Indietronic outfit Blackhackr agreed to an interview. Of sorts. Here it is. All out of sorts.
1. What is Blackhackr?
Like most modern music, Blackhackr is best described in terms of a recipe.
Take three to four living humans. It’s important they start off alive for this recipe. Discard any deceased humans you may have picked up inadvertently when foraging. Dead humans are no good. They taste bitter and will spoil the whole dish.
Simmer the humans with the rhythm mechanics of world music and the darkest honesty of blues and folk until intensely grainy. When ready, they should resemble an Oxo cube made of charred flesh and granite.
It is essential at this point to offset the acridity of Blackhackr with a powerfully gentle aromatic herb. Grate the seeds of the Mescal Bean Tree into the mix at this point.
Crumble the residual grimey mixture into the reanimated, ever-living corpse of rock ‘n’ roll. Watch the corpse’s eyes. The corpse will understand. But! Don’t make eye contact!
Find a number of power sockets for the humans, which are hopefully still living, despite their traumatic ordeal. Note that Blackhackr usually need about 7 power sockets to make all the equipment work.
Stand back. Stand well back.
Listen. With ears.
2. Why is there a Blackhackr? What makes Blackhackr essential?
Moving away from the recipe metaphor, Blackhackr make music that is an unholy juxtaposition of electronic sounds.
Blachcrackr range all the way from decades-old uncleared samples, massive ‘90s electro-synth, surf rock guitar whilst somehow squeezing in something resembling a new wave rhythm section.
In laymen’s terms, Blackhackr are an expansive-sounding electro-rock (indietronic) band.
Simpler still, one could compare Blackhackr to various bands from the ‘60s, ‘70s, ‘80s, ‘90s, even the noughties. Blackhackr definines the ‘10s:
Post-rock histrionic guitar work? Yeah!
Zooming, booming post-punk distorted bass melodies? You bet!
Brave-but-beautiful world music drum loops, deep boom kicks and live percussion? Come on!
Edgily pop friendly yet somewhat progressive. Rather considered. They like to read. Blackhackr feel like they know what they’re doing. Of course, in the music business, knowing what you’re doing is technically impossible so none of us believe blackhackr.
3. Why do I keep seeing the word Blackhackr? Is it a typo? Did they drop the ‘e’ on purpose?
Sometimes dropping an ‘e’ is essential to appreciate the wider picture of reality. Or obscure it.
4. Are Blackhackr going to be huge?
What, like fill stadiums?
The Pyramid Stage at Glastonbury?
It’s already written in the stars.
5. What else are Blackhackr working on?
Fortunately, due to their independence and the trust placed in them by Futureproof Records, they have a few other projects in the offing:
Time to iron. Iron. A noun for such a powerful and historically relevant metal. A noun which, when used as a verb, describes a menial task that emphasises our bonds to our capitalist overlords (presuming we want to look sufficiently smart so as to keep our jobs). In the future, the verb “to iron” will mean to brutally defend yourself with a shirt-smartening tool. After the apocalypse, obviously. After the apocalypse I’ll be doing a LOT MORE ironing. Ka-thunk.
I’m the kind of moaning little cunt who despises other people’s happiness. When I’m not trying to earn more money than my friends I take the high ground at every opportunity.
I consider myself and my values better than those around me. I feel guilty about the ice caps and the rainforests and the ozone.
You’ll hear me say: “I’m the way I am because I’ve never had to go to war.”
When the war that is going to end this financial mess kicks off, you’ll find me under my bed. Drunk. Shitting it.
Anyone who actually reads the irrelevant dross published on this website might be aware that a character who only semi-pretentiously named himself as The Main Protagonist – well, aren’t we all the main protagonist in the story of our own lives? – has a chance of being conscious of his, or, er, my love for radio, music and in particular the best radio station on the planet: BBC Radio 6 Music.
And 6 Music is ten years old. I only started listening to 6 in 2003, when my employer (coincidentally the BBC) happened to permit me to listen to it whilst working.
I had neither a DAB radio of my own, nor broadband internet. It was a different era. It was like the 1950s of the Internet compared to now. Social media hadn’t been invented. There was no Facebook or Twitter.
As a recent graduate of an arts-based degree I wasn’t hugely employable, so whilst I was working at the BBC, it was in the highly confidential and sensitive “Scanning Room”, document managing high profile employee paperwork and seeing all sorts of naughtiness.
My favourite memory perhaps being the opportunity to read about a disciplinary for one member of staff who’d been having an affair with another and doing all sorts of sneaky, saucy, kinky devilry whilst in the office/studio. Names are forgotten so the Data Protection Act is null and void in writing this. I think. I hope.
I’d always adored music and had been rather fond of radio for years. I loved John Peel’s shows. I never knew I’d get the chance to hear an entire radio station inspired by his ethos of openness, going mostly against the grain of commerciality.
Vic McGlynn‘s afternoon show was a revelation. Hearing Daft Punk Is Playing In My House for the first time was a glimpse into genius. An indie punk rock band playing dance music about a dance band playing at their house. Which also SOUNDS as if it’s a live band playing Daft Punk.
Unfortunately a lot of our time working in our jobs at the BBC was spent “on standby” as opposed to doing actual “stuff”, so we were told to listen to the radio and watch telly and generally chat to kill time. We weren’t allowed out of the Scanning Room. We were guards of the dark information, in a dark place. No windows. Literally no windows.
As for us BBC scanners – myself, Vanessa and Bonnie (later of Electricity In Our Homes infamy) – we became fast friends before the management realised how much money they could save by selling off the entire HR dept to a third party, albeit a third party which would run it really quite terribly (Capita, aka BBC HR Direct), and thus give the management lovely big bonuses to buy big houses in Holland Park and Notting Hill.
6 Music is very much a part of this writer’s present, and remains one aspect of the BBC he adores. And so he felt compelled to respond to this challenge:
As part of 6 Music’s Birthday celebrations we want to hear 6 Of The Best from you.
Just select six songs that most represent 6 Music to you by filling out the form below.
You’ll be able to hear a different listeners’ selection each week on the Liz Kershaw show on Saturdays, 13:00-16:00. We’ll also be compiling a chart of all the entries that are sent in.
I’ve replied. I bit on the bait. Here’s my first of the 6:
Guillemots – Made Up Love Song #43
The wife and I played this at our wedding for the first dance. Our Auntie Pam in a broad Manchester accent is on video yelling, “WHAT THE BLOOMIN’ HECK IS THIS?” in response to the wonky Hammond intro to which my newlywed wife and I did a close dance. We pulled some delightful dancey twirls out of the bag in the song’s climactic second part, much to the surprised cheers of onlookers who hitherto had only ever seen me raving sketchily in muddy fields.
The people we elect, to serve our best interests, are being blackmailed.
The people doing the blackmailing don’t want what is best for US they want what is best for themselves.
What’s good for them is actually bad for us.
Therefore, we no longer live in a democracy where our elected officials are working in our best interests, we’re living in a poisonous oligarchy, one of the main aims of which is to make money for Rupert Murdoch, regardless of who suffers, hurts or dies.
The systems that our forefathers built to protect us are being taken away.
Those with the power are becoming more powerful and less answerable.
Those with the money are becoming richer.
Those with very little are set to suffer more.
I don’t want that for me.
I don’t want that for you.
I don’t want it for my kids, your kids, our friends, our parents, our countrymen.
Maybe the fact that I haven’t found a way of making this funny is evidence that I’m not a very good comedian. I’ll admit I find it waaaaaaay easier to make jokes about things that matter less.
But this stuff really matters. It is no overstatement to say that the future of British democracy is up for grabs here. If we all just stop talking about this, if it goes away, if we, collectively, take our eye off the ball nothing will change. Murdoch will get more powerful and what you want for your life will cease to matter.
So, I’m sorry for being a boring twat, but at least now hopefully, you understand why.
FANS OF SURPRISES are confirming that more surprises than ever are becoming still less surprising.
This latest realisation comes after a slew of reports that UK railway passengers customers are set to pay fares of inflation-busting rates yet again, despite two prior decades of unfair inflation-busting fare increases.
Furthermore this news comes despite the perpetual increase in overcrowding and statistics of ever-reduced reliability, despite these facts’ own inevitability and corresponding unsurprisingness.
One especially frantic commuter commented today as follows:
“I just cannot believe we are getting value for money. Every day I wham myself into that cattle carriage like a bent-up cow, along with several hundred other bovinesque city folk.
I can hardly breath without inhaling the long hair strands of the pretty blond less than an inch from my face. But it works better than viagra. You ask my wife! She still wasn’t surprised though. I was in prison for 4 years for molesting the neighbours’ cats, so she knows the way I am.
And even then the cats knew what I was going to do as I had to protect their health and safety risks – not to mention my own – by showing them an RSPCA DVD and a C90 explaining the risks of Cat Aids before I could proceed.
I tell you, life is no longer full of surprises. This government needs to get it sorted out, but no: they’re too busy stuffing their faces with genetically-recreated dodos at the taxpayers’ expense. What a surprise. I don’t think!”
Even Tom Vek, an occasional songs minstrel and proponent of surprises, remarks:
“Every song I make is containing less surprises as listeners are getting more and more familiar and complacent with the vapid surprises I try and foist upon them. Everything is old and done and unsurprising. I can’t just pump the drums up to 11 anymore.
No wonder Tricky got so depressed after Maxinquaye. He did it all on that album back in 1995. Perhaps he killed the surprise. Wouldn’t surprise me. No wonder he kicked a pigeon into a shop window. The pigeon saw it coming as its guts splattered across the front of Superdrug. No surprises there.
This comes despite the 11 year gap I’ve left in between this album and the album before it; my so-called fans weren’t surprised I’d faded into profound obscurity. Unsurprisingly forgotten, just like all humans before me and yet to come (and then die).
Yet still my so-called fans weren’t surprised when I made a comeback after surprising them by taking a job at Blockbuster Video – in the Adult section, as a customer fluffer – for the best part of 2 decades to fund my return to indie microfame.”
The Association of Chief Police Officers were warning citizens today that as a result of the dramatic reduction of surprises, that they ought not to be too blasé to criminal acts. Chief PC Plod stated:
“Citizens must at least act surprised so as to emphasise how awful everything is these days, as opposed to acting cynically unsurprised.
I mean, yes, sure, this country has become humdrum, pointless and a waste of landfill opportunity. Nevertheless there are-”
…unfortunately at this point Chief PC Plod broke off his sentence and bit into a cyanide capsule. Unsurprisingly he couldn’t see the f*cking point any more.
Existentially, Chief PC Plod bit off more than he could chew. Surprising. Not.
beak would only be up at 5AM in East London with people he doesn’t know if a) he had one too many Monster Munch, or b) he is meeting fellow cyclists to ride the marathon course.
Riding the marathon course after organisers have closed the roads, and before the runners have set off is one of the greatest things, let alone rides, I’ve done. It is a unique, guerrilla opportunity to cane around the best of the capitals streets. Traffic-free.
Or it used to be a unique opportunity.
In 2008 ten people dragged their asses out of bed to see if it would be as much fun as they thought it would be. It was. Last year 150 people amassed at Blackheath for the same ride, the morning passed incident free and a few of the front runners made it across the finish line. Both rides were amazing experiences, equally intensified by the number of participants.
This year London Marathon organisers have communicated with an Internet forum where discussion is underway about the same ride. They’ve politely asked for the thread to be pulled and for riders not to attempt cycling the route, rightly citing insurance and the health and safety of staff that will still be on the roads setting up the course.
In hindsight there was no need to use a public, yet niche, Internet forum to rally the troops. Given the scale of last years event, it was only natural that it was going to happen again even without the forum. But people are keen, really keen to do this ride and they want to promote it.
The trouble with the Internet (along with the stupendous amounts of porn it offers) is that it is easy to forget sometimes that the wider world is watching, the authorities probably had an eye on the forum immediately after the 2010 ride. They had to do something about their potential problem, actively, rather than reactively.
The forum in question is now at a junction, it could chose to encourage the ride (keep it real), or work with the marathon organisers with a view to making the ride an official part of the day (sell out).
It remains to be seen how many people will now turn up on Sunday 17th April 2011. Head over to Blackheath and have a look. Get there early.
It might be January, but it needn’t be bleak, or so says beak…
January 17th is officially the most depressing day of the year. Bummer.
In the last 16 days I have already partaken in all of the following distractions to help me through this well trodden feeling-sorry-for-myself time of year. January is grey and dark and hateful and I’m not drinking (yeah right – ed).
So instead I’ve been engaging in the following top 7activities:
07 Watching all six series of The Sopranos
Never seen it. Well written television at its finest. A good bit of beginners balcony psychology to settle the mind as I realise that all of my short comings are actually my Mum’s fault.
06 Bought a new 32″ TV
To watch The Sopranos on.
05 Indoor Climbing
One of the most knackering things I’ve ever done. The advice given by my experienced accomplice was to wear washing up gloves for extra grip. The liar. Nobody else was wearing Marigolds. Everybody else was laughing at me.
04 Building a 1:1 scale model of Tower Hamlets
A fascinating project, teaching me about local geography and town planning. I’m going to need a bigger shed.
03 Learning about Native American history
I’m not claiming to be the first person to have not paid attention at school and now smuggly relish in the joys of self-learning, but this stuff is gold. Those Indians were more interested in buying guns from the European settlers than learning how to maintain and manufacture them themselves. Or harness the power of gunpowder. Bit like me at school really.
02 Growing garlic
Bang on. 40 cloves planted, looking forward to August baby! It’s my birthday in August, not sure when the garlic’s going to grow.
01 Wicker
Without doubt the best use of my time so far in 2011; a worthy deviation from the demon booze and hopefully one to continue as the year progresses. So far I’ve built a coffee table, a contact lens holder, a lamp, a shoe tree, a door mat and a conservatory. Wicker is an abundant naturally occurring resource and one with finite creative possibilities.
