Diss1 (me) and Dastardly from 30KB chatting some thoughts on flags, anthems, nationalism, etc. over "The Anthem" by ace Parisian beatmaker Onra.
"The Anthem", incidentally, was also remade to feature in a Coca-Cola ad for the 2008 Beijing Olympics, though their vision of global unity seems mainly to involve Yao Ming and LeBron James guiding a load of national stereotypes in a really half-arsed battle before toasting each other with soft drinks. Also, the version of the track they used is much inferior, because Onra hadn't cleared the samples from the original and thus they had a musicologist replay everything (by the end, nothing Onra actually did was left on the track). It just doesn't have the right bounce or swagger to it.
If you like the beat, try his 2007 album Chinoiseries, which is all made from sampled Vietnamese and Chinese records (Onra himself is of Vietnamese descent). This is probably the best track on it to these ears, although that's not to say the rest are slacking by any means.
If you like our group, you can check us at Bandcamp, Facebook, MySpace, etc. (Bandcamp is best for listening).
On a personal level, i have a great deal of affection for this one. Not sure why, particularly. The recurring presence of John Prescott is probably something to do with it.
["John Prescott"] *I can't help it, I'm a ladies' man. Now, who wants a punch?*
[diss1] We smash a silent prism. Rhythm fill up the schism. They got a warrant on this recidivist lyricism. i'm feeling sorta hyper. Somebody pass a lighter. i filter flowing through a tetrahydro- sorta cypher. Step to the stage, we *punch* like John Prescott. See for yourself just how much better the best got. Just try and keep the beat. Hold on to your receipt. Murder mystery weekend silencer, guest shot. [AcheZen Pains] A cool belated structure from disjunction as a tool, refuse it. Life lesson and rule: stop, look and listen to music. Cut the wacky sample, as a result you forfeit and lose this. Old school like pterodactyl, prehistoric tune abusers. We bring the new ish, the first thing on your wishlist. The last door to break the knocking hand of the last Jehovah's Witness. Picking the seams for indifference, it's gotta be somebody's business. A hobby tree of commodity, as ugly as you are ambitious. Will this mocking stop? Nah, it's gonna last forever. Spit a nasty fluid, evil like I got a mad vendetta. But you've got to get better because nobody likes your flows. Attack and make your lungs collapse through panic. That's the way it goes. When sober, drunk or stoned, grip tight to microphone, sniff the stuff I'm smoking will leave you with a bleeding nose. Don't get me wrong though, in case misunderstood: I am an artist, but I won't draw blood.
We take the stage and we soar
30,000 rise-to-the-occasions for the problems of keeping it raw
Careful with that thing when you're passin'... *Who's the microphone assassin?*
[AZP] Our lilt's a little lighter, Slim Pickens riding bombs. Flow like a "Beatslope" biter, warm-up phenomenon. Now what the hell's he on? We struck a light chord. For years we take from tears until it appears unclear what we fight for. I write more, that's lesson one from ampheta-metatron. Stomp cities like I'm Megalon, pity what I'm stepping on. The weapon's on, the weapon's aimed and with that grows the guessing game. Solutions for some second fame, we're shooting for a better day. [diss1] 30K is sort of like the new H5N1. Smartest guys in the room, more so than Enron, cuz when a plan go wrong it's not our names on the paper. Already ducked out the back door saying "see ya later!" Second-rate caterers savour lame shit, we on some future tip like "get these motherfucking snakes off my spaceship!" Eject 'em out the airlock. In space, nobody can hear you hiss... ultimate Dolby noise reduc for those who diss [*one!*] Tranquility shattered down to splinters. Style with the bile to turn your nuclear fams to nuclear winters, and when Chernobyl savages hunter/gather the wilderness for dinner i'll claim squatter's rights on the podium of the winner. Check it: back to the city's lights sober. In the overpass, spirits linger in the air like an odour of cheap perfume, piss and chip fat. And this town... is coming like Pripyat.
Wherein AZP delivers incisive, meaningful lyrics about animal rights extremists, and i chat shit about breakfast foods for 16 bars. Contrary to popular belief, the misspelling in the title is deliberate, although no-one can really remember why.
[chorus: both plus Boron Tabernacle Choir]
30,000 Bastards...
[AcheZen Pains] Hold up! A prime cut from these 30,000 nuts. If you're allergic, watch us work your open mouth until it has to shut. Drinking from the cup with Super Saiyan spontaneity. In sync with linguistics, heaven sent like call me deity. May I? ["OUI!"] You can call us monastic: word play's the religion against the merit of rigid scholastics. Take Vs without asking on some premier robber tricks. Don't grasp what we giving? Go sit on the hat of Obelix. Now he's rocking it, it's ALL animal tested. i'm Pro-Test and PETA should have their bones dug up and sequestered. Direct the vets to the exits. Lack of a logic protecting this. Some of the scariest things in the world are the anti-vivisectionists. Now he's wrecking it! But all for medicinal purposes. Nurture this, unleash the worth as it dissipates from surfaces. A discourteous earful of self-destructive skirmishes. Playground thoughts and tactics with an abundance of worthlessness.
[chorus]
[diss1]Le passé est passé. Le présent est présent. L'avenir est à venir. And so we have another year to let the beat dangle off the precipice. i got to pay attention to my head and like that druid, get a fix. Don't bother trynna flavour porridge with them sweetener sticks, you'll just end up with a mess like waiting too long for Weetabix. Meet is what i like to eet yo, i want bacon by the rasher, black pudding and pork sausages after. Most important meal of the day: i leave space to eat rappers for afters with metaphors by the platter and apple sauce relish in my side dish. It's a delicacy. Don't believe me? Ask the chef: he'll say ["OUI!"]. i made the beat, and i'll make a meal too. The top of the food chain, enjoying the view. It's the feeding of the 30K, superfly catering. It's all art, no artificial flavouring.
[AcheZen Pains] Under the rock, a man snaps his own arm off with the precedent to end the gruel. Under the hammer, our ex-prime minister-slash-president plays the fool. What we've got here is a new reign of old fear, the irony of tyranny. It's all too cruel. Forget latter headlines with some imagery. Oh, you missed it? Go check YouTube. Too rude to tell me what to think, if you missed it click on another link to the brink of a meme over cryptic. Politics a trick and the voters went and missed it. Our death clocks reading 20:11, no time for dissatisfaction. Hands behind backs still holding a weapon, ejecting the world while nobody's strapped in. No joke delivered, here today and gone tomorrow when this country's built on smoke and mirrors and the crowd go "oh! the horror!" The media gets greedier, inbreeding facts mislead the mass until we cannot face the fact that we're the warhead-onists. Trick the readers to agree with gracious interveners - a theme of stopping screams, a clever twist for the supremacists. Making us believe that news writers aren't the terrorists. No distinction from the fact and fiction - are we getting this?
[chorus: either or both]
A kingdom full of doubting cuz it's not our vote they're counting
and now it's all over bar the shouting. ("Where's the exit?")
('Way before the metal detectors and barbed wire')
Can't see the trees for the forest fire ("What we left with?")
[diss1] Neat how the best fall. Peet lace the beat like Pulp Fiction adrenaline shot directly through the chest wall. This twisted little personal Hallelujah Chorus got us blowing up the road like driving Fallujah tourbus. Land of the barbed wire, car bomb and grenade, where they tear down the statues for the ticker-tape parade and you can die whether you're a hero or coward, and if the vote changed anything they wouldn't allow it. i subjected them to tests and found them lacking and some see it as just evolution's function. Tho as always, it depends on who you're asking. Dunno if Darwin was counting on mass destruction. When the beast beneath the surface came bursting through the cervix the John Hurt Alien nation discovered purpose, and it can only lead to an impending disaster. i'm in the carnival of horrors with demented ringmaster.
[chorus]
[AZP] As another channel changes with the banging of a different drum, commercial bursts of focus work on where we get our wisdom from. Lurking with the hopeless, working till it chokes us, difficult when the rhetorician brokers with the expositional. [d1] This track is like Runaway Mine Train freak decapitation, too bloody for your radio station. Beats make crowds frenzy like the crack of a whip. We can outstrip anything that you're travelling with. [AZP] Beauty's in the ear of the beholder and my ears, they burn volition. Listen to the deceit from the older cheap seats, Britain... truth is, duty's only skin deep, and these politicians got a skin condition when their sin speaks... [d1] ...when their sin speaks volumes like audiobooks. Tell stories with hooks, could leave your day spoiled like too many cooks. A 7% solution: instant brain intrusion. The track's fusion, hip-hop ain't noise pollution.
Cowboy anthem. Featuring Living Larceny who now goes by a different name and is a proper group member. Produced by Artikal-10 who goes by the same name and is also a proper member.
[diss1] 30K flow on some Wild North West script - more of a mystic tip than a Will Smith flick. Future mil sellers, never box office poison. When Artikal drops the beat, we bring the noise in. Cop siren synth make me wanna smoke up some George Lucas. The badlands are wired with computers. Mad losers lost to the thuggery. This is wild NW shit, the good, bad and ugg-er-ly. [Living Larceny] Oh! Heaven forbid we should try and live positive. Cuz north-west got me sick with its politics. No optimist, this is one you should miss off your tourbook. 30KB with that raw hook. Bad luck to see a place so desecrated. Addiction, most of the Wirral eradicated by Merseyside's finest. Rhymes full of metaphors, knowledge and the odd one-liners.
[chorus: all] Cuz this is how we do it in the North Wild West
Spitting raw shit till our very last breath
Beats by our side in case you haven't guessed
Streets of the blessed, just check the address
[AcheZen Pains] Rap this sipping on the juice of a cactus. North where your horse probably hasn't got a tax disc. Back in the throne of the brand of the underneath, cone in the hand full of high grade tumbleweed. Cowboys wanna kick off? Try and embarrass me. Warcry "HIP-HOP", scalping guaranteed. Savagery the stander of a wrangler attackin 'em. North wild west, mate - this mohawk ain't an accident. [LL] Larceny speaks diction with an outlaw mindframe. 23 years to my name, dope like John Wayne. El Mariachi! North-west Wirral apache, gingerbredraaan but you can't catch me. I'm way ahead of my time, way ahead of your crew (still at the starting line). Aren't even worth putting on my roster. North-western, that's why i keep my weed in my holster.
[chorus: all]
[d1] Heaven forbid we should try and live more than this. Call me Kowalski on some break-for-the-border shit. Cuz while some of these kids follow cosy trails, others carry more heat than Josey Wales. (It goes...) Once upon a time on the edge of a country, they nurtured a movement and called it funky, and when haters started hating when that shit took off, they said "this town ain't big enough for the both, so fuck off." [AZP] Unbidden I get vocal from my fear, yo. Many fiddling to a burning Rome like they Nero. Thirty thousand focal pointing at this local hero. Keep that ear low to the floor - I challenge you all to a draw. You can find me through the saloon door. Chop the bow and arrows with significant force and then try spitting some more. It's the magnificent four. It's not a wild guess, you know the wild west from the north.
[diss1] 30,000 detonators primed to go off in your face, as the crew that you never knew blew the doors and stepped right into the place armed with the special abilities, strength and agility plus bulletproof like Kevlar®. Let the sub-bass sound out a clarion call so we can locate where the heads are. Don't give a fuck what you're trynna tell me cuz i learn like an autodidact. You better tell your crew to secure-it-ass or else likely you'll get hijacked. Beat the rich for artistic merit, rejecting the bling mindset, and send undercooked rappers back to the grill cuz they know it's not their time yet. (Yo) simply don't know what we might do. Told you last time that i don't like you, and you can assume that goes for my crew, ready for level-up evolution like Raichu. Each track a winner – keep the score, please. Jon cuts so much we call him Voorhees. Wannabes pray to AcheZ, receive sore knees, enemies bombed like ["1940s"]. Watch what you're doing with that beat, matey! This for those that ain't moved their feet lately. Counsellors calling out "Artikal crazy!" (nah – just smoked too much weed, maybe.) 1 for the talent, 2 for the freakshow, 3 goes to the other Northern Alliance. 4 for the flow, 5 for the way the beat go, 30KB drop science (on your head).
[AcheZen Pains] A simple cystic sign of fear comes. It's not a bass kick, it's the banging of your eardrums. Turn out from animals and edify the fierce crumbs, til when the cheer numbs, and what you hear stuns. The market makers making everything attractive hindered information that's arriving so refracted. Your imagination's overactive. Syndicating songs til overplaying simply passed it. Chooned in to listen: all i heard was static. Take it, grab it, thirty thousand caskets, these days DJs need them through infection - that's why we call them radioactive. And it's a classic, we be laughing rapid. Your style's pH-neutral, we dissolve you like an acid. A clear form of collective defiance. We know the revolution has got to be financed. So beat 'em or join 'em, the rich or the lenders ever offending your secret agendas. You got money? Come try sue me. Your style's uglier than Wayne Rooney, and more embarrassing than Richard is to Judy. i got the message like you can call me *Ruuuuuuuuudie*... you'll soon see why you wanna honour me. The difference between the followers and wannabes. Sire golden victims like i'm fighting Mr Connery. Monetary in snobbery, we do it for the robber's fee, and its a robbery – sound the alert. Nobody truths, all bodies get hurt. M.i.A - rusting penny verse. The great bank holiday to toughen stirling turf. A poor opinion lost in a vote non-official. The end got its funding; all that matters is fiscal.
The number refers to the fact that there was an earlier, demo, version. Give or take a few songs Jake (AcheZen) and East (producer Article 10) recorded together, this is pretty much the first thing we ever did.
[AcheZen Pains/Adbuster Keaton]A dedication to no one - an open letter to the broken we're stepping on. Smoke in my eye too close to the melting pot.Think some trouble bubbling, our weapon men are selling shots. Hell in box high blows. John Wayne syndrome with G.I. Joes. Think this action figure's lost, battling with eyes closed. Triggers cost written off less about the Toy Story, more than war upon our witness box, shocking awe and glory. Civil text next sold views faux origins. ("This is the news!") What headlines are we following? Borrowing horror themes no one should be honouring, no hovering. Our culture colour's Neopolitan. So why you looking bothered? We all share the same origins. Optimum humanist, new to this, offering objection. Don't tell us who's a risk without us asking any questions. Ride the insurrection with inner city bickering. Button's been pushed: countdown imminent. Crushed in the panic, bust warning light flickering. Burn up in the heated words, burnt because of bickering. A harsh realm rising, who are we to hide it? The subtleties of stating in debate we're undecided. Vitriol inside turns to people you're despising; blinding hate makes this toleracist island. i'm finding the blinkers blurring out such atrophy. It's raining on our cardboard canopy. Fuck the start war anywhere, any time attitude - that's not sanity.
[diss1]*{cheaper global warming now!}*
*{tax the ozone, not the motorist!}*
*{free dead Iraqi with every tank!}*
[AZP]{d1} No force unstoppable, topple down the core of it. When war's so profitable we're gonna see much more of it. Bored of them distorting it, swayed on bait assumptions. Everybody's talking, only few are saying something. Some reporting on reporting but we just keep walking. Placating easy targets that they think is rewarding. Resorting to a message like the rest to be bought out when they're only gonna say the words that they haven't thought out. A warcloud, thunder storm approaching, provoking, ignoring what's important when the record's broken. No choking (it's gone two bars). And while it's out, it's time to re-examine our scars. Vernacular, and reality beckons. Bite it in the bud and put the needle on the record. A wrecking to put the voices in check. How can any cause such damage while demanding the respect? Without our civil liberties there's nothing to protect. Is this on? {Direct.} Can you see me? {Yep.} Coming live from a time that we'll never forget.
[d1]{AZP}The toleracist is a term we apply to anyone who witnesses but turns a blind eye to the smear campaign waged daily by those with their fingers on the buttons of the media controls. Play to the gallery, establish a consensus. Take care you only ever prey on the defenceless. Afflict the comfortable, comfort the afflicted?{Is there a moral there somewhere?} - Know what? i think we missed it. Take the heat off themselves, so they rock a blame-shift to the people with no mouthpiece to clear their name with - refugees, Muslims, people on benefits. Credit where it's due, the scheme is one of rare elegance. It takes intelligence and a finely-honed bullshit detector to see past the lies they fed ya. Toleracist standard: deify Tony Martin, leave Satpal Ram to rot behind bars, no pardon. What's the problem, is Asian self-defence worse than a half-mad cracker with a shotgun? Laughable sentence thanks to expensive lawyers' word skill, then the press treat this dick like the new Churchill. Seems you've only got to kill someone to get glory... so let's flip the coin for the tail of the story. Sunday night, Satpal's in the curry house, trying to sit back, chill, eat some food, drive the worry out. Group of pissed white thugs wanna start shit - "six of us, one of you. Safe lads, easy target!" Braindead drunk fuckheads try and act manly, six on one with the brain in the fist. Rip shirts like "you won't like me when i'm angry!" Half a dozen of 'em make it hard to resist. Satpal's in his pocket, now he's packing a Stanley from the job that he took to provide for his family. Comes in handy: two cuts to the neck puts the pisshead off his balance, lays him down on the deck. Now the ambulance here, take 'em both to A&E. Attacker demonstrates again what a dick he can be: Satpal gets stitched up, goes home free; this guy abuses the staff and oulls out his IV like "i'm not getting treated by a female!" Fact that she was keeping him alive was the overlooked detail. System gave up when he went into shock like "i'm afraid we've lost him..." Now it's Ram in the dock, and it's self-defence on a charge of murder. A voice in the wilderness (nobody heard ya). Witness statements 'lost in translation'. Judge overseer run a tight plantation. Lack of patience from the same red tops run by white-collar criminals paying bent cops, cruising in their fly yachts round Hawai'ian sunspots. (*Richard Desmond* - preach morals, profit offa cumshots). Murdoch: your papers promote division to divert focus from your Stalinist revision. This isn't cynicism (so where's the WMD?) You tell me - they look cooked up previously Blue Peter style, anthrax and sticky-back plastic. Stick on the front page ("that's fantastic!") So the bovine masses swallow beef willingly. Lack of thought rots grey matter worse than BSE. But some of us are still not so easy to mislead... still don't believe everything that you read.
[AZP]Only fools and forces waste their times on opinions that save them the strength and expense of thinking. Enough is enough. Disruptive reluctance, take that giftwrapped bomb and admit it's destructive. Much of a much, corruption disgusts this Adbuster Keaton. Come hell or high water, i sense it's just a little bit of history repeating.
High time i put up some more lyrics from the first 30KB album. This one's fairly self-explanatory really.
[diss1] This is not a haiku. i don't need elaborate rhyme schemes to say i don't like you.1 And this is not a protest song, just a chance to answer back to those who hate and deliberately get us wrong. Purposeful misinterpretation shows we got 'em so nervous they must devise lies and slanders to obscure our true purpose. But verses shatter curses: the sword's still less mighty than the mic. Cypher frenzy read the final rites to biter-friendly psyche. Stick that on your front page. Fight me? i might let you if you ask me nicely. Defiant bratty gladiator on some Karate Kid/kung fu death trip shit. That's my 'fuck you' prerequisite. Human Newton's third on some gross exaggeration station making haters wish their disses were retractable: that's laughable. Really thought they could step to us and not get smoked? I say:
[AcheZen Pains] This is not a tanka. i don't think i need five lines and 31 syllables just to call you a... *ahem* Taking the time to trample the lines and run 'em right into your face. Dancing the beat like Kelly, taking you out before you've said Grace. A tender heart, broke, ripped apart and rendered ruthless, fruitless juices, easy bruises take offence. i see your brain is useless and then we get off and leave you for dead. See, that's our destination. [ssssshhhhhhhhh] It's gone right over their head! Fun is made to poke with cheeky motive if it's easy to provoke it. Fuck 'em if they can take a joke. And did anyone here even notice the river they drank from is dry? My name is Intelligent Thought, you killed my father, prepare to die. DIY style, like my name is Inigo Montoya. Turn me into 3D, i'll still be Doctor Claw's destroyer. Like some cartoon bloke.
*{"Fuck 'em... if they can't take a joke"}*
[sample parade]
[d1] Round three! We leave the water parted when we sail through. Don't expect a reprieve because your sense of humour's failed you. When the beat kicks in you can't offend me. Already tap-danced straight past you like Fred Astaire crack frenzy. [AZ] Smoke green with envy, joker friendly, black and blue repainters. The jury have come to a verdict: *everybody hates yer!*... A confiding, just for your information... [d1] The house that you reside in's built on sand foundation. Big Bad Wolf, takedown. Never met a rule i didn't like (to break). If somebody says 'no' it usually shows you which way to take. [AZ] So we make and shake the brake and broke you all intentionally. Think this sample's out of time? It's – meant – to – be. Concede each day you're at a loss so mark it as a fixture. [d1] We strike twice before you can hit us once - cuz we predict yer. Now you caught a fierce diss and wanna come and try and suck up, well here's my word of advice to you, yeh?
Record labels are a mug's game nowadays unless you're in the 10% margin of artists that the remnants of the music industry still think can be squeezed for a greasy buck. Labels can obviously be helpful for promotion etc., but then again we know a few heads that've been properly screwed over by them. Complete control can be harder, but we figure it's worthwhile. i encourage people to find an article by Steve Albini called "The Problem With Music", it's 15 years old but the majority of it is still completely on-point about the music biz.
i also encourage more UK rappers to listen to The Fall, as per. 30KBCertified Banger interview preview now over at MySpace (remember there?)
Speaking of Steve Albini, an eye-opening thing i discovered recently about him is that he and his wife are basically Santa Claus, having raised $100,000 or more for needy families each Christmas for the last decade, until the Chicago post office changed their policy because a sex offender in a totally different city happened to pick up a letter from a child, resulting in absolutely nothing happening whatsoever. Guess no-one wants another Jordan on their hands...
[AZP] part of the problem is powerful people
an eye for an eye and we're blind for the sequel
out of control and rocking the boat no! it's not gonna get my vote!
laws of the land they tighten. so?
know why they write them? control.
good buy more. pay less. why? owe. no! it's not gonna get my vote!
Violating public decency so frequently and yet i still just act the meek and wait for someone else to speak for me. i'm speaking, see. the only thing they're teaching me is how to lose your rights in wrongs and make a song of secrecy. even reading writing on the wall means someone's reaching me. bored of the billboard preaching: you have cheapened me. voyeuristic systems here to bleaken streets and peep at me; only gonna get my vote if they jam the CCTV frequencies. a visceral visual when the captain sees no ships. peripheral's digital cuz of RFID chips. in the worst way, my spirit of the staircase prepares aid; a say is as likely as Nestlé going Fair Trade. the disrepair's great. let bets fly. doesn't matter if the right is left or if the left's right (left, right!) branded download, the sound grows to a vote where this land is free of ads like São Paulo. they say sink, we say "how low?" now no buying from a business represented by the Dow Jones. (sink) not now, yo. i sabotage with fatter drops. and know it's only gonna get my vote if they camouflage the ballot box.
oh, you can't shove it down our throat... it's not gonna get my vote [D-1] to all my pitiful sages
at the critical stages
raking minimum wages, say
"it's not gonna get my vote"
and all the ones written off
by the toffs at the top
who indulgently scoff, say
"it's not gonna get my..."
Remember, remember, November the 5th: gunpowder's played out, but the sentiment persists. now the crowd get excited when the pyres get lit, but they're not burning the Guy but the ones he'd have hit. and i can see why they're feeling that treason's legit when Big Bro wants to know when i'm taking a shit and how many bits of paper. it's 1984 hell. it's not gonna get my vote, like the spycamson Orwell. so 30K detonate, like radiation, contaminate. it's not gonna get my vote like a BNP candidate in grand debate. skewering them when they start to vacillate: the residue that's left when morality evaporates. future's writ large on an advertising banner, saying WELCOME TO THE PROMISED LAND - poison in the manna. and disgust and apathy are not the same. shame i ain't feeling the love, ticking a box marked "None of the Above". that's why i'm robbing ballot boxes, not giving a toss, making obscene phone calls like i'm Jonathan Ross in a Dave Cameron mask, exacting my vengeance. saying "fuck a party system, we're running as independents".
Looking at Will's blog the other day, i noticed in his affiliate links section that i haven't actually written anything on here for four weeks. Eeurgh, terrible business. i have been dealing with various other affairs instead (of which, maybe, more later); but anyway, i thought i'd better check in and at least reassure any potential readers i'm actually still alive.
Main exciting news: i'm pleased to report sightings of two new 30KB tracks! The first one is from the new Certified Banger compilation, the fifth and final installment in the On the Radar series. It's called "My Vote" and in general terms it deals with cultural and political dissatisfaction and the power you wield by choosing wisely. The usual mopey shit, then. The beat was by our associate Article10 ("N.W.W.", "Toleracist 2008"). This tune's also going to be on our forthcoming EPIn Spuriis speramus, which should be freely available within an indeterminate timeframe. Vague eh!
You can get hold of the whole On the Radar vol. 5 compilation here. Obviously this is very much advisable.
Some folk have said already said nice things... the great-looking Style43 website, for instance, called us "one of my favourites at the moment... [w]e’re going to be keeping a close eye on them next year, as I reckon they’re another crew who are going to be making movements." Thank-you much! We're gonna have to try and actually make some movements now.
The second tune is a studio version of a song we've occasionally been doing live with our boys Scams for a while now (indeed, we played it at this year's Kendal Calling festival at their invitation). It's called "Up All Night" and according to Scams' Andy, it's about the phenomenon of always seeing days "start from the wrong side", after midnight rather than in the morning. One for the night owls and insomniacs among you. And now, ironically, it's time for more coffee. Word.
- It's going to have either seven or eight tracks. One will be a Delusionists remix and another will feature Mr Benjamin Black from the said group;
- Production is divided between Crewdson, who did "Care Less" and "Crewd Sons (Ghost in the Machine)" off the first album, and also recorded the majority of said album, yer humble narrator, and, in the case of the said remix, the said Mr Black.
- In Bastards We Trust has been talked about as a name. Possibly in Latin, cuz we enjoy treading the line between pretentious and ludicrous for all we're worth.
- It will be freely downloadable from somewhere free on the internet, for free. Yes, FREE!
- Any or all of the above details are subject to change at the whim of our fickle personalities.
- Sports Night is one of the most criminally underrated TV series of all time. Total masterpiece. (Ignore the daft laugh track, it fades out by the middle of the first season anyway.)
[adbuster keaton] wincing at the lack of principle. cut to a track of static snapping at commercial intervals. it's difficult, individuals lost well beneath the deck and i can't tell the fire for the CGI effect. freeze the eye instead, wire fed, sleeping in the lion's bed, i'm hopeful the doubting's less total than global, i'm vocal from mountain to molehill, the old news they told you just grew from a world of Chernobyls. next stop, watch dog, heard slow, sleep dream, and learn to get scared by the ghost in the machine. nothing seizes me, the blessing of the non-committed censorer pushing me higher with the cooling of the temperature. dementia breaks to figure these aches: is it wrong to dwell on that which has been built on mistakes? living this way, on hearsay how we stunted our fate to come triumphant on an ever-plundered bit rate. this day dismay strays from the movement of the rhythmless, drowns us all out with the proof of their grandiloquence, grimacing at costs of a flag they didn't hoist. seemingly incipience is lost without its voice. it's all so very off-the-levy breezy wayward heading. wear the brightest swooshes, still we can't see where we're treading; black spot lighting up my future, there's no way of telling if rebellion is instinctive or a lifestyle that they're selling.
[diss1](...heeeey!) if i wake up again while i'm alive i want to organise a party like it's 2005. those were platinum days - i'm still paying off the interest of trying everything once but folk dance and incest. flavours i did ingest, distill and regurgitate, the have-a-go villain over rhythms that'll circulate, lyrics that'll perforate if need be. got y'screaming out "Dissonance!" like a detuned TV. and if i die before i wake, i wanna go back in time and be the first one to use that. but more likely back to square one in dark corners where miscreants gather to smoke reefer and chew fat. where's the truth at? not like anyone here will know. i last saw that shit like 6 years ago. really though, don't you make faces at this lyricist. i'll take you to the places where the eye meets the pyramid. rebellion into money, cheap at the price, blew the cash and the speakers on the thirty merchandise. now it's broken-down blown cones, holes in the ozone, extraterrestrials at the party better phone home.
[diss1] The hornets' nest stirred when they cut down the saviour. Buy now: apocalypse later. Apocryphal labours, favours returned, no rest for the wicked and weary. Faulty logic hara-kiris conspiracy theories. And Dr. Dre said... *something his ghostwriter thought of* (Straight outta composition? sort of.) Hold your position. You're sub-poena'd by put-you-out-of commission. Sharpshoot lyricism with military precision and execution. Classified level 3 intel. D-day landing smashing your splinter cell. i'm like hot gas compression how my flow's turbo. you a non-union equiv. like Señor Spielbergo. Heard you wanna quibble? That's comical like Bananaman. Soft fucker, you can get box-cutter'd by Nevada-tan fan club presidential assistant orderly - the gory story of Hikikomori. Lock lips w/fibre optics and a free flash screamer of your choice. Speed trials exceed pace of whoever's really racing the tortoise. But small voices, too, can shatter glass at the right pitch: that's why he legged it through the night after hitting the lightswitch.
[AcheZen Pains] Slipped and tripped from the pinnacle to land on his hands. Comprehend, don't understand: i'll be the nation's reprimand. Assured through lawless lands, hear me, and my ideology's more mental than any theory you can find in Scientology. Just try stopping me: i'm like a hearty-sized typhoon. You're more ridiculous than a student at Cromartie High School. i'm more effectual than respectable Hollywood special effects. Dionysian powers protecting me. Ladies and gentlemen, place your bets! Fool? hardly. Foolhardy words'll never take care of me. Passionately kiss yr ass goodbye cuz it says pull in case of emergency. No do-re-mi: i'm here to pierce the ears of peers. Go to sleep with bad thoughts and i wake up something fierce. Second guess i manifest the thoughts i'm writing as a cycle: force of an ouroboros meant you felt my reprisals. Sizeable slice, retire you twice, leachers 'n preachers of viable rights. Bleeping a future of fallen tonights. Welcome to nothing: walk into the light.
[welcome]to the way we on it [to]contemporary supersonic [nothing]not a hopeful sonnet,
scenes created just to bomb it
[welcome]to a true platonic [to]toppin trivia delivered in song with [nothing] style different shakin tectonics,
this be the imminent finish of the wrongest...
ahwhatthefuck... might as well post this since it's ready & i'm bored & in work...
i remixed the Delusionists' "Parallel Worldz" (featuring Invizible Frenz) from the recent Certified Banger On the Radar Vol. 4 compilation for their remix contest.
BEETS LAYING ABOUT
Hopefully it is good enough for the first guy from Invizible Frenz not to "literally shit on" me.
So, it's here - for all of you who were waiting! 'On The Radar Volume 4' is available for your downloading pleasure and with over a dozen exclusives, Volume 4 proves that the series is going from strength to strength.
Volume 4 features 20 tracks of strictly British Hip Hop from rappers and producers from around the Kingdom. Certified Banger’s now cemented reputation in the underground and online UK rap scene means that UK artists , who are not yet on the radar, have a platform for their music – so long as it’s decent! Judging by the subsequent success of previous ‘OTR’ artists you can expect to hear much more from these names in the near future.
In summary then, as grime nutter Bruza would probably say, "WOT U WAITIN FORRRR?!?!?!!!"
So the day we got back from Kendal, we also got an email from head-of-the-pack UK hip-hop blogger Certified Banger ("the top dog in this blogging phenomena... period!", says Taskforce's Farma G), to tell us that 30KB are one of 21 artists featured on the forthcoming fourth instalment of his winning On the Radar compilation series.
We're completely thrilled to feature on UK rap's premier contemporary showcase alongside people whose music we listen to regularly. Previous volumes of OTR have featured the likes of B'tol & Jagos, Grimlok, Skillit, Skandal, JVF Clique, The Three Amigos, Baron Samedi, Mr Loop, Dialect, Stylah and Delegates of Culture, as well as appearances from, among others, Sonny Jim, Kyza, Klashnekoff, Witchdoctor Wise, Ramson Badbonez 'n' the mighty Jehst. Not a roster to be sneezed at in any way, i think you'll agree.
If you've previously missed out on On the Radar volumes 1—3, you'll be pleased to know they are all still available to grab: just click the album covers above or hit up the CB rapidshare here for links to all three. You are well advised to cop 'em.
Anyway, here's our track, as well as a few more whose quality has stuck out after the mere couple of plays i've so far managed. The comp is officially released in a couple of days, so i'll no doubt write about it again then. Big props, Cee.
Diss1 (me) and Dastardly from 30KB chatting some thoughts on flags, anthems, nationalism, etc. over "The Anthem" by ace Parisian beatmaker Onra.
