I don't remember how many weeks I played for nothing, but it was more than one or two. I should've known better, but hey, I'd just dropped a shedload of money on fat joints when I was in NYC. That's got to make me cool, right? When James, the promoter, started turning up telling me that he'd said a prayer before he came out, I should've known better, but you'll put up with endless nonsense from you mates, won't you?
I went to all the cool record shops in New York, bought all the hypest joints, and then flew home with them, happy in the knowledge that I was going to tear it up on the ones and twos in Leeds. I went to Fat Beats. I went to Discorama. I was on a mission.
Except actually, this is utter toss. Boring. Not totally without merit, but hip-hop as a slightly over-earnest art form. I'm all for trying to dance about architecture, but I refuse to dance to a record that is in any way trying to maintain some sort of artistic distance from the dancefloor.
Music is meant to move you in a primal way - if I want something thought-provoking, I'll read a book. If I'm listening to hip-hop, I want it to make me feel like I'm about to uprock, throw a windmill, whatever.
The worst bit is that this tune samples the War Of The Worlds theme. I pray to all that is holy that I never thought that was a good idea. And if I did, then count me guilty of overthinking what might make people shakes their asses on a dance floor. Oh well, it was only $4.49....
