That’s me, that is. Minus the mansion. A lot of you know about the state of my inbox. The thing runs deep as the abyss. Anyway. I’ve spent all afternoon answering emails, going back as far as ‘06. It’s been pretty emotional, swear down. The stuff you go through. Wow.
So, some sixty something of you will be getting replies today. I think a letters page is probably due sometime soon.
Behold! My interview with Immortal technique for The Quietus!
Rapper Immortal Technique Swaps The Mean Streats Of Harlem For Afghanistan
Adam Narkiewicz, August 20th, 2008 18:21
We live in an atmosphere of unprecedented mistrust. Prize winning sportsmen take performance enhancing drugs. Politicians launch wars based on proven fabrication. Your favourite rappers keep getting outed as frauds. Even your mother’s nails are fake. Times like this, we start to lose hope. Times like this, we need a politically aware, righteously angry emcee who walks it like he talks it.
I hope it hasn’t been too traumatic without me. It freaked me the hell out, I can tell you.
Anyway. Our server fell over, so we’re migrating to a new one. We’ll be here, possibly with interruptions. Normal service back on track as soon as possible, isn’t it.
Anyway, the break allowed me time to do a bit more song writing, so the ATD16 concept has switched up a little - alongside a gang of new versions of existing rap songs, freestyles and bootlegs, there’ll be a bunch of brand new all OG ATD compositions. I realise it’s mean to make you wait for LP2 for some true new shit. Certain parties may be aghast at this decision, but so it is. You lot have been very patient. Its not your fault the music industry is in ruins and financing a huge, panoramic blockbuster of an album is hard. is it?
The new mixtape from Akira The Don (yo!) drops September 5th.
Sixteen (16) brand new tracks, and some nuclear bootlegs.
The CD comes in a hand crafted, personalised sleeve - INSERT NAME Is The Don / YOUR MUM Is The Don / Amanda The Don, whatever you like.
A limited edition T Shirt is availiable also, THE DON screen printed and your personalised element hand painted by the aforementioned Akira (me).
Preorders come with a signed poster and comic strip. Maybe a badge too if you’re lucky.
PREORDER the CD now for £4.99
PREORDER the CD & T shirt for £16.99
The T is black with silver screen printage. If you’re after a T Shirt size not listed, chuck me an email before the end of August and I’ll suss it for you. There’s a spot in the order form for you to write what you want written before “The Don”. Apparently it’s not showing in some browsers - in that instance, email zillazillazilla at gmail dot com with your heat’s desire.
As ever, we take all major credit and debit cards, and we ship worldwide.
CHECK OUT!
The title track.
Stream: Akira The Don - The Don
Lyrics, download, clean version and acapella after the jump.
It’s being developed by Daredevil and Ghostrider director Mark Steven Johnson. Daredevil was the shittiest comic book movie I ever saw. I didn’t bother with Ghost Rider. Anyone see that?
Preacher, if you don’t know, was a comic book written by Garth Ennis about a Texan preacher literally trying to find God, who abandoned His creation because he was a pussy. He’s accompanied by, amongst others, a hard drinking Irish vampire who looks like Shane McGowan, and his shit kicking, marxman girl friend. Oh, and that guy up there, who tried to suicide himself ala Cobain. It’s ace. I read a bit of it when I was slumming in Liverpool for a bit as a teenager. Colin sent me a load of it recently and I’ve been really enjoying it.
I made a rare trip into town last night to see Ey La Martin Carr. People that know me will testify that I stay stuck indoors like hinges (geddit?!), but Ey La hardly ever plays and I am a big fan of his new songs (apart from one of them, which sounds like Th’ Bee-Tulllllz).
Anyway, it was OK. I got hassled by police and their dogs at Highbury tune station, not that I had anything on me. Most times I really, really hate police. Sorry if you’re a police. Maybe you’re a nice police. All the police I ever come across look at me like I am scum. They give me and my peoples no respect, and seem to actively enjoy bullying people and flexing their power, which we gave them. Man, they put me in a rotten mood most times, swear down.
I don’t hang onto rotten moods though. Plus I had my book on me (I’m back into the third act of Illuminatus!, word up Karl, I owe you a email I know!), and I am enjoying that shit deeply. Rah though, if it didn’t go and fuck it down on my head in an entirely biblical fashion as soon as I got out of the tunnels. Fuck this Summer almost as hard as last summer. What baffled me was where the hell everyone got their brellas from. It was sunny when I left the house, in a vest and tracksuit, then I surface at Oxford Circus amidst a fuckin’ monsoon, and everyone’s all brolleyed up. I guess people that, like, leave the house daily are in tune with this sort of shit. Not me.
Anyway. I linked with hotpants and we got down the Social in time to catch Martin Carr La Superstar and Sweary Preggers Mary’s set.Which was grayte, especially the song Mary sings on her own about how shit it is of Martin to bring her “all this rain” (church!) and Running, which is my favourite song at the moment. Check a stream of it out right now, you lucky monkey, I’m sure Martin won’t mind. Although he is kind of old, and old people don’t always get this inernet malarky, do they? Shit, who am I kidding? I’m fuckin’ old. Somebody drag me out back and shoot me.
Stream: Martin Carr - Running
Another nice thing about the night was seeing the homie Huw Stephens. Word to Huw Stephens! Weirdly, the headline act, who were called Cats In Paris and were pretty dope, especially when they were focusing on the violin, and whose bassist was gloriously stoned, anyway, their singer looks just like Huw Stephens, but not as handsome obviously, so there you fuckin’ go.
Lorry was out too. Usually its nice to see Lorry, but this time he was the bearer of bad news. This American TV show that was supposed to be using two of my songs and thus paying my rent and my sibling-debts got cancelled. SO LAME! I am going to have to get a job cleaning chimneys now or something.
Still. We had a nice pint afterwards. Mary and Hotpants talked about the Batman film, and me and Martin talked about the Batman comic. Martin knows his Batman. Martin knows Batmite, for fuck’s sake! Do you know Batmite? Saying that, Martin hadn’t read any of Grant Morrison’s recent run (check the blobblog for a look at the next ish), which is deliriously awesome, so he loses points there.
Hairwoman before, and after. She said she decided to grow her wig at art school. Let that be a warning to you.
Damn.
I was so groved-out by this story that I have resolved to get my shit shorn. Forthwith.
LINK: A grandmother from Kent who has not visited a hairdresser since she was at school has grown her hair to 5ft 7in (1.68m).
Damnation! That is longer than me! Hell, it’s longer than her. What is the point in having hair you trip over? Plus, hair is dead. How grove is that? 5 foot plus of DIRTY OLE DEAD STUFF hanging off of your head. Shit, within thirty seconds the mad ole sod informs us, “twice a year I do shampoo it.” Twice a year?! I am horrified! I have a ball of sick lurching about in my gut!
And yes, I know there are multiple wars on, but still.
