fan who would always speak up for them, but after this friday gone, I can’t allow myself to recommend them as a gig to see, what was advertised was misleading and Artists with better sense (Cough, Pendulum) say if they are D.Jing or performing as a band and how many of them are going to each performance.
Sorry guys, but where was the the forth-rightness, and honesty I expected from roots based DnB Heros?
5/10 and less than expected, good night, overpriced into disappointment.