Mary Turner Needs Your Help!

My friend and yours, Miss Mary Turner has asked me to ask YOU for help in deciding what song to sing at her Pop Idol-styled audition this weekend.

The audition is for “a pop project”. Mary has to sing a song acapella.

Tag line, says Mary: “Cool, Sassy, Poppy”.

“It can’t be Girls Aloud or anything, singing a capella so need a song with a melody, not one where when production and harmonies are taken away it’s dull, could be a fast tune slowed down ie ‘Hey Ya’ Outkast. Preferably a fairly familiar tune yet original ie Leonard Cohen ‘Bird on the Wire’ [sic] and needs to have some range but not too much as with nerves don’t want to be fretting about high notes. Audition on Sat so got to be easy to learn if i don’t already know it. Thinking there must be some good forgotten Britpop tunes, not ‘Something Chnaged’ as already sung that.” Read more…

Thieving Acapellas Out Now!


Due to popular demand (whoo! I get to say “due to popular demand!”) I have made the acapellas for the Thieving mixtape available to download.

A few are missing as I haven’t got the files anymore. So! The Thieving Acapellas tracklisting:

1. Thieving
2. Click Clack Blam ft. Pixel
3. Thanks For All The AIDS ft. The Women
4. BOOM! (Smash Stuff) ft Why Lout?
5. Werewolves!
6. Back In The Day (Remix) ft. Jack Nimble, Narstie, Marvin & Shizzio
7. The Music Of The Spheres ft. Mary Turner
8. Dear Baby (Cut You In The Face)
9. Oobie Doo ft. Mary Turner & Marvin
10. Jesus!
11. Gitmo ft. Narstie
12. Giro
13. Riot Going On ft Dego Brown
14. Now Then
15. Tomorrow ft Madison
16. Oh! (What A Glorious Thing) ft Bashy
17. To The Tongue Tied ft Mary Turner

17 Potential Bootleg Smashes! Whoee! Yours for £4.50. Awesome.


Thieving: Out NOW on MP£, CD and T Shirt!

OK! Don Studios IV is set up, the internet is working, and THIEVING IS OUT NOW ON CD, MP3 and T Shirt!

Preorderers will (mostly, stupid Canadian post) know this already. They all agree it is great! How great? Just listen to this song called
GIRO!

Ace huh? Yes indeed. Zef and I are making a video for that. ANYWAY! Thieving has 21 songs on it, and they’re all GRAYTE. Either brand new, or new versions of older songs, the tracklisting goes a little suttink like this:

1. Thieving
2. Click Clack Blam ft. Pixel
3. Thanks For All The AIDS ft. The Women
4. BOOM! (Remix) ft. Lethal Bizzle & Narstie
5. Werewolves!
6. Back In The Day (Remix) ft. Jack Nimble, Narstie, Marvin & Shizzio
7. The Music Of The Spheres ft. Mary Turner
8. Can’t Go To Sleep
9. Dear Baby (Cut You In The Face)
10. Oobie Doo ft. Mary Turner & Marvin
11. Unlearning
12. Jesus!
13. Gitmo ft. Narstie
14. Giro
15. Riot Going On ft Dego Brown
16. Now Then
17. Tomorrow ft Madison
18. The Tree
19. Oh! (What A Glorious Thing) ft Bashy
20. To The Tongue Tied ft Mary Turner
21. Y R U So Layzee

Laffs! Sobs! Special guest stars aplenty! Yes indeed. You can get it on luxury 4 page booklet full colour doolah CD for £5 plus postage, or on CD Quality 320kbps MP3 for £4.75, no postage.

MP3 bundle comes with printable artwork and a bonus track called MOVING! Whoo!

You can a T shirt for £15 plus postage. OR a CD and a T shirt for £17 plus postage (wow, DISCOUNT!) or an MP3 and T shirt for £16.50 plus postage (EVEN MORE WOW DISCOUNT!)

We take all major credit and debit cards, via Paypal which does not require a Paypal account and we ship WORLDWIDE! (Even Canada, although their postal system is a little slow)

MAKE YOUR CHOICE!

CD - £5

MP3 - £4.75

CD & T - £17 - Comes In Mens and Womens Sizes

Size

MP3 & T - £16.50 - Comes In Mens and Womens Sizes

Size

Just A T - £15 - Comes In Mens and Womens Sizes

Size

GOOD NEWS/BAD NEWS

GOOD NEWS for 50 Cent!

From Playlouder:

The mother of 50 Cent’s angelic little cherub, AKA male child, has LOST her GREEDY battle to STEAL all of his MONEY ($$$$$$). She just gets A BIT. Relatively.

The woman, one Shaniqua Tomkins recently decided that getting $20,000 a month “child support” was inadequate, so she took him to court demanding $50,000. Prolly cos she heard about that Vitamin water payout. Or that song where he said “have a baby by me baby/ be a millionaire / I write the check before the baby comes/ who the fuck cares?”

The courts said he had to pay her $25,000 while the trial did its thing. Crazy!

Anyway. The greedy broad FAILED to extort 50 C for 50 gs, and a ruling was handed down saying her payments were to be CUT to $6,700 a month! DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMN! She is pissed you know. Things is, that is a lot of money, especially in America, which is practically a third world country these days.

I mean. That’s like, almost as much as a doctor gets.

“My client and I are very happy with the ruling,” said 50’s lawyer, Brett Kimmel, who is going to having a LOT of rappers calling him this week, I bet you 50 gs.

BAD NEWS for you and I!

From my CD pressing people:

“We are looking to ship on Tuesday for a Thursday delivery, there were some printing hold ups but we are now sorted. I hope that this is ok with you.”

Waste! I’m a try hurry them up. Or get a car on Tuesday and go pick them up myself or something.

Hey! Mary Turner, who is featured quite a bit on Thieving, is previewing a couple of her-featuring tracks over on her MySpace. Check them out.

When you’ve done that, watch this highly entertaining interview with my man of the moment, Rick Ross. Weed smokers! Check his tips for evading airport security and them fuckin’ beagles!

November Spawned a Moz Furore

From PlayLouder:

Morrissey Fights Back!
Delicious diatribe against the NME
‘Morrissey Fights Back!’ by luke.turner
04 Dec 2007

Morrissey has issued a delightfully written statement responding to the current hoo-ha over last week’s NME cover feature, in which he attempts to give his side of the interview, and has a pop at what he sees as the decline of the magazine. He doesn’t exactly address all the accusations levelled at him, but it’s a terrific read anyway, which I’ve reprinted in full below for your delectation and delight:

“I grew up a chanting believer in the New Musical Express. Last week however, I was the victim of the magazine’s agenda to cook up a sensational story.

On Friday of last week I issued writs against the NME (New Musical Express) and its editor Conor McNicholas as I believe they have deliberately tried to characterise me as a racist in a recent interview I gave them in order to boost their dwindling circulation.

I abhor racism and oppression or cruelty of any kind and will not let this pass without being absolutely clear and emphatic with regard to what my position is.

Racism is beyond common sense and I believe it has no place in our society.

To anyone who has shown or felt any interest in my music in recent times, you know my feelings on the subject and I am writing this to apologize unreservedly for granting an interview to the NME. I had no reason whatsoever to assume that they could be anything other than devious, truculent and unreliable. In the event, they have proven to be all three.

The NME have, in the past, offered me their “Godlike Genius Award” and I had politely refused. With the Tim Jonze inteview, the Award was offered once again, this time with the added request that I headline their forthcoming awards concert at the O2 Arena, and once again I declined it. This is nothing personal against the NME, although the distressing article would suggest the editor took it as such. My own view is that award ceremonies in pop music are dreadful to witness and are simply away of the industry warning the artist “see how much you need us” - and, yes, the ‘new’ NME is very much integrated into the industry, whereas, deep in the magazine’s empirical history, the New Musical Express was a propelling force that answered to no one. It led the way by the quality of its writers - Paul Morley, Julie Burchill, Paul du Noyer, Charles Shaar Murray, Nick Kent, Ian Penman, Miles - who would write more words than the articles demanded, and whose views saved some of us, and who pulled us all away from the electrifying boredom of everything and anything that represented the industry. As a consequence the chanting believers of the NME could not bear to miss a single issue; the torrential fluency of its writers left almost no space between words, and the NME became a culture in itself, whereas Melody Maker or Sounds just didn’t.

Into the 90s, the NME’s discernment and polish became faded nobility, and there it died - but better dead than worn away. The wit imitated by the 90s understudies of Morley and Burchill assumed nastiness to be greatness, and were thus rewarded. But nastiness isn’t wit and no writers from the 90s NME survive. Even with sarcasm, irony and innuendo there is an art, of sorts. Now deep in the bosom of time, it is the greatness of the NME’s history on which the ‘new’ NME assumes its relevance.

It is on the backs of writers such as Morley, Burchill, Kent and Shaar Murray that the ‘new’ NME hitches its mule-cart. But the stalled views of the ‘new’ NME sag, and readers have been driven away by a magazine with no insides. The narrow cast of repeated subjects sets off the agony, a mesmerizing mess of very brief and dispassionate articles unable to make thought evolve; a marooned editor who holds the divine right to censor any views that clash with his own.

The editorial treatment given to my present interview with the ‘new’ NME is the latest variation on an old theme, but like a pre-dawn rampage, the effects of the interview have been meticulously considered with obvious intentions. It is true that the magazine is ailing badly in the marketplace, but Conor doesn’t understand how the relentless stream of “cheers mate, got pissed last night, ha ha” interviews that clutter every single issue of the ‘new’ NME are simply not interesting to those of us who have no trouble standing upright. Strangely enough, my own name is the only one featured in the ‘new’ NME that links their present with the NME’s distant past, therefore a Morrissey interview is an ideal opportunity with which to play the editorial naughtiness game.

This, regrettably, is what has taken place with this most recent interview, which, it need hardly be said, bears no relation in print to the fleshly conversation that took place.

I do not mean to be rude to Tim Jonze, but when I first caught sight of him I assumed that someone had brought their child along to the interview. The runny nose told the whole story. Conor had assured that Tim was their best writer. Talking behind his hands and in endless fidget, Tim accepted every answer I gave him with a schoolgirl giggle, and repeatedly asked me if I was shocked at how little he actually knew about music. I told him that, yes, I was shocked. It was difficult for me to believe that the best writer from the “new” NME had never heard of the song ‘Drive-in Saturday’; I explained that it was by David Bowie, and Tim replied “oh, I don’t know anything about David Bowie.” I wondered how it could be so - how the quality of music journalism in England could have fallen so low that the prime ‘new’ NME writer knew nothing of David Bowie, an artist to whom most relevant British artists are indebted, and one who singlehandedly changed British culture - musically and otherwise.

Tim’s line of questioning advanced with: “What about politics, then … the state of the world?” which, I was forced to assume, was a well-thought-out question. It was from here that the issue of immigration - but not racism - arose.

Me: “If you walk down Knightsbridge you’ll be hard-pressed to hear anyone speaking English.”
Tim: “I don’t think that’s true. You’re beginning to sound like my parents.”
Me: “Well, when did you last walk down Knightsbridge?”
Tim: “Um… Knightsbridge… is that where Harrods is?”

So, Tim was prepared to attack and argue the point without even being clear about where Knightsbridge actually is! The ‘new’ NME strikes again. Oh dear, I thought, not again. I chose to mention Knightsbridge because it had always struck me as one of the most stiffly British spots in London. I am sorry Tim, but you are not yet ready to interview anyone responsibly.

When my comments are printed in the ‘new’ NME they are butchered, redesigned, reordered, chopped, snipped and split in order to make me seem racist and unreasonable. Tim had told me about his friend who did not like the 1987 song ‘Bengali in Platforms’ because the friend had thought the song attacked him on a personal level. I explained to Tim that the song was not about his friend. In print, the ‘new’ NME do not explain this, but attempt to multiply the horror of Tim’s friend by attributing “these people” and “those people” quotes to me - terms I would never use, but are useful to the ‘new’ NME in their Morrissey-is-racist campaign because these terms are only used by people who are cold and indifferent and Thatcherite. All of the people I spoke to Tim about in the interview who are heroes to me and who are Middle Eastern or of other ethnic back grounds were of no interest to either Tim or Conor. Clearly, Tim had been briefed and his agenda was to cook up a sensational story that would give life to the ‘new’ NME as a must-read national if not global shock-horror story. Recalling how Tim asked me to sign some CD covers, I do not blame him entirely.

If Conor can provoke bureaucratic outrage with this Morrissey interview, then he can whip up support for his righteous position as the morally-bound and armoured editor of his protected readership - even though, by remodelling my interview into a multiple horror, Conor has accidentally exposed himself as deceitful, malicious, intolerant and Morrissey-ist - all the ists and isms that he claims to oppose. Uniquely deprived of wisdom, Conor would be repulsed by my vast collection of world cinema films, by my adoration of James Baldwin, my love of Middle Eastern tunings, Kazem al-Saher, Lior Ashkenazi, Maya Angelou, Toni Morrison, and he would be repulsed to recall a quote as printed in his magazine in or around August of this year wherein I said that my ambition was to play concerts in Iran.

My heart sank as Tim Jonze let slip the tell-all editorial directive behind this interview: “it’s Conor’s view that Morrissey thinks black people are OK … but he wouldn’t want one living next door to him.” It was then that I realized the full extent of the setup, and I felt like Bob Hoskins in the final frame of The Long Good Friday as he sits in the back of the wrong getaway car realizing the extent of the conspiratorial slime that now trapped him.

During the interview Tim asked if I would support the Love Music Hate Racism campaign that the NME had just written about and my immediate response was a yes. I had shown my support previously by going to one of their first benefit gigs a few years ago and had met some of their organizers as well - as having signed their statement. Following the interview I asked my manager to get in touch with the NME and to pledge my further support to the campaign as I wanted there to be no ambiguity on where I stood on the subject. This was done in a clear and direct email to Conor McNicholas on the 5th of November which went ignored and last week we found out that it had never even been presented to anyone at the campaign as that would obviously not have suited what we now know to be the NME’s agenda. I am pleased to say that we have now had direct dialogue with Love Music Hate Racism and all of our UK tour advertising in 2008 will carry their logo. We will also be providing space in the venues for them to voice and spread their important message, which I endorse.

Who’s to say what you should or shouldn’t do? The magazine’s publishers, IPC have appointed Conor as the editor of the ‘new’ NME, and there he remains, ready to drag them into expensive legal battles such as the one they now face with me due to Conor’s personal need to mis-state, misreport, misquote, misinterpret, falsify, and incite the bloodthirsty. Here is proof that the ‘new’ NME will twist and pervert the views of any singer or musician who’d dare step into the interview ring. To such artists, I wish them well, but I would advise you to bring your lawyer along to the interview.

My own place, now and forevermore, shall not be with the ‘new’ NME - and how wrong my face even looks on its cover. Of this, I am eternally grateful.”

I Am Not Dead (Yeah!)

Big up all for last night, we played Cargo and we were great yes we were Mary Turner and Jeremy Allen and John Karborn and Me. Three new songs, two unrehearsed, smacked it. I like new songs. I have fucking tons. You watch.

I have a bad ass cold and a hangover today. I cycled from Shoreditch to Kentish town in the pissing rain. Wow that was some fucking experience. Boy oh boy. I was wet through. I’ve dried now. I am in a nice studio called Music Box. Part of the Moloko Empire. Mixing this song called I Am Not Dead (Yeah). I’m working with a safe Northern man called Joe. We have been discussing Bohemian Grove and Wiley. That’s what yiu do in studios, with engineers. In my experience anyway. Word to Matt Foster! Holla atcha boy!

So, Metal Hammer want me to do some writing for them. i like the idea of this. It will force me to listen to more metal records. Metal was my first love you know. I had a leather jacket with tassles on it for my tenth birthday. Or was it twelth? Anyway, my mam’ll know. That was a serious birthday present. My brothers were pissed off. The bank got broke on that thing. I wish it still fit me. I put studs in it and everything. Anyone remember HM Gear? I saved my paper round money for months to get a studded leather wristband and a choker with a skull on it. Word to Alice Cooper. POISON!

Serious.

AS ABOVE, SO BELOW

That’s all I gotta say regarding the last few weeks in newsprint.

Rah though! I can totally see!

Lalalala. I was blind…

OK. Be in London on Wednesday. It is important. Why?

Well.

You asked for it, so it is happening…

DONSQUAD LIVE!

Akira The Don, featuring
Bashy, Narstie, Lethal B, Marv The Marsh, Pixel, Jack Nimble, Morty, Mary Turner AND MORE!

Performing songs from the ATD mixtape series.
This Wednesday @ Curious Generation, 93 Feet East, Brick Lane, London..

Support from PINEY GIR + SUPER NASHWAN
7:30PM - 11:00PM. £7/5 www.ticketweb.co.uk (08700 600 100) / www.wegottickets.com

We are still taking requests. Kinda.

Fractals Pr 436

I got this email yesterda. Forsooth!

Richard from the Illinois here. I was brushing through my father’s record collection I found good old DEVO. The record also came with a “Limited Edition” 2 x 3 poster. It has DEVO facing the old traditionalists which contains a 60s style man with long blond hair and a mustache. He stands in a large mob of pink look-a-likes. It was kind of a neato thing because A: It’s like Clones, and B: It must be worth hundreds on ebay. So I sent you some pictures off my Olympus. Stare, show off, enjoy.

*Note: I wouldn’t dare sell it.*

That is fucking crazy! Or not, as my collective conciousness-receiving brethren know only too well. What was it Nas said? “No ideas original, there’s nothing new under the sun/ it ain’t what you do/ it’s how it’s done.”

Hey yo! I’m on Tom Robinson’s 6 Music show tonight, between 7 and 9. I’m taking my peoples Mary Turner and Joey “D” Driscol with me, it is gonna be UNIQUE. Plus, we’re debuting my Christmas Number One. Be here then.

The Day After

Well. That. Is. That.

The tour is dead.

Long live the tour!

The final night was a fukken blast - flowers in the dressing room, three weeks worth of whiskey coming to a head on the final rip through of Boom. Friends old and new. A thing of beauty, killed, so that the next creature could be born.

Heartfelt thanks to The Women: Son Of King Rebel and Mary Turner, you were both brilliant throughout the whole thing, without you I know not what. And a special thank you to the enigmatic Daniel Bristus, who didn’t crash once, drove us around the country, kept us together, and put up with our Special Ways. I was so sad it was all over, and so reticent to drive home last night, I had a drunken rage at the poor boy, which is supposed to be Jeremy’s job. What an emotional rotter I am!

Of course, biggest thanks go to all of you wonderful people who came down to the shows and sang and danced and laughed at my terrible jokes. I love you one and all, and can’t wait to see you again.

Look out for photos, video footage, etc over the coming weeks. If any of you lot recorded anything, send it in, I am making a DVD innit. History will not forget the Akira The Don and The Women tour 2006!

PAX!

London Can You Wait…

Oh, how we love to play the Cardiff Barfly. The soundman is such a G he wears sunglasses in doors because hasn’t slept for a month and makes stuff so loud even deaf ole me can feel it in his ass. Always there are the ingredients for a fine sandwitch on the bar. Always there is a room full of bright, beautiful, bouncing pobl. I go nuts.

Evils supported last night, and played ear shredding post-house from inside a wendy house. He was ace. I played some Chamillionaire and some Billy Joel. Then we did a searlingly visceral gig, in front of friends old and new, and afterwards we were reunited in inebriacy with Martin and Mary and The Goblins and my people B and Wee James who I aint seen in YEARS… Etc am byth. A wonderful night, there will be recorded proof online soon, I am told.

We are on our way to London now, to tear Madamme Jo Jos anew batty hole. Will you join us?

Hurrah!

In case you are unsure, read ye a bit of Dr Adam Walton’s review of the Wrexham show. Forsooth:

This was the best I had seen Akira. Admittedly, it’s only the third time, but each time he gets markedly better. His delivery was sharp and musical. The chemistry between him, Jeres and Mary is so unaffected… in fact, for someone who presents himself in a cartoon fashion - whether via the illustrations on his website, in his videos, or via the peroxide on his bonce - there isn’t an iota of artifice about Akira or his colleagues. They’re the most genuine musicians and orators I I have met. Because they’re not burdened by any need to be cool, or adhere to anyone else’s notions of what might be cool, they fly, they dizzy, they entertain, they amuse and they provoke…
There is an intoxocating confidence about their demeanour and the songs.
Back in the Day was restored to its Proustian, heart-strumming glory. Thanks For All the AIDS made us think and laugh and Oh! provoked a minor bout of dancing.
A man in an Akira t-shirt was pulled onto the stage and Akira placed him on a little stand.
“The world’s smallest catwalk,” said Jeres, and we all laughed.
Then, far too shortly, they were gone. It’s a good strategy to leave us wanting more. I believe that Adam, in the past, has had a tendency to perform whenever anyone was willing to give the organ grinder a ha’penny.
Now you know that it’s he who is thoroughly in control.
Short note to say that Jeres’ solo in Oh! was marvellous and that Mary Turner wiped Winter’s dull, cold ache of forboding and gloom away with her mere presence. When she sang, heaven moved that little bit closer to earth, and that’s one mighty trick if you know how to do it.

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