Back in the summer of 2006, DJ Fresh (drum n’ bass/dupsteppin’ badass from Britain) dropped a heavy, gritty, GAWjuss record called Escape From Planet Monday. This coming August, Fresh is back with his second full-length solo album, Kryptonite. Here’s the video for the first single, a revamped version of his ’08 release “Gold Dust”, featuring new vocals by the Jamaican dance hall diva Ce’Cile and astounding performances by American Double Dutch Champions, Jumpers In Command:
If dis don’t rev ya blood up, check dem vitals. (Directed by Ben Newman.)
Want to explore the rich history of Double Dutch? Start off with “Ready Your Ropes“, an in-depth three-part article over at Holy Roller Productions dot com. Fantastic primer.
Since Ross has been on a bit of a John Hurt kick lately, writing up both Jim Henson’s The Storyteller and Krapp’s Last Tape in recent editions of FAM, this week’s better-late-than-never Better Than Coffee follows up with Hurt’s more musical side: his turn as an experimental composer in Jerzy Skolimowski’s 1978 horror drama The Shout. The above is a scene from the movie with absolutely no spoilers; just a tactile landscape of metallic noise. [Via Wobbly]
This is a recent interview Fry granted SPLASHLIFE, a new international youth volunteer/activist organization. It’s titled “What I Wish I’d Known at 18”. Geared toward the concerns of young adults today, his discourse is consistently insightful and reassuring with a final summation that knocks it out of the park:
“I suppose the thing I’d most would have like to have known or be reassured about is that in the world is what counts more than talent, what counts more than energy or concentration or commitment or anything else is kindness. And the more in the world you encounter kindness, and cheerfulness (which is kind of its amiable uncle or aunt), just the better the world always is – and all the big words: virtue, justice, truth, are dwarfed by the greatness of kindness.”
HAPPY MERDAY! Your co-editors wish you blankets of autumn leaves, wreaths of kitten-bound turtles, a harem of lamé-wearing Italian 80s TV popstars, a barrel of the finest mocha with a side of bum-biscuits, dusted with poop jokes and polished with mermaid tears, delivered by a stampede of naked hobbits on WETA legs. Every day, we marvel at your ability to juggle music recording, editorship, cross-hemisphere time travel, and simply being there for your friends in times of need. You leave a path of growing dendrites wherever you go, inspiring all who surround you to do their best. Like watching a magician who outdoes herself with each new act, we shiver with ANTICI… (master-master-master)… PATION of The Parlour Trick album that you’re probably working on as we type these words, and everything else that you’ll accomplish in the year to come.
Birthday card by Paul Komoda, who’s pig-sitting Mer’s beloved Ingmar Superstar while she’s in New Zealand.
G’day. We’re not sleepy, and there ain’t no place we’re going to, so here’s David Zellner blowing a raspberry in slow motion, as shot by Wiley Wiggins.*
*This post is my shamefully lazy subtle way of reminding the Coilhouse readership that Wiggins and the Zellner Bros are under-appreciated cinematic geniuses of our time. Now go. Explore. Lose hours and hours of your work day spelunking their respective websites.
Just a wee bit o’ vintage muppet-on-muppet violence to kick start your morning. The backstory, via Wikia:
In 1957, Jim Henson was approached by a Washington, D.C. coffee company to produce commercials for Wilkins Coffee. The local stations only had ten seconds for station identification, so the Muppet commercials had to be lightning-fast — essentially, eight seconds for the commercial pitch and a two-second shot of the product.
From 1957 to 1961, Henson made 179 commercials for Wilkins Coffee and other Wilkins products, including Community Coffee and Wilkins Tea. The ads were so successful and well-liked that they sparked a series of remakes for companies in other local markets throughout the 1960s.
The ads starred the cheerful Wilkins, who liked Wilkins Coffee, and the grumpy Wontkins, who hated it. Wilkins would often do serious harm to Wontkins in the ads — blowing him up, stabbing him with a knife, and smashing him with a club, among many other violent acts.
I think that any fan of David Lynch’s cult-classic television series Twin Peaks will agree that what the show’s legacy has really been lacking is a hip-hop tribute. Luckily, nerdcore rapper MC Chris has stepped up to the challenge, dropping an Autotuned ode to one of the most amazingly strange shows to ever appear on the magic picture box, presented here with fan-made video.
Good morning, loves. How was your weekend? I spent most of mine stumbling around the San Mateo county fairgrounds, gaping at the endlessly astonishing/inspiring/overstimulating 2-day geextravaganza that is Maker Faire. Still feeling a bit fried. Pleasantly so. Speaking of getting fried at Maker Faire, here’s a glimpse of what the ArcAttack! performances on the appropriately named “Tesla Stage” looked and sounded like:
Yes. That’s what a man in chain mail wrangling pure lightning looks like. His name is Patrick “Parsec” Brown. He’s ArcAttack’s MC. I sincerely hope that dude gets hella laid. That goes for ALL the guys on the ArcAttack crew. Way more groupie worthy than the average rock band, if you ask me.
Based in Austin, Texas, ArcAttack’s been developing their tech and stage shows for the better half of a decade now. For their astounding audio/visual displays, ArcAttack has invented a completely original DJ setup:
HVDJ pumps music through a PA system while two specially designed DRSSTC’s (Dual-Resonant Solid State Tesla Coils) act as separate synchronized instruments. These high tech machines produce an electrical arc similar to a continuous lightning bolt and put out a crisply distorted square wave sound reminiscent of the early days of synthesizers.
ArcAttack performing the Doctor Who theme song at Maker Faire, 2010. Photo by darthdowney.
First and foremost, ArcAttack is all about putting on a show that is not just a concert, but an otherworldly experience. In doing so with the technology that we’ve created, we hope to inspire minds, the young and the old, to take up an interest in science, the arts, and their applications, to examine where they intersect, where they are going, and to re-examine the works of past researchers and performers such as Nikola Tesla and Delia Derbyshire in light of the ever evolving face of this amazing world. Maybe they’ll have as much fun as we have. But either way, we want them all to enjoy the show, and maybe, just maybe, be inspired to help to leave the world a little better than the way they found it.
Are you awake yet? Are you in love yet? Many more ArcAttack clips after the jump.
“Reggie Watts is a most unusual talent: a huge vocal range, a natural musicality, and a sidesplitting wit. Is he a comedian? A singer? A performance artist? I’ve seen him a few times since then and I still can’t decide. Whatever, he ain’t like nobody else.” – Brian Eno
“There’s no one out there like Reggie Watts. Reggie covers everything from ancient history and racism to pop-culture, in a heady mix of improvised music, comedy and social insight. This guy has to be seen to be believed.” –Time Out London
“Sharp, wry and elusive … Reggie moves seamlessly from skits to songs to off-kilter stand-up, while talking in a subway train full of accents.” – New York Times
NSFW
NYC, East Village, 2004: a sharp-tongued, bright-eyed comedic musical improv Situationist ninja named Reggie Watts began performing at Eugene Mirman‘s standup night at club Rififi. Beyond the close knit downtown outre NYC standup scene, or the Seattle music scene (where Watts lived in the 90s, performing in all manner of bands), few seemed to know too much about Watts at the time. Thank FUCK that’s changed. These days, the beatboxing Line 6 DL4 wizard is going viral online, opening for Coco, turning up on late night talk shows, winning awards, arranging avant-garde museum gigs, and touring his thoughtful, practiced, fully-actualized, genre-obliterating oddness all over the world. His latest album, Why Shit So Crazy?! drops on May 18th. Many more clips after the jump. Also see:
Last weekend, I ventured to a fundraising bash at the gargantuan, labyrinthine Vulcan complex in industrial Oakland. Coilhouse correspondent Neil Girling has aptly described the bohemian warehouse collective as “something of a dollhouse mixed with a rabbit warren.” Magical place. The folks over there literally just finished building out their new Vulcan Theater wing. Tons of gonzo musical acts and DJs came out to help them raise some cash and celebrate: Thee Hobo Gobbelins, David Satori of Beats Antique, Totter, Sour Mash Hug, various Vau de Vire Society performers, Sisters of Honk, Gooferman, Barry Syska, and a band I’d never heard of before, Tornado Rider:
From the back of the crowded room, I watched the butch-yet-elfin trio set up their gear and line check. Warming up, drummer Scott Manke and bassist Graham Terry displayed precise and prodigious punk/metal chops and sported broad, welcoming smiles. Bad asses, both. They were soon joined by singer/cellist Rushad Eggleston, who wore a Robin Hood cap with hot pink lightning bolts adhered to it, a matching pair of exercise shorts, lime green tights, sneakers, and little else.
Two words sum up Eggleston’s persona succinctly: delightfully implausible. His countenance and physique are a bit like Frodo Baggins’… that is, if Frodo was hella manic, worked out a lot and washed down his lembas bread with entire crates of Volt High Performance Energy Drinks.
Eggleston plugged his axe (lav mic’d, plastered with day-glo stickers, guitar strapped) into a batch of effects pedals and let loose with a string of arpeggiations that could leave no doubt: this fella had been classically schooled out the wazoo, but long since abandoned baroque, powdered wig fare for PURE UNTRAMMELED RAWKNESS.
Tornado Rider launched fists first into a blazing 40 minute set that peaked with a song called “I’m a Falcon”. Manke and Terry provided thunderous vamping as Eggelston leaped from the stage, scaled the wall with his cello slung over his shoulder and perched, teetering, on the balcony railing to rock out, howling “I’M A FALCON. I’M A FALCON. YEAH… THE FASTEST BIRD ALIVE. THE MASTER OF THE SKY. YEEAAHHYUH!” Here’s a clip of that same song performed at the Magnolia Festival a while ago. Eggleston took the madness a step further, launching into a tuneful, shredding solo while hanging upside down from the ceiling:
Eggleston’s jaw-dropping climb begins about 4 minutes in.
Guys, you really need to see this shit live. It’s raw, joyful, silly, gorgeous virtuosity. Go. Seriously. GO. Dance. Get your asses rocked and grin until your faces hurt. You won’t regret it, I promise. Tornado Rider is touring all over the States this year, with more dates in the works for Europe at some point down the line. Deep southerners, a heads up to you especially– they’ll be playing the fuck of Florida this week and next. GO. GO. GO. GO. And a very good morning to you all.
