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==281003
Added another gallery.. all digital i'm afraid, so all a bit wierd, but WTH, it`s all good innit.. some shots of SG1 in Fermoy, the weekend b4 i went to hell, and some pics of Colourfest, this past weekend... Or should i say, the NOTORIOUS colourfest that happend this weekend (see below: apparently we are all Hip Hop & Rn'B Djs Now..) Have a butchers in the Pictures bit for more..
How was your bank holiday then? I'll get to that later.. first, part 2 of the Ibiza Odyessy.. I think it`s become a weekly thing, so more next week, less stressfull that way.. (flubber, twitch, sniff)
Of coarse the first 24 hours in Ibiza is the most important.. according to the law of mallets, the first 24 hours will program your bit of the Matrix for the duration of the Stay.. I Know this because of the OTHER time i went to Ibiza.. Shall i tell you about THAT? Yes, i think i will. Many of you know i make no secret of my strong feelings of fear and loathing for Ibiza.. this is 100% down to my first experience of it - and just as the first 24 hours of a visit shapes your entire holiday, your first VISIT shapes your entire life experience of Ibiza.. So, the First time then.. right.. ehm.. well, there was me, that is springer, and my 3 droogs, off to the white isle for some peak summer messing. The script was i had signed to the label MANIFESTO, and they were having a night in Amnesia, as you do, and on that strength, we headed out for a bit of an auld lig.. So it proceeded well, we were all friends, the mobile was working, and we were in time for all our flights to Gatwick and on to the isle (there were no direct flights to ibiza from dublin then, it was in fairness 1996, or it could have been 1995, i'm not to clear on that part of the decade..) - arriving in the dead of night to alight the bus to the hotel.. I remembered seeing a documentary on some disaster holiday from hell to ibiza, picturing the apartment block in my mind, described as the most violent and hell-holeish in the world by an irate holidaymaker who just didn`t gots tha funk in the programme, and lo, the place we were staying looked just like it.. but then again, they all look the same at the price we were paying.. Anywya, it's late, we have been travelling and sitting for hours, it`s time for kip, then we can get up early in the morning and get wasted.. ah yes.. so we settled down for some shut-i, and the noise started almost immediatly i lay down.. the usual, distorted ghetto blaster playing a bad mixtape, sounds of glasses breaking, lads singing and bellowing, squeels of joy, shrieks of ecstatic drunken hilarity, bangs and booms, ripping sounds, laughter, more clinking of bottles, doors slamming in a professional manner, and so on... and then, after about an hour of this shite, all of a sudden, it stopped! immediatly.. just the sound of the ghetto blaster, nothing else.. amazing..l as if the revellers had been deleted! Could they all have fallen asleep at the same time? Stranger things have happend.. ah well.. just <45 minutes (unless it`s a C120) till the tape ends and we can sleep soundly.. oh.. click went the tape, and silence.. ahhhhhhh.. Sleeeeeeeeeeeppppp (making a mental note to intimidate the basterds who made all that noise next morning while they were in the roars of their hangovers - noting we would probably start a "brekfast war" doing this - where every morning we would psyche each other out at the eatery for the previous night's indiscresion, yes it was hell, but they had to be taught the hotel apartmento is a place of peace and tranquility at 4am, not a place of mallets and noise - that is catered for by the many,many bars and clubs freely available SOMEWHERE FU*KING ELSE BUT HERE.. Ehm.. So the morning happened, and we went downstairs to the lobby/taxi rank/bar/resteraunt/moped rental shop/ghetto/lobby to get a food script drafted, and who were waiting for us? Our neihbours.. looking VERY poor indeed.. in rag order.. i was formulating my snide comment about the noise, when a rep/pusher came along and addressed the assembeled shambles, it went something like this.. "..right ok, sorry for aking so long, i have been on hold for ages.. right.. it's like this, he can't go back until the hospital releases the body on thusday (it was monday that day) and then he will have to go back via barcelona because there are no direct flights that can take the casket, so we need to get him over to barcelona, then back to england from there.. you'll have to pay for the flight costs yourselves i'm afraid.. now.. lets see.. yes, the police are trying to contact his family at home now, apparently they are going up to his mam's work to find her because there is nobody at home right now.. so we'll hear form them soon as to the family's wishes.. (an so on)" - riiiiiiiiiight.. so after a while of WTF-ing , we get the script that the noize had stopped so suddenly because one of the lads (who arrived the night before with us BTW) had decided he could fly.. yep.. no shit, they had hit the bars immediatly on arriving, got smashed and taken it home.. literally he just took a "i can fly" angle and leaped out the balcony, crashing 4 floors onto a load of garden furniture.. poor sod.. and poor rest of the lads, they not only had to handle that, but were all now stuck in hell for 2 weeks with no money as they had to pay for the casket to be shipped.. hmmm.. riiight.. so inside a record 4 hours of bieng there, the bloke in the next room killed himself.. ok.. riiight... i was later to learn (from a suspected sex thief who managed to move into our apartment with us after a VERY messy night in Amnesia) that these incidents are very common, and the victims are referred to as "leapers" or "flyers".. you can picture the scene down at A&E in San Antonio.. "Yo, carlos, another Leaper up at the San-Frandisco Apartmentos, can you deal with that or are you full up?..." The rest of the First trip was mosly taken up with bieng ripped off, dissapointed, left in the lurch by people, stalked, invaded and mostly sitting in the apartmento armed to the teeth waiting for the next person to climb in the window/door/air vent (none of which had locks) - i actually invented an alarm system by leaning chairs against doors and windows with glass ashtrays balenced on them, so if anyone disturbed them by opening the door/window/vent (that had no locks) the ashtray would smash on the tiled floor and wake us up.. yes, it WAS that bad, and we WERE that paranoid.. So first trip to Ibiza - fooking disaster m8.. really.. shite.. I did learn 2 things though, [1] never ask a local where cafe mambo is, [2] never buy anything from anyone unless they are scottish or irish.
So now you know why i was treating the trip this year with such dread.. i hadn`t been back since the first time, and i really didn`t care... year after year there was talk of playing there for one fool or another, but it never happened.. i was relieved every time the summer Ibiza trip was cancelled.. got away with it for years.. untill this year that is.. Right, where was i, oh yes.. sleep.. ahhh.. sleep.. Now i had been knocking back the water and fizzys for the duration, and drinking my suppliments and generally bieng light and breezy but healthy.. but i was feeling decidedly iffey hitting the sack after escaping the mad ax-murderer in the posh apartment a few hours previous.. in fact.. i decided a good puke was in order, since pissing wasn't really happening too well.. i was having those URGENT pisses that yielded not-alot-at-all of piss, and that was a sign of dehydration i thought.. oh yes it was. SO i had a little puke to myself, and with adrennalin rushing, went to try and get my own/shared with mccabe room in the hotel (remember we were gatecrashers in power and conor g's room).. luckily the tourist industry is totally fuc*ed so we had no problem aquiring a nice room at the knockdown price of [WYCG - "What You Can Get"] a night, okay, gimmie.. up to the NEW room, crashed again, air conditioning on, CNN on the box, ahhh.. right.. so i managed to sleep for ages, and woke to the realisation it was time to work.. had to get scrubbed for LASHED in EDEN.. felt very tired still.. wow.. little headrush there.. little dizzy there.. not to worry.. mark had been on standby for hours, john and conor, of coarse, were missing.. mmm.. did you get the gear out of the psycho's lair? yep.. good.. right.. any trouble? nope.. just a slight misunderstanding where the crew arrived at the building, only to be nabbed by the LASHED crew, mr.psycho included, and forced to play tunes by the pool while food was nibbled and drinks consumed as conversation delevloped!! The noisey dangerous bloke from the night previous was MUCH better behaved, and even apologised to Power for the incident.. nice of him.. pity it wasn't power he scared 1/2 to death (etc.), so, under the cunning cover of social interaction and pleasenries, a crack commando unit scaled the lifts of the building and extracted the gear, and then sat on it by the pool throughout the "warm up" for the night ahead.. and so it found it`s way back to the hotel, and we were ready to go.. the charriot brought us nicely past the west end, which looked like a circus, booze the ringmaster, cops the clowns, and the crowd like a moving violation en masse swaying from side to side holding a pint glass in 1 hand and a dildo in the other as it fights for position infront of the camera crews that were all desperatly egging them on by topping up their glasses while whipping them with microphone leads (plugged in of coarse..) ehm.. and so the club appears.. in we go.. setting up of the DAT and microphones for ambiance is pointless and difficult, so we opt for the house DAT with ours on safety backup cloned out the arse thru a coaxial cable.. lovely.. double safe, now all we need is a crowd... since i am on first, i slap on a tune at about 10% volume so the staff can go about their buisiness without ear damage.. an empty club is brittle on the ears
and withing 15 minutes there is a small but messy group assembling.. the volume creeps up another 10%, and i am introduced to the crew form Sligo, who cheer me up and help quell the rising tide of nausea i felt.. friendly faces and all that.. 1/2 hour in and there is action on the floor, to the astonishment of the lights guy, who now has to start to work, earlier then he likes..ah well.. Thing is, during all this, i was really noticing the heat, and despite drinking a 7up, i was thirsty and feeling sick as a pig.. oh, and dizzy.. the aircon was switched on (at last) and the floor is busy enough for a vibe to exist.. a good showing actually, 99% irish (who else would be there so early) good stuff.. except i REALLY need a wee, and while i`m at it , another green puke. green.. yes.. green.. why? because bile was backing up into my stomach through a siezed stomach exit.. mm.. i did the CLASSIC rock n roll puke, you know, prepared the next record, dropped the headphones, dashed real casual like into the jacks, and into a cubicle looking shifty - though not for the reasons the lady attendant was thinking.. wallop.. out again looking flushed, and back on te decks in time to pretend nothing had happened... riiight.. so the set finished, and i made way for BK who immediatly pitched it all up 4, and got all mechanical on me.. i then needed a (dizzy) script.. power.. get me out of here.. i am going to die.. okay, so Willie Pidgeon appears in the Judgement Sunday mobile, conveniantly passing the hotel on his travells, willie baby, you saved my life.. home.. sick again.. more dizzyness, and pins and needles too.. right.. i`m not keeping ANYTHING down now.. water, bread, onions, nothing.. okay, i feel so dizzy now i need a cold shower to keep sane.. right.. out to the local shop for some GATORADE (my brain told me to do it) and a roll.. and the walk was surreal.. 3 am ish, quiet an dark.. got the drink, drank the drink, went to bed.. now, the next day was the day we LEAVE.. yep.. up like a light and out for a plane at 10pm or something.. i had a nice day sitting around, feeling wierd and waiting to have some more strangley coloured fluids ejected from me somehow (now in ever decreacing amounts), oh, and wondering if i was going to get out of this heat alive.. Our flight was late, and waiting for us in Stanstead was another classic 5 hour wait for the first flight to dublin in the a.m., so we chacked the hospitals for Conor and John, who were missing (of coarse) and panic was upped a notch or too as the afternoon turned to evening.. Mark eventually found them, asleep in their room (quitters!), and we got in the jomaxi for the airport. Oh yes, just as we flew past the arty bit in the town centre, power remembers his passport is at reception in the hotel.. WONDERFULL.. what is it about you and airport taxis power? eh? So, Panic ups a notch, again, as does my heartbeat, which incidently, i can now hear in stereo over the rush of the night air.. The airport was tuff.. a mild queue for the flight, and i was having terrible trouble focusing, and standing. Now you have to remember that i have NOT had any ***** or drink at all.. and i have had alot of sleep, so i look very odd indeed.. Normal actually for anyone ending their holiday in Ibiza i would say.. the rest of the lads looked pretty rough too, except for mccabe who has a pact with the devil apparently, so we seemed to get away with alightig the plane that left disgustingly on time.. A good trick, cocidering my kidneys has failed and i was in NO state to travel.. i knew i was in deep shit when i blacked out during takeoff.. the plane did it`s revving the engine thing, the g-force hit me like an elephant, i just couldn`t breathe at all, my vision closed in a circular pattern and i drifted off, to wake with a shock shortly after the crushing stopped.. messy.. next we were in the brightness of the stanstead corrall, and brandon block was there, looking great actually, well, compared to how i looked then, anyone looked great, but he did look perticularly fit and happy.. i noticed while we were standing doing a quick hello, that standing really was very difficult indeed.. i had to sit on my record box/anything at all immediatly to avoind the impending headrush that i knew would knock me out.. so i squatted.. er.. hi brandon.. etc.. right, now cum the DAWN OF THE DEAD bit.. wandering in the haze of dehydration (for tis wot it was) in stanstead, 2am, flight at 6ish, feeling very ill indeed.. ah! a bench, next to a bin, in the general area, lovely.. curled up like a cat, and went stiff.. my legs numb, my lips numb, my hands cold and stiff.. Cramps in my back, in my legs and my hands too.. oh, and my feet - 2 blocks of numb.. messy.. i am roused from the earplugged slumber on the bench by conor, time to go.. i sit up, get a headrush.. oops.. who lowered the bar? shite.. 3 hours ago i couldn`t raise my head to head level for fear of passing out, now sitting was an issue.. oh dear.. they will NEVER let me on the flight.. i am doomed to be experimented on by the NHS! So, there is this stupid queueing thing in Gatwick where you have to walk in a snake pattern, in a "folded" queue towards the sucurity.. nylon ribbons on sticks defining the area you queue in, nothing to lean on, no counters, no furniture, just space.. i was fuc*ed (again).. there was little chance of me making it to the end of the queue, let alone bieng coherent enough to present my passport.. the lads helped by propping me up with a pile of bags i think, and we soon found ourselves in the departures area.. I think they let me through because they wanted nothing to do with us, looking so messy and having so much strange electronic equipment on our persons.. mm.. anyway, another frightening crush/pass out on takeoff later, i am seeing things, and hearing things too.. a bit scary, waaaaaaaaaaaay past the interesting stage, now in the worriengly annoying stage.. okay, here is the plan, as soon as we land, i am getting into a taxi and going to my doctor, i feel wierd beyond belief.. right, so it was, touched down, marched out into a taxi, and off to the doc's.. the consultation took 9 seconds, he looked at me, and asked would i be able to get a lift into A&E or would i like an ambulence.. It was friday morning.. the weekend was just begenning.. and WHAT a weekend i had in store...
==241003
NASA are 45 years old this week.. they first did something cool in 1958.. Ahhhh... So cute the idea that we may someday get off this pieceofshit rock.. Well, it's time for a reality check, we MUST announce our existance if we are to EVER meet E.T., it's just sad that we will be long, long, LONG dead before anyone even realises we are saying hello, and even -l-o-n-g-e-r- dead when they finally drop 'round for a session.. (sigh) What we REALLY need to work on is manipulating TIME, because time is the killer.. Distance becomes meaningless when you can stop time innit... Good Old NASA.. god bless them and their DEEP SPACE 1, the VOYAGER of the day.. go on the lads.. ("millions starving, men on the moon..." - sewer rant from irish wino in 'clockwork orange' opening scenes)
==231003
This weekend Is a major for us all.. Bank Holiday, with WINTER PARTY in the point in dublin on saturday evening, and the COLOURS festival thingy, all day and night alot at enigma in carrickmacross.. yes, i will be attending, on the sunday for a bit of spinnage.. popeye stylee.. behave now!!! May be attempting a return to the SQUAD this saturady as well (need the money) and so on.. So, go4th and njoi..
==211003
And so, the Beans Must now be spilled. The Ibiza Script Starts here.. Now, don`t be surprised if this takes a while to unfold, there is alot to get through, but here we go..
Preface:
Okay.. so lets start BEFORE the beginning.. The weekend Previous to the week in question.. Gig in Fermoy i believe? Yes, usual story, fun fun fun and all that lark.. The sound was in HUMMMMM mode during the breakdowns, so i had a bit of a stressfull time, you know the story... so loud that the bast*rd Hummm from hell crept in each and every breakdown - sometimes, if i was feeling lazy, i would not bother to drop the bass and it would get SO loud it actually made the record skip!! Shit on a stick annoying.. Anyway, didn`t come home, carried on to the darkest regions of west cork for an overnight with a m8.. Amazing how fast you can drive on all those new roads around cork at 4am, really nice spin at that time of night - very THX1138 in all those tunnels.. Orange light and the warm air - and it WAS warm.. that heatwave thing that so brilliantly occpuied all the news bullitans that weekend wa in FULL effect.. think it put everyone in a specialk kind of mellow mood.. Anyway, landed, ate, hung out a bit, then donned the Earplugs and slept.. Got up lunchtimey and headed immediatly out into the gridlock from Cork-Dublin for a good old Bonding session with the seat in the car and my ass in "numb" mode.. Christ on a bike what a fu*king pain in the hole - literally.. EVERYBODY driving like a total asshle.. alot of people with flags tied to their cars with 12 kids in Sportsgear crammed into the luggage space mingling with.. er.. well.. just assholes really.. Not good driving conditions.. Not at all.. especially as i had to be back in Dublin for 8pm to do my Phoney-Baloney Radio Show.. Mmm.. On a Sunday You exclaim?! Yes, the previous night had been a SLANE (or whatever it was) broadcast, so the 626 got moved to Sunday.. So.. The traffic bled us dry, didn't have a chance to get home to get records for the show, so i had to play what i played the night before.. again.. ehm.. So i totally lost really.. think about it.. anyone listening then would have been doing it by chance, te regular 626ers got Slaned, so were still sore at the radio for poking them like that and were NOT listening.. i pity anyone that was in the club the night before - they got a wierd flashback 20 hours after they began their mallet, and were ripe for a bit of stability, rather then bieng plunged right back into it all.. mmm.. so, with 7 minutes to spare, did radio, went home, slept. Monday was merely a formality, and tuesday rolled around..
Day 1 : The Shit.
Woke, threw clothes and blah into a bag, a small shoulder bag, nothing to girly, nothing to cool, just clean undergarments and fine male grooming products... Drove to RTE where the plan was we were to meet at 3-4ish to leave in a taxi at about 4 to be at the airport at 5 to fly at 6.. Sound easy? Yeasssss it DOES! Look again. Meet 3ish. leave. Taxi. Airport. Fly. and again please.. Meet 3ish. Yeah. Meet 3ish. 3ish. threeeeeisssshhhh. Okay, fine. 3. 3 it is. So i get there at 3.30 Ex-fuc*ing-Zactly and proceed into the Radio Building after parallel sliding my bus into a nice space it will occupy for (i thought) the next 48 hours, and lo, Mccabe is looking for his arse amongst a big pile of arses that are all neatly piled in a giant pile of arse... the sort of pile that looks as if it was put together by a seasoned professional arse piler.. Messy.. we are Fu*king leaving in like, Fuc*ing NOW and you are looking for a LEAD? (Panic: Warning stage 1) Ahh.. the lead is found.. and WHICH machines are we bring to Tape the Night In EDEN? Oh i see.. Wonderfull, and now a bag to put it all in.. Hang on, How come i have had my socks and stuff put by since, like, FRIDAY and you all have to go Arse-pile Diving with No Minutes to Going time? I hate my life . Wait a minute, WHERE IS power? (Panic:Actual Stage 1)I distinctly recall it bieng 3 ish to leave at 4 ish to be there at 5ish type thing.. even just remembering the 3ish bit would do.. shiiiiiiiiiit. okay, call his mobile.... which is Switched off.. Riiiiiiiiight.. Conor G was there, exooding calm (Panic:Back to Warning Stage 1), he explains John is on the way, and his mobile is dead.. We wait.. We wait soem more.. The Taxi Arrives.. Mmm.. No sign on it`s roof.. This IS a Taxi innit? Riiiight. It's a Knackney, so, no driving in the Buslanes then eh squire? Nahh... you wouldn`t want that mate, naghhhhhhhhhh, it'd get us through the building site quicker.. you just drive in the main flow there at your leisure man.. take your time, we have all the time in the world.. yeah baby.. so much we had to actually LEAVE without Power just now.. Oh, did i mention we had to leave WITHOUT POWER? Yes, the liss was taken so severly, that at 4.30ish, we had to leave, in out non-taxi, and go to the airport is we were to have any hope of catching the last trollybus to stanstead that evening.. Oh, and you can Downgrade my Panic status no Nil, and upgrade my WTF? to Stage 2 (Stage 2 involves saying "WTF is ????? Playing at" or "WTF is the story with ?????" at least twice every 5 minutes for the first half hour, falling to once a half hour after 4 hours, and then with meals for a week) Good god what agreat start. I am Jaded already. So did we make the Flight to London, sorry, england?? Of COARSE we did.. yes we can.. Cancell the WTF, Load the "We are the Lads" Prigram for getting away with the Plane thing.. Yes.. things are loking up again. Heloooooooo Stanstead..
So how ya been? still doing bogie hotdogs and glass panelling? I see.. So , what is the angle here? Any sign of our records off the baggage shoot? or in he "Suspect Device" area? Hmm.. Nowt eh.. well, i think me an Mark Will go to the EasyJest Desk and get logged in for the Ibiza flight, since it`s closing in 3 minutes and we have no idea where the Checkin Desk is in relation to this Contained area we now found ourselves in.. Mmm.. (Panic: Level 1) Bagless, late, usual... So the Easyjest Desk is.. Empty.. Cool.. just a nice happy-her-shift-is-over girly dressed in what looks like a set of curtains from Golfinger's Private Jet.. Okay, so whats the script on the flight? Yeah, Closed, JUST now.. and anyway, we hadn`t any bags to check in. So, we had a choice here.. Start the Row imediatly, and when Conor And Power arrived with the bags, they could be our re-inforcements, possible pulling of the "good cop,bad cop" angle if we go too far before they arrive, but hell, i think a row is the best coarse of action here.. Aw, but then i remember all those crap TV shows with wierdos Freaking out at Airline Staff, and i bite my lip.. then i remember we are Stranded in Engerland, overnight, on RTE business.. Mmm.. a SHORT trainride from West London, a playground of the Springer for many years on and off, and RIPE for a bit of "Accidental" Scripts.. So, the Doll at the Counter spins us the "first flight out in the morning" crap, and suggests we get pissed and sleep on a nice bench in the area, riiiiiiight. like i`m gonna sleep on a bench to get a flight at 5am, like hell i will, WE are going into london on the Rip, via a nice Aparthotel and a Decent meal.. This is NOBODYS fault, except the Fuc*ing eejit that booked us on 2 flights so close together, okay, so they weren't to know we would have bags with us (records, clothes, recording equipment), after all, we were just going over for 2 nights for the fun of it.. you know.. something to do? Ehm.. anyway, no hard feelings nice Easyjest doll, we will be on our way into Londres for an angle.. Enuf.. I'm not going to get upset. infact, we need an emergency 5-star hotel to cheer us up i think.. Ah yess. i know some excellent establishments loaded with saunas and a savage brekfast, oh and you can cancell that "cos it`s a near-miss you can go on the next one free, and the next one is 5.30am.." shite, we'll fly early afternoon, after a serious night in lux-paradise-expenseaccount-land!!! Yeah baby.. (and so on).. We were Fairly resigned to the fact we were screwed byt the time Power and Conor arrived with the bags, which was quite a while later.. and we all proceeded to not care as a unit, regigned to our fate of a night in london, by accident.. Yes, it WAS a tuesday night, but im sure something happens on a tuesday in london, even if it's in our hotel rooms
heheh.. Then a bolt of lightning from the Ladeee in the Curtains, we may be in with a chance.. so, she disappears off into the scenery, and then reemerges with her friend, dressed in less loud curtains, so must have been a higher rank, oh, hang on, has a walkie-talkie and a big white bagde on her lepel, what's this, we are nice blokes, and we can get on the flight after all.. wow!! you are the nuts girls!!! I can't believe there has been nobody here to witness this great act of human generosity, there are always cameras to catch the Wankers freaking out at Beurocratic cretins in horro-airport situations, but no camera here this time to catchthis.. tuff break.. Oh, so it's delayed is it? Hasn`t even Boarded eh? Riiiiiight.. Thanks anyway, i suppose.. So, a short, tight flight to Ibeefah, and we were Landed, Breathing in the Soup they Call air, and Sitting in a Nice LASHED mobile, getting the Fullon About the Scene this summer.. Apparently, it`s been a Tough Time for all Concerned.. we listen with interest as the script unfolds.. Oh, look, a new road.. Oh Look.. an Unfinished Eyesore Building.. Oh Look, another massive shell of a building.. Oh Yes.. So, we had to be installed first of all, Conor and John in a nice Hotel, Me and Mark in an Apartment thing.. Shared with One of the Lashed Entourage - he lived there apparently.. Not much evidence of it to be fair, a wicked collection of Trainers lined up in the hall, and some FINE male grooming products in the wet room, and a single Book on the coffee table "The SAS and their secret battle with the IRA". Right. Okay. And there is more. The Apartment had a satellite reciever! Joy! Something to mess with.. Anything in the Fridge even? No. Nowt. Just a bottle of champagne (open) with a spoon in it.. Fine, we add our drinks, space food ana so on and Head out to meet everyone in Bar M (the Manumission place) down in the town.. It's located right by the sea, and along a notorious boardwalk, usually populated with Traders in Bootleg CDs, Recreational Pharms and Sex (the boardwalk, not the bar!!) so i was looking foward to a game of "tease the dealer" later, as bieng a non-drinker, i would be sober when everyone else was unwinding after the messy day, and would be in need of amusement.. i had planned to ask dodgy charicters if they had any "spin" for sale, you know man, SPIN, what? you haven`t got any.. aw man.. we all want some, and there's 10 of us.. (and so on) This can provide endless entertainment if the dealer concerned is an enterprising individual, and wants to keep "in" with the new ***** bieng peddled.. Pretending to be American (calafornian) or Canadian usually closes the spoof nicely.. ANYWAY, didn`t get that far..we all assembled, the 626ers, close personal aquaintences of the 626ers that were already embedded on the Island, and the LASHED Lads.. The Chat began, people had dwinks, i had a glass of water, with ice, the athmosphere was taken in, and we watched the outlines of girls dancing behind whitescreens in the walls.. very gimmick.. and the Night wore heavy.. i had to go and chill out, and MArk was thinking the same - it had been a LONG day.. So we split, extracting the Roomkey for Power & Conor's room at their hotel as we left as we needed to raid their bags for some of our valuable property they had, and we wanted.. and the taxi painlessed us to the hotel door.. we made eye contact with the desk-bloke, the usual old guy on the night shift, cool, in the lift, in the room, leave the key with the sploom on the desk, and we are off.. walking to our place.. Nice.. it cool inside, time to explore! Mmm.. spiral staircase into the cieling.. surely not a roof garden.. oh yes, a roof garden. Mm, so to the business of the Telly, okay, all the wires had been ripped out.. mmm.. Frenzy stylee.. Literally the whole thing was knackered, all facing the skip in the sky to be honest.. but hell, it's something to do... we can fix that. So we did.. and fired up the PACE sat box.. Analog, on Astra1, so loads of german crap, and CNN.. Ahh,,,,, CNN. Saviour of the Sane.. Nice. Better then nothing.. Right, it`s 4.30am, time for bed.. into the cupboard bedroom, door secure, dat machines, tunes and so on in boxes around us on the floor, and we are safe. Ahhh... Relax.
Bang. Big Bang. Crash. Scream. Mumble. Silence for ages (maybe it was in another apartment? the walls are probably paper thin). Bang (again). Bang (louder). Shouting. Mumbling. "You southern cu*t". Bang. "Come up here and bring your Beretta, i'll leave the door open". Bang Bang Bang BangiddyBangBangBang. Shouting. Cursing. [Time passes with more Banging and so on..]. Okay, i had Just begun to maybe begin to drift off to sleep when this happend, so it must be, 5ish? Yeah. Time to see if McCabe is awake.. Yep. Is he Hearing this Shooting, Killing "Southern" shouting? Yep. Is He shitting his Pants? Yep. Apparently, from his position in the room, the Mumbling can be almost understood, Via the French Windows, And the Shouter is having a conversation, possibly on his mobile, and is aware there are "DJs" in the room we are in.. he is DEFINATLY annoyed about something, and it has something to do with something he'd like to sort out with the assistance of violence. And we are trapped and we are going to die. First thing we have to do is get the fu*k out of there we decide.. Right, so, that's that sorted. So. How do we feel about getting into a fight now with Forces unknown for reasons unknown just to roam the streets of Ibeefa at 6am on a wednesday morning? with 5 heavy record boxes and so on? The debate continues as does the mumbling and bumping throught the walls - well at least it`s bumping and not banging anymore.. Is that bloke actually in here? in this flat? Man.. he must be the guy we were sharing with.. What did we do to annoy him? Used the ashtray incorrectly? Moved his book? Fixed his satellite reciever? Maybe he hadn't been told we were sharing with him, come home, found the porridge gobbed-in, and freaked out.. rung his mates, got the script there were 2 southern irish DJs in his flat and lost the plot.. Look, we were in a locked room in the dark hearing all this shit, and all we had to go on was a book on a coffee table - this guy could be ex-army with a bad-pint experience in N.Ireland he holds anyone from south of the boarder personally responsible for, we could, now only COULD mind, be Fuc*ed. Fuc*ed comprehensively in a _special_ misunderstanding that, frankly, neither mark or i could care less about.. in fact, this was a clear case of this guy confusing us with someone that gave a toss.. Right, so what do we do? Ok, we will try and reason with him. Talk our way into an understanding, and if he gets messy, we will have to hit him with something.. Grab the essentials, leave the heavy stuff, get dressed and lets go. Door opens, no noise for ages, bloke sitting on bed in main bedroom in underwear looking out into corridor.. we look back.. he says something, we introduce ourselves, he replys "no, that was someone else mate..", right, we mumble something about going for a walk, and we leave, raidin gthe fridge on the way and noticing a knife had appeared on the kitchen counter.. So, we are on the streets, our gear, most of it work gear, in the room, in the apartment, with the madman in it, and we have nowhere to go, and the sun is coming up.. Right.. Back to Conor & John's room.. they are probably still at SPACE and we can blag in.. which is what we do.. the desk-guy recognises us, assumes we have been out partieng till this hour after he last saw us since it IS ibiza, and we DID look like we had been dragged through a nailhole backwards.. We extract the key with ease, and crash.. About 4 hours later, the Lads return and we tell the the story.. they have company, and a plan is hatched to return to the Apartment, in force, and retrieve our Records and Broadcast Gear.. Mr Madbloke will have been asleep a few hours, and we can surprise him in his underwear if he is looking for trouble, and pound him good.. right.. well, you do that lads.. I'm going to sleep.. Technically, that is the end of the day, and i am sleeping here, and now. I feel very tired.
More tomorrow, or the next day..
==101003
Shocking News this weekend - THE SLATE is "calling it a day".. WTF is going on?? i mean, mick hogan's mags all evaporating (IN DUBLIN, er.. and the other ones.. you know them.. the ones that you see,or should i say, USED to see on the newsstands all the time looking irish.. yeah THEM..) and now THIS? Was the slate a MJ product? [loading: conspiracy theory runtime] Did the god of Free-Press slice a bit too deep when he was doing the Organ-donor-card on the scene after IN DUBLIN passed over?? Awwwwwwww Shiiiiiiiiiiitttttt laaaadss.. thats just terrible. Aw fu*k...Well.. good luck lads, you should have NO problem stepping to the next thing, you have the respect and thanks of anyone that came in contact with you and your infectious rag... My collection will now be removed from the jax and relocated to a cardboard box where i will find it in 15 years and remember it as one of the GOOD things that happend around then.. Er.. that is if i live that long.. (etc.) So, farewell then slate.. and godsmeth to you sirs! Oh, and if you send an email here with "mailing list" as the subject, you will be informed of the future of slateness as it's decided, apparently.
==091003
Well.. i have been doing alot of cleaning, cos i'm stuck indoors alot lately.. and you know how it is.. you start to straighten the place out a bit, and you FIND THINGS.. things you had forgotton about.. not LOST, just forgot.. well, if they were lost, you wouldn`t have found them again, would you? Wnyway, i did a bit of a commentary on a cleaning session.. here.. tunes i played as i sorted out the nest.. preserved!!
==071003
Oh good lord.. They remade Texy.. look here for the official site.. i fu*king KNEW my life was looping....
==041003
Session's Tour night tonight.. Live on 626, LASHED crew from THE GRILL in Letterkenny.. 90-92FM all over Ireland, 914 on the auld Sky, and somewhere on the astra 2 satellite at 28.2e as well.. And how am i? fine, thanks for asking... well, as fine as can be expected.. nearly ready to spill the beans about the incident, i know it's painfull waiting.. but i must be sure i' thinking straight b4 i write it up... every day that goes past it seems less scary, so i'm thinking soon it will be trvia!!! hah!! suppose things always look much worse from the Inside out...
Been doing alot of reading the papers while recovering.. THE DAILY MAIL is definatly the nuts.. i have to say, when loaded with steroids, sleeping is an issue, But not with the MAIL!!!! Incredible, but the rantings of the ultra-hip MAIL on the current excuse for a UK government are so soothing, i drop off within 2 pages of reading! I don`t know why, but it eases the confusion and steers my mind into shutdown,, HIGHLY recommend doing the MAIL if you need a relaxer Also been doing alot of DVDing, noticed that COMIC STRIP have had their movie SUPERGRASS out for a while, and i managed to get it for under a tenner.. result.. still no sign of the rest of their output on DVD though.. time is running out, D-VHS is here, and the difference, i can assure you, is stunning... you know the way DVD pisses all over VHS? well, D-VHS pisses all over DVD in the same way.. it's actually depressingly good, and makes me think twice about the future of DVD.. sure, D-VHS is still a linear access media, you have to FFWD and so on, and there is no skipping from chapter to chapter and all that crap, but the picture is SOOOOOO much better, really, the difference is staggering.. no lines, no moire patterns, no 'oil' on the sreen, no graduated shading on dark parts, no tapestry patterns, no edge distortion.. etc.. sadly, we are stuck with DVD/MPEG2 for the next 50 years.. Our DVB (digital Telly) and DVD are all well embedded now, so the REAL fanatics will HAVE to go the way of D-VHS to keep snotty.. lets face facts here, 'smear-o-vision' can be avoided, at MASSIVE cost, so it simply has to be done.. me? - i'm saving for a D-VHS machine now... so like DVD, i can buy one when there are no films out for 2 grand, and watch as everybody else cops on with better machines for a tenth of the price over the next 5 years (sigh) - this, my friends, is one of the penaltys of bieng an early adopter..
NEW FEATURE: This week's spam charts Top 5:
1 - Buy Vicodin/Viagra, 2 - Sildenafil Citrate with Free Delivery, 3 - Instant Rock-Hard Erections guarenteed, 4 - All-natural Solution to ageing, 5 - Microsoft Worm "Use this patch immediatly".
Oh, by the way, it has been suggested to me that i am atually healthy, and all of this "off the radar" crap is a ruse to disguise the fact there is nothing happening, ie: i am bieng less then hinest and refusing to admit that it is GAME OVER for the scene.. nice thought, but luckily, 100% bullshit.. I wish it was that simple, really i do. Anyway, enuf of that please.. Don't you know KILL BILL is out soon???? you should concentrate on that instead..
Added another gallery.. all digital i'm afraid, so all a bit wierd, but WTH, it`s all good innit.. some shots of SG1 in Fermoy, the weekend b4 i went to hell, and some pics of Colourfest, this past weekend... Or should i say, the NOTORIOUS colourfest that happend this weekend (see below: apparently we are all Hip Hop & Rn'B Djs Now..) Have a butchers in the Pictures bit for more..
How was your bank holiday then? I'll get to that later.. first, part 2 of the Ibiza Odyessy.. I think it`s become a weekly thing, so more next week, less stressfull that way.. (flubber, twitch, sniff)
Of coarse the first 24 hours in Ibiza is the most important.. according to the law of mallets, the first 24 hours will program your bit of the Matrix for the duration of the Stay.. I Know this because of the OTHER time i went to Ibiza.. Shall i tell you about THAT? Yes, i think i will. Many of you know i make no secret of my strong feelings of fear and loathing for Ibiza.. this is 100% down to my first experience of it - and just as the first 24 hours of a visit shapes your entire holiday, your first VISIT shapes your entire life experience of Ibiza.. So, the First time then.. right.. ehm.. well, there was me, that is springer, and my 3 droogs, off to the white isle for some peak summer messing. The script was i had signed to the label MANIFESTO, and they were having a night in Amnesia, as you do, and on that strength, we headed out for a bit of an auld lig.. So it proceeded well, we were all friends, the mobile was working, and we were in time for all our flights to Gatwick and on to the isle (there were no direct flights to ibiza from dublin then, it was in fairness 1996, or it could have been 1995, i'm not to clear on that part of the decade..) - arriving in the dead of night to alight the bus to the hotel.. I remembered seeing a documentary on some disaster holiday from hell to ibiza, picturing the apartment block in my mind, described as the most violent and hell-holeish in the world by an irate holidaymaker who just didn`t gots tha funk in the programme, and lo, the place we were staying looked just like it.. but then again, they all look the same at the price we were paying.. Anywya, it's late, we have been travelling and sitting for hours, it`s time for kip, then we can get up early in the morning and get wasted.. ah yes.. so we settled down for some shut-i, and the noise started almost immediatly i lay down.. the usual, distorted ghetto blaster playing a bad mixtape, sounds of glasses breaking, lads singing and bellowing, squeels of joy, shrieks of ecstatic drunken hilarity, bangs and booms, ripping sounds, laughter, more clinking of bottles, doors slamming in a professional manner, and so on... and then, after about an hour of this shite, all of a sudden, it stopped! immediatly.. just the sound of the ghetto blaster, nothing else.. amazing..l as if the revellers had been deleted! Could they all have fallen asleep at the same time? Stranger things have happend.. ah well.. just <45 minutes (unless it`s a C120) till the tape ends and we can sleep soundly.. oh.. click went the tape, and silence.. ahhhhhhh.. Sleeeeeeeeeeeppppp (making a mental note to intimidate the basterds who made all that noise next morning while they were in the roars of their hangovers - noting we would probably start a "brekfast war" doing this - where every morning we would psyche each other out at the eatery for the previous night's indiscresion, yes it was hell, but they had to be taught the hotel apartmento is a place of peace and tranquility at 4am, not a place of mallets and noise - that is catered for by the many,many bars and clubs freely available SOMEWHERE FU*KING ELSE BUT HERE.. Ehm.. So the morning happened, and we went downstairs to the lobby/taxi rank/bar/resteraunt/moped rental shop/ghetto/lobby to get a food script drafted, and who were waiting for us? Our neihbours.. looking VERY poor indeed.. in rag order.. i was formulating my snide comment about the noise, when a rep/pusher came along and addressed the assembeled shambles, it went something like this.. "..right ok, sorry for aking so long, i have been on hold for ages.. right.. it's like this, he can't go back until the hospital releases the body on thusday (it was monday that day) and then he will have to go back via barcelona because there are no direct flights that can take the casket, so we need to get him over to barcelona, then back to england from there.. you'll have to pay for the flight costs yourselves i'm afraid.. now.. lets see.. yes, the police are trying to contact his family at home now, apparently they are going up to his mam's work to find her because there is nobody at home right now.. so we'll hear form them soon as to the family's wishes.. (an so on)" - riiiiiiiiiight.. so after a while of WTF-ing , we get the script that the noize had stopped so suddenly because one of the lads (who arrived the night before with us BTW) had decided he could fly.. yep.. no shit, they had hit the bars immediatly on arriving, got smashed and taken it home.. literally he just took a "i can fly" angle and leaped out the balcony, crashing 4 floors onto a load of garden furniture.. poor sod.. and poor rest of the lads, they not only had to handle that, but were all now stuck in hell for 2 weeks with no money as they had to pay for the casket to be shipped.. hmmm.. riiight.. so inside a record 4 hours of bieng there, the bloke in the next room killed himself.. ok.. riiight... i was later to learn (from a suspected sex thief who managed to move into our apartment with us after a VERY messy night in Amnesia) that these incidents are very common, and the victims are referred to as "leapers" or "flyers".. you can picture the scene down at A&E in San Antonio.. "Yo, carlos, another Leaper up at the San-Frandisco Apartmentos, can you deal with that or are you full up?..." The rest of the First trip was mosly taken up with bieng ripped off, dissapointed, left in the lurch by people, stalked, invaded and mostly sitting in the apartmento armed to the teeth waiting for the next person to climb in the window/door/air vent (none of which had locks) - i actually invented an alarm system by leaning chairs against doors and windows with glass ashtrays balenced on them, so if anyone disturbed them by opening the door/window/vent (that had no locks) the ashtray would smash on the tiled floor and wake us up.. yes, it WAS that bad, and we WERE that paranoid.. So first trip to Ibiza - fooking disaster m8.. really.. shite.. I did learn 2 things though, [1] never ask a local where cafe mambo is, [2] never buy anything from anyone unless they are scottish or irish.
So now you know why i was treating the trip this year with such dread.. i hadn`t been back since the first time, and i really didn`t care... year after year there was talk of playing there for one fool or another, but it never happened.. i was relieved every time the summer Ibiza trip was cancelled.. got away with it for years.. untill this year that is.. Right, where was i, oh yes.. sleep.. ahhh.. sleep.. Now i had been knocking back the water and fizzys for the duration, and drinking my suppliments and generally bieng light and breezy but healthy.. but i was feeling decidedly iffey hitting the sack after escaping the mad ax-murderer in the posh apartment a few hours previous.. in fact.. i decided a good puke was in order, since pissing wasn't really happening too well.. i was having those URGENT pisses that yielded not-alot-at-all of piss, and that was a sign of dehydration i thought.. oh yes it was. SO i had a little puke to myself, and with adrennalin rushing, went to try and get my own/shared with mccabe room in the hotel (remember we were gatecrashers in power and conor g's room).. luckily the tourist industry is totally fuc*ed so we had no problem aquiring a nice room at the knockdown price of [WYCG - "What You Can Get"] a night, okay, gimmie.. up to the NEW room, crashed again, air conditioning on, CNN on the box, ahhh.. right.. so i managed to sleep for ages, and woke to the realisation it was time to work.. had to get scrubbed for LASHED in EDEN.. felt very tired still.. wow.. little headrush there.. little dizzy there.. not to worry.. mark had been on standby for hours, john and conor, of coarse, were missing.. mmm.. did you get the gear out of the psycho's lair? yep.. good.. right.. any trouble? nope.. just a slight misunderstanding where the crew arrived at the building, only to be nabbed by the LASHED crew, mr.psycho included, and forced to play tunes by the pool while food was nibbled and drinks consumed as conversation delevloped!! The noisey dangerous bloke from the night previous was MUCH better behaved, and even apologised to Power for the incident.. nice of him.. pity it wasn't power he scared 1/2 to death (etc.), so, under the cunning cover of social interaction and pleasenries, a crack commando unit scaled the lifts of the building and extracted the gear, and then sat on it by the pool throughout the "warm up" for the night ahead.. and so it found it`s way back to the hotel, and we were ready to go.. the charriot brought us nicely past the west end, which looked like a circus, booze the ringmaster, cops the clowns, and the crowd like a moving violation en masse swaying from side to side holding a pint glass in 1 hand and a dildo in the other as it fights for position infront of the camera crews that were all desperatly egging them on by topping up their glasses while whipping them with microphone leads (plugged in of coarse..) ehm.. and so the club appears.. in we go.. setting up of the DAT and microphones for ambiance is pointless and difficult, so we opt for the house DAT with ours on safety backup cloned out the arse thru a coaxial cable.. lovely.. double safe, now all we need is a crowd... since i am on first, i slap on a tune at about 10% volume so the staff can go about their buisiness without ear damage.. an empty club is brittle on the ears
and withing 15 minutes there is a small but messy group assembling.. the volume creeps up another 10%, and i am introduced to the crew form Sligo, who cheer me up and help quell the rising tide of nausea i felt.. friendly faces and all that.. 1/2 hour in and there is action on the floor, to the astonishment of the lights guy, who now has to start to work, earlier then he likes..ah well.. Thing is, during all this, i was really noticing the heat, and despite drinking a 7up, i was thirsty and feeling sick as a pig.. oh, and dizzy.. the aircon was switched on (at last) and the floor is busy enough for a vibe to exist.. a good showing actually, 99% irish (who else would be there so early) good stuff.. except i REALLY need a wee, and while i`m at it , another green puke. green.. yes.. green.. why? because bile was backing up into my stomach through a siezed stomach exit.. mm.. i did the CLASSIC rock n roll puke, you know, prepared the next record, dropped the headphones, dashed real casual like into the jacks, and into a cubicle looking shifty - though not for the reasons the lady attendant was thinking.. wallop.. out again looking flushed, and back on te decks in time to pretend nothing had happened... riiight.. so the set finished, and i made way for BK who immediatly pitched it all up 4, and got all mechanical on me.. i then needed a (dizzy) script.. power.. get me out of here.. i am going to die.. okay, so Willie Pidgeon appears in the Judgement Sunday mobile, conveniantly passing the hotel on his travells, willie baby, you saved my life.. home.. sick again.. more dizzyness, and pins and needles too.. right.. i`m not keeping ANYTHING down now.. water, bread, onions, nothing.. okay, i feel so dizzy now i need a cold shower to keep sane.. right.. out to the local shop for some GATORADE (my brain told me to do it) and a roll.. and the walk was surreal.. 3 am ish, quiet an dark.. got the drink, drank the drink, went to bed.. now, the next day was the day we LEAVE.. yep.. up like a light and out for a plane at 10pm or something.. i had a nice day sitting around, feeling wierd and waiting to have some more strangley coloured fluids ejected from me somehow (now in ever decreacing amounts), oh, and wondering if i was going to get out of this heat alive.. Our flight was late, and waiting for us in Stanstead was another classic 5 hour wait for the first flight to dublin in the a.m., so we chacked the hospitals for Conor and John, who were missing (of coarse) and panic was upped a notch or too as the afternoon turned to evening.. Mark eventually found them, asleep in their room (quitters!), and we got in the jomaxi for the airport. Oh yes, just as we flew past the arty bit in the town centre, power remembers his passport is at reception in the hotel.. WONDERFULL.. what is it about you and airport taxis power? eh? So, Panic ups a notch, again, as does my heartbeat, which incidently, i can now hear in stereo over the rush of the night air.. The airport was tuff.. a mild queue for the flight, and i was having terrible trouble focusing, and standing. Now you have to remember that i have NOT had any ***** or drink at all.. and i have had alot of sleep, so i look very odd indeed.. Normal actually for anyone ending their holiday in Ibiza i would say.. the rest of the lads looked pretty rough too, except for mccabe who has a pact with the devil apparently, so we seemed to get away with alightig the plane that left disgustingly on time.. A good trick, cocidering my kidneys has failed and i was in NO state to travel.. i knew i was in deep shit when i blacked out during takeoff.. the plane did it`s revving the engine thing, the g-force hit me like an elephant, i just couldn`t breathe at all, my vision closed in a circular pattern and i drifted off, to wake with a shock shortly after the crushing stopped.. messy.. next we were in the brightness of the stanstead corrall, and brandon block was there, looking great actually, well, compared to how i looked then, anyone looked great, but he did look perticularly fit and happy.. i noticed while we were standing doing a quick hello, that standing really was very difficult indeed.. i had to sit on my record box/anything at all immediatly to avoind the impending headrush that i knew would knock me out.. so i squatted.. er.. hi brandon.. etc.. right, now cum the DAWN OF THE DEAD bit.. wandering in the haze of dehydration (for tis wot it was) in stanstead, 2am, flight at 6ish, feeling very ill indeed.. ah! a bench, next to a bin, in the general area, lovely.. curled up like a cat, and went stiff.. my legs numb, my lips numb, my hands cold and stiff.. Cramps in my back, in my legs and my hands too.. oh, and my feet - 2 blocks of numb.. messy.. i am roused from the earplugged slumber on the bench by conor, time to go.. i sit up, get a headrush.. oops.. who lowered the bar? shite.. 3 hours ago i couldn`t raise my head to head level for fear of passing out, now sitting was an issue.. oh dear.. they will NEVER let me on the flight.. i am doomed to be experimented on by the NHS! So, there is this stupid queueing thing in Gatwick where you have to walk in a snake pattern, in a "folded" queue towards the sucurity.. nylon ribbons on sticks defining the area you queue in, nothing to lean on, no counters, no furniture, just space.. i was fuc*ed (again).. there was little chance of me making it to the end of the queue, let alone bieng coherent enough to present my passport.. the lads helped by propping me up with a pile of bags i think, and we soon found ourselves in the departures area.. I think they let me through because they wanted nothing to do with us, looking so messy and having so much strange electronic equipment on our persons.. mm.. anyway, another frightening crush/pass out on takeoff later, i am seeing things, and hearing things too.. a bit scary, waaaaaaaaaaaay past the interesting stage, now in the worriengly annoying stage.. okay, here is the plan, as soon as we land, i am getting into a taxi and going to my doctor, i feel wierd beyond belief.. right, so it was, touched down, marched out into a taxi, and off to the doc's.. the consultation took 9 seconds, he looked at me, and asked would i be able to get a lift into A&E or would i like an ambulence.. It was friday morning.. the weekend was just begenning.. and WHAT a weekend i had in store...==241003
NASA are 45 years old this week.. they first did something cool in 1958.. Ahhhh... So cute the idea that we may someday get off this pieceofshit rock.. Well, it's time for a reality check, we MUST announce our existance if we are to EVER meet E.T., it's just sad that we will be long, long, LONG dead before anyone even realises we are saying hello, and even -l-o-n-g-e-r- dead when they finally drop 'round for a session.. (sigh) What we REALLY need to work on is manipulating TIME, because time is the killer.. Distance becomes meaningless when you can stop time innit... Good Old NASA.. god bless them and their DEEP SPACE 1, the VOYAGER of the day.. go on the lads.. ("millions starving, men on the moon..." - sewer rant from irish wino in 'clockwork orange' opening scenes)
==231003
This weekend Is a major for us all.. Bank Holiday, with WINTER PARTY in the point in dublin on saturday evening, and the COLOURS festival thingy, all day and night alot at enigma in carrickmacross.. yes, i will be attending, on the sunday for a bit of spinnage.. popeye stylee.. behave now!!! May be attempting a return to the SQUAD this saturady as well (need the money) and so on.. So, go4th and njoi..
==211003
And so, the Beans Must now be spilled. The Ibiza Script Starts here.. Now, don`t be surprised if this takes a while to unfold, there is alot to get through, but here we go..
Preface:
Okay.. so lets start BEFORE the beginning.. The weekend Previous to the week in question.. Gig in Fermoy i believe? Yes, usual story, fun fun fun and all that lark.. The sound was in HUMMMMM mode during the breakdowns, so i had a bit of a stressfull time, you know the story... so loud that the bast*rd Hummm from hell crept in each and every breakdown - sometimes, if i was feeling lazy, i would not bother to drop the bass and it would get SO loud it actually made the record skip!! Shit on a stick annoying.. Anyway, didn`t come home, carried on to the darkest regions of west cork for an overnight with a m8.. Amazing how fast you can drive on all those new roads around cork at 4am, really nice spin at that time of night - very THX1138 in all those tunnels.. Orange light and the warm air - and it WAS warm.. that heatwave thing that so brilliantly occpuied all the news bullitans that weekend wa in FULL effect.. think it put everyone in a specialk kind of mellow mood.. Anyway, landed, ate, hung out a bit, then donned the Earplugs and slept.. Got up lunchtimey and headed immediatly out into the gridlock from Cork-Dublin for a good old Bonding session with the seat in the car and my ass in "numb" mode.. Christ on a bike what a fu*king pain in the hole - literally.. EVERYBODY driving like a total asshle.. alot of people with flags tied to their cars with 12 kids in Sportsgear crammed into the luggage space mingling with.. er.. well.. just assholes really.. Not good driving conditions.. Not at all.. especially as i had to be back in Dublin for 8pm to do my Phoney-Baloney Radio Show.. Mmm.. On a Sunday You exclaim?! Yes, the previous night had been a SLANE (or whatever it was) broadcast, so the 626 got moved to Sunday.. So.. The traffic bled us dry, didn't have a chance to get home to get records for the show, so i had to play what i played the night before.. again.. ehm.. So i totally lost really.. think about it.. anyone listening then would have been doing it by chance, te regular 626ers got Slaned, so were still sore at the radio for poking them like that and were NOT listening.. i pity anyone that was in the club the night before - they got a wierd flashback 20 hours after they began their mallet, and were ripe for a bit of stability, rather then bieng plunged right back into it all.. mmm.. so, with 7 minutes to spare, did radio, went home, slept. Monday was merely a formality, and tuesday rolled around..
Day 1 : The Shit.
Woke, threw clothes and blah into a bag, a small shoulder bag, nothing to girly, nothing to cool, just clean undergarments and fine male grooming products... Drove to RTE where the plan was we were to meet at 3-4ish to leave in a taxi at about 4 to be at the airport at 5 to fly at 6.. Sound easy? Yeasssss it DOES! Look again. Meet 3ish. leave. Taxi. Airport. Fly. and again please.. Meet 3ish. Yeah. Meet 3ish. 3ish. threeeeeisssshhhh. Okay, fine. 3. 3 it is. So i get there at 3.30 Ex-fuc*ing-Zactly and proceed into the Radio Building after parallel sliding my bus into a nice space it will occupy for (i thought) the next 48 hours, and lo, Mccabe is looking for his arse amongst a big pile of arses that are all neatly piled in a giant pile of arse... the sort of pile that looks as if it was put together by a seasoned professional arse piler.. Messy.. we are Fu*king leaving in like, Fuc*ing NOW and you are looking for a LEAD? (Panic: Warning stage 1) Ahh.. the lead is found.. and WHICH machines are we bring to Tape the Night In EDEN? Oh i see.. Wonderfull, and now a bag to put it all in.. Hang on, How come i have had my socks and stuff put by since, like, FRIDAY and you all have to go Arse-pile Diving with No Minutes to Going time? I hate my life . Wait a minute, WHERE IS power? (Panic:Actual Stage 1)I distinctly recall it bieng 3 ish to leave at 4 ish to be there at 5ish type thing.. even just remembering the 3ish bit would do.. shiiiiiiiiiit. okay, call his mobile.... which is Switched off.. Riiiiiiiiight.. Conor G was there, exooding calm (Panic:Back to Warning Stage 1), he explains John is on the way, and his mobile is dead.. We wait.. We wait soem more.. The Taxi Arrives.. Mmm.. No sign on it`s roof.. This IS a Taxi innit? Riiiight. It's a Knackney, so, no driving in the Buslanes then eh squire? Nahh... you wouldn`t want that mate, naghhhhhhhhhh, it'd get us through the building site quicker.. you just drive in the main flow there at your leisure man.. take your time, we have all the time in the world.. yeah baby.. so much we had to actually LEAVE without Power just now.. Oh, did i mention we had to leave WITHOUT POWER? Yes, the liss was taken so severly, that at 4.30ish, we had to leave, in out non-taxi, and go to the airport is we were to have any hope of catching the last trollybus to stanstead that evening.. Oh, and you can Downgrade my Panic status no Nil, and upgrade my WTF? to Stage 2 (Stage 2 involves saying "WTF is ????? Playing at" or "WTF is the story with ?????" at least twice every 5 minutes for the first half hour, falling to once a half hour after 4 hours, and then with meals for a week) Good god what agreat start. I am Jaded already. So did we make the Flight to London, sorry, england?? Of COARSE we did.. yes we can.. Cancell the WTF, Load the "We are the Lads" Prigram for getting away with the Plane thing.. Yes.. things are loking up again. Heloooooooo Stanstead..
So how ya been? still doing bogie hotdogs and glass panelling? I see.. So , what is the angle here? Any sign of our records off the baggage shoot? or in he "Suspect Device" area? Hmm.. Nowt eh.. well, i think me an Mark Will go to the EasyJest Desk and get logged in for the Ibiza flight, since it`s closing in 3 minutes and we have no idea where the Checkin Desk is in relation to this Contained area we now found ourselves in.. Mmm.. (Panic: Level 1) Bagless, late, usual... So the Easyjest Desk is.. Empty.. Cool.. just a nice happy-her-shift-is-over girly dressed in what looks like a set of curtains from Golfinger's Private Jet.. Okay, so whats the script on the flight? Yeah, Closed, JUST now.. and anyway, we hadn`t any bags to check in. So, we had a choice here.. Start the Row imediatly, and when Conor And Power arrived with the bags, they could be our re-inforcements, possible pulling of the "good cop,bad cop" angle if we go too far before they arrive, but hell, i think a row is the best coarse of action here.. Aw, but then i remember all those crap TV shows with wierdos Freaking out at Airline Staff, and i bite my lip.. then i remember we are Stranded in Engerland, overnight, on RTE business.. Mmm.. a SHORT trainride from West London, a playground of the Springer for many years on and off, and RIPE for a bit of "Accidental" Scripts.. So, the Doll at the Counter spins us the "first flight out in the morning" crap, and suggests we get pissed and sleep on a nice bench in the area, riiiiiiight. like i`m gonna sleep on a bench to get a flight at 5am, like hell i will, WE are going into london on the Rip, via a nice Aparthotel and a Decent meal.. This is NOBODYS fault, except the Fuc*ing eejit that booked us on 2 flights so close together, okay, so they weren't to know we would have bags with us (records, clothes, recording equipment), after all, we were just going over for 2 nights for the fun of it.. you know.. something to do? Ehm.. anyway, no hard feelings nice Easyjest doll, we will be on our way into Londres for an angle.. Enuf.. I'm not going to get upset. infact, we need an emergency 5-star hotel to cheer us up i think.. Ah yess. i know some excellent establishments loaded with saunas and a savage brekfast, oh and you can cancell that "cos it`s a near-miss you can go on the next one free, and the next one is 5.30am.." shite, we'll fly early afternoon, after a serious night in lux-paradise-expenseaccount-land!!! Yeah baby.. (and so on).. We were Fairly resigned to the fact we were screwed byt the time Power and Conor arrived with the bags, which was quite a while later.. and we all proceeded to not care as a unit, regigned to our fate of a night in london, by accident.. Yes, it WAS a tuesday night, but im sure something happens on a tuesday in london, even if it's in our hotel rooms
heheh.. Then a bolt of lightning from the Ladeee in the Curtains, we may be in with a chance.. so, she disappears off into the scenery, and then reemerges with her friend, dressed in less loud curtains, so must have been a higher rank, oh, hang on, has a walkie-talkie and a big white bagde on her lepel, what's this, we are nice blokes, and we can get on the flight after all.. wow!! you are the nuts girls!!! I can't believe there has been nobody here to witness this great act of human generosity, there are always cameras to catch the Wankers freaking out at Beurocratic cretins in horro-airport situations, but no camera here this time to catchthis.. tuff break.. Oh, so it's delayed is it? Hasn`t even Boarded eh? Riiiiiight.. Thanks anyway, i suppose.. So, a short, tight flight to Ibeefah, and we were Landed, Breathing in the Soup they Call air, and Sitting in a Nice LASHED mobile, getting the Fullon About the Scene this summer.. Apparently, it`s been a Tough Time for all Concerned.. we listen with interest as the script unfolds.. Oh, look, a new road.. Oh Look.. an Unfinished Eyesore Building.. Oh Look, another massive shell of a building.. Oh Yes.. So, we had to be installed first of all, Conor and John in a nice Hotel, Me and Mark in an Apartment thing.. Shared with One of the Lashed Entourage - he lived there apparently.. Not much evidence of it to be fair, a wicked collection of Trainers lined up in the hall, and some FINE male grooming products in the wet room, and a single Book on the coffee table "The SAS and their secret battle with the IRA". Right. Okay. And there is more. The Apartment had a satellite reciever! Joy! Something to mess with.. Anything in the Fridge even? No. Nowt. Just a bottle of champagne (open) with a spoon in it.. Fine, we add our drinks, space food ana so on and Head out to meet everyone in Bar M (the Manumission place) down in the town.. It's located right by the sea, and along a notorious boardwalk, usually populated with Traders in Bootleg CDs, Recreational Pharms and Sex (the boardwalk, not the bar!!) so i was looking foward to a game of "tease the dealer" later, as bieng a non-drinker, i would be sober when everyone else was unwinding after the messy day, and would be in need of amusement.. i had planned to ask dodgy charicters if they had any "spin" for sale, you know man, SPIN, what? you haven`t got any.. aw man.. we all want some, and there's 10 of us.. (and so on) This can provide endless entertainment if the dealer concerned is an enterprising individual, and wants to keep "in" with the new ***** bieng peddled.. Pretending to be American (calafornian) or Canadian usually closes the spoof nicely.. ANYWAY, didn`t get that far..we all assembled, the 626ers, close personal aquaintences of the 626ers that were already embedded on the Island, and the LASHED Lads.. The Chat began, people had dwinks, i had a glass of water, with ice, the athmosphere was taken in, and we watched the outlines of girls dancing behind whitescreens in the walls.. very gimmick.. and the Night wore heavy.. i had to go and chill out, and MArk was thinking the same - it had been a LONG day.. So we split, extracting the Roomkey for Power & Conor's room at their hotel as we left as we needed to raid their bags for some of our valuable property they had, and we wanted.. and the taxi painlessed us to the hotel door.. we made eye contact with the desk-bloke, the usual old guy on the night shift, cool, in the lift, in the room, leave the key with the sploom on the desk, and we are off.. walking to our place.. Nice.. it cool inside, time to explore! Mmm.. spiral staircase into the cieling.. surely not a roof garden.. oh yes, a roof garden. Mm, so to the business of the Telly, okay, all the wires had been ripped out.. mmm.. Frenzy stylee.. Literally the whole thing was knackered, all facing the skip in the sky to be honest.. but hell, it's something to do... we can fix that. So we did.. and fired up the PACE sat box.. Analog, on Astra1, so loads of german crap, and CNN.. Ahh,,,,, CNN. Saviour of the Sane.. Nice. Better then nothing.. Right, it`s 4.30am, time for bed.. into the cupboard bedroom, door secure, dat machines, tunes and so on in boxes around us on the floor, and we are safe. Ahhh... Relax.Bang. Big Bang. Crash. Scream. Mumble. Silence for ages (maybe it was in another apartment? the walls are probably paper thin). Bang (again). Bang (louder). Shouting. Mumbling. "You southern cu*t". Bang. "Come up here and bring your Beretta, i'll leave the door open". Bang Bang Bang BangiddyBangBangBang. Shouting. Cursing. [Time passes with more Banging and so on..]. Okay, i had Just begun to maybe begin to drift off to sleep when this happend, so it must be, 5ish? Yeah. Time to see if McCabe is awake.. Yep. Is he Hearing this Shooting, Killing "Southern" shouting? Yep. Is He shitting his Pants? Yep. Apparently, from his position in the room, the Mumbling can be almost understood, Via the French Windows, And the Shouter is having a conversation, possibly on his mobile, and is aware there are "DJs" in the room we are in.. he is DEFINATLY annoyed about something, and it has something to do with something he'd like to sort out with the assistance of violence. And we are trapped and we are going to die. First thing we have to do is get the fu*k out of there we decide.. Right, so, that's that sorted. So. How do we feel about getting into a fight now with Forces unknown for reasons unknown just to roam the streets of Ibeefa at 6am on a wednesday morning? with 5 heavy record boxes and so on? The debate continues as does the mumbling and bumping throught the walls - well at least it`s bumping and not banging anymore.. Is that bloke actually in here? in this flat? Man.. he must be the guy we were sharing with.. What did we do to annoy him? Used the ashtray incorrectly? Moved his book? Fixed his satellite reciever? Maybe he hadn't been told we were sharing with him, come home, found the porridge gobbed-in, and freaked out.. rung his mates, got the script there were 2 southern irish DJs in his flat and lost the plot.. Look, we were in a locked room in the dark hearing all this shit, and all we had to go on was a book on a coffee table - this guy could be ex-army with a bad-pint experience in N.Ireland he holds anyone from south of the boarder personally responsible for, we could, now only COULD mind, be Fuc*ed. Fuc*ed comprehensively in a _special_ misunderstanding that, frankly, neither mark or i could care less about.. in fact, this was a clear case of this guy confusing us with someone that gave a toss.. Right, so what do we do? Ok, we will try and reason with him. Talk our way into an understanding, and if he gets messy, we will have to hit him with something.. Grab the essentials, leave the heavy stuff, get dressed and lets go. Door opens, no noise for ages, bloke sitting on bed in main bedroom in underwear looking out into corridor.. we look back.. he says something, we introduce ourselves, he replys "no, that was someone else mate..", right, we mumble something about going for a walk, and we leave, raidin gthe fridge on the way and noticing a knife had appeared on the kitchen counter.. So, we are on the streets, our gear, most of it work gear, in the room, in the apartment, with the madman in it, and we have nowhere to go, and the sun is coming up.. Right.. Back to Conor & John's room.. they are probably still at SPACE and we can blag in.. which is what we do.. the desk-guy recognises us, assumes we have been out partieng till this hour after he last saw us since it IS ibiza, and we DID look like we had been dragged through a nailhole backwards.. We extract the key with ease, and crash.. About 4 hours later, the Lads return and we tell the the story.. they have company, and a plan is hatched to return to the Apartment, in force, and retrieve our Records and Broadcast Gear.. Mr Madbloke will have been asleep a few hours, and we can surprise him in his underwear if he is looking for trouble, and pound him good.. right.. well, you do that lads.. I'm going to sleep.. Technically, that is the end of the day, and i am sleeping here, and now. I feel very tired.
More tomorrow, or the next day..
==101003
Shocking News this weekend - THE SLATE is "calling it a day".. WTF is going on?? i mean, mick hogan's mags all evaporating (IN DUBLIN, er.. and the other ones.. you know them.. the ones that you see,or should i say, USED to see on the newsstands all the time looking irish.. yeah THEM..) and now THIS? Was the slate a MJ product? [loading: conspiracy theory runtime] Did the god of Free-Press slice a bit too deep when he was doing the Organ-donor-card on the scene after IN DUBLIN passed over?? Awwwwwwww Shiiiiiiiiiiitttttt laaaadss.. thats just terrible. Aw fu*k...Well.. good luck lads, you should have NO problem stepping to the next thing, you have the respect and thanks of anyone that came in contact with you and your infectious rag... My collection will now be removed from the jax and relocated to a cardboard box where i will find it in 15 years and remember it as one of the GOOD things that happend around then.. Er.. that is if i live that long.. (etc.) So, farewell then slate.. and godsmeth to you sirs! Oh, and if you send an email here with "mailing list" as the subject, you will be informed of the future of slateness as it's decided, apparently.
==091003
Well.. i have been doing alot of cleaning, cos i'm stuck indoors alot lately.. and you know how it is.. you start to straighten the place out a bit, and you FIND THINGS.. things you had forgotton about.. not LOST, just forgot.. well, if they were lost, you wouldn`t have found them again, would you? Wnyway, i did a bit of a commentary on a cleaning session.. here.. tunes i played as i sorted out the nest.. preserved!!
==071003
Oh good lord.. They remade Texy.. look here for the official site.. i fu*king KNEW my life was looping....
==041003
Session's Tour night tonight.. Live on 626, LASHED crew from THE GRILL in Letterkenny.. 90-92FM all over Ireland, 914 on the auld Sky, and somewhere on the astra 2 satellite at 28.2e as well.. And how am i? fine, thanks for asking... well, as fine as can be expected.. nearly ready to spill the beans about the incident, i know it's painfull waiting.. but i must be sure i' thinking straight b4 i write it up... every day that goes past it seems less scary, so i'm thinking soon it will be trvia!!! hah!! suppose things always look much worse from the Inside out...
Been doing alot of reading the papers while recovering.. THE DAILY MAIL is definatly the nuts.. i have to say, when loaded with steroids, sleeping is an issue, But not with the MAIL!!!! Incredible, but the rantings of the ultra-hip MAIL on the current excuse for a UK government are so soothing, i drop off within 2 pages of reading! I don`t know why, but it eases the confusion and steers my mind into shutdown,, HIGHLY recommend doing the MAIL if you need a relaxer
Also been doing alot of DVDing, noticed that COMIC STRIP have had their movie SUPERGRASS out for a while, and i managed to get it for under a tenner.. result.. still no sign of the rest of their output on DVD though.. time is running out, D-VHS is here, and the difference, i can assure you, is stunning... you know the way DVD pisses all over VHS? well, D-VHS pisses all over DVD in the same way.. it's actually depressingly good, and makes me think twice about the future of DVD.. sure, D-VHS is still a linear access media, you have to FFWD and so on, and there is no skipping from chapter to chapter and all that crap, but the picture is SOOOOOO much better, really, the difference is staggering.. no lines, no moire patterns, no 'oil' on the sreen, no graduated shading on dark parts, no tapestry patterns, no edge distortion.. etc.. sadly, we are stuck with DVD/MPEG2 for the next 50 years.. Our DVB (digital Telly) and DVD are all well embedded now, so the REAL fanatics will HAVE to go the way of D-VHS to keep snotty.. lets face facts here, 'smear-o-vision' can be avoided, at MASSIVE cost, so it simply has to be done.. me? - i'm saving for a D-VHS machine now... so like DVD, i can buy one when there are no films out for 2 grand, and watch as everybody else cops on with better machines for a tenth of the price over the next 5 years (sigh) - this, my friends, is one of the penaltys of bieng an early adopter.. NEW FEATURE: This week's spam charts Top 5:
1 - Buy Vicodin/Viagra, 2 - Sildenafil Citrate with Free Delivery, 3 - Instant Rock-Hard Erections guarenteed, 4 - All-natural Solution to ageing, 5 - Microsoft Worm "Use this patch immediatly".
Oh, by the way, it has been suggested to me that i am atually healthy, and all of this "off the radar" crap is a ruse to disguise the fact there is nothing happening, ie: i am bieng less then hinest and refusing to admit that it is GAME OVER for the scene.. nice thought, but luckily, 100% bullshit.. I wish it was that simple, really i do. Anyway, enuf of that please.. Don't you know KILL BILL is out soon???? you should concentrate on that instead..