The Second Golden Age Of The Internet

Yesterday the skies opened up over London like a slashed belly and obnoxiously ushered in Autumn, as if we were under any illusions what time it was. I happened to be out of Don Studios on a bicycle at the time (I say "a" and not "my" as mine got a puncture so I rode my wife's, which is half the weight and has goddamn suspension), visiting my little brother Zef on Brick Lane, where he'd been for a job interview. Zef, after years of happy playtime at University in Falmouth, is finally being forced into the so-called Real World, where he must support his Italo Disco-loving ass with Real Work.

Luckily, his cheeky Ceefax recollecting Zeefax CV went mini-viral the other week, so he's not short of offers from big London design companies that want to mine his talents and take all his ideas for their own, in exchange for monthly transfers of digital of currency, which the young man will swiftly pass on to landlords and supermarkets and pubs.

Zef and I met in the Owl and The Pussycat, which, a decade ago, was my local. I was an editor at PlayLouder.com (R.I.P.), Europe's second biggest music website at the time, and earning 20p a word to write eight thousand world long articles about the ODB's criminal history and suchlike. It was the golden age of the internet, when seemingly anyone with a modem and a basic grasp of HTML could convince rich fools to write them crisp, rectangular checks with many zeroes on them, which would swiftly be banked and passed on to excitable and aspirational young fiends like myself. They said we were the New Rockstars, and we ran amok on Brick Lane with bottles of whiskey and liquid acid, causing terrible havoc and getting in everybody's faces with little cassette recorders all in the name of "content".

Now they tell me the only people making money out of the internet are in advertising and marketing, and young graphic designers like my little brother Zef are the New Rockstars, but I'm doing fine thank you (why not buy yourself a Living In The Future Hat or a Swag Bag?), and am proud of my little brother, who started his journey with me on the Drinking Song video early in the last decade, and whose future looks brighter than the light at the end of the tunnel, which is definitely sunshine and certainly not a train, no matter wat you doom mongers say.

2012 is about a consciousness shift and an evolution of humanity, not the end of the world. That and the staged alien invasion at the Olympic Games, obviously. It will usher in The Second Golden Age Of The Internet, signalling the death of web 2.0 homogeny, and a new era of creativity. There has not been a genuinely distinct new musical genre since hip-hop (can you think of one?). Since the birth of the internet culture has merely reprocessed, regurgitated, rehashed and remixed all the culture that came before. There are many reasons for this, and Zef and I have both been as guilty of this as anyone, but all this is going to change. New forms are on the horizon. I can't wait.

"You'd have to a crazy absynth swigging weirdo to create something genuinely new," lamented Zef over a pint yesterday. "Maybe we need new drugs. Has anyone ever made anything good on Meth?"

"Nope", I said. "Drugs have been having the same problems as culture. They're all just increasingly chemical, poisonous and derivative takes on existing drugs. There hasn't been a genuinely new drug since ecstasy."

"I wanna work for Jedward," said Zef. "If there's anything to take from this meeting its that I love Jedward. I think that we can all learn something from Jedward."

Indeed.

In other news, Pixel was round last night. We recorded some Manga Music for The Manga Mixtape. It's an amazing, vast, epic record, and instantly one of my favorites. I played Pixel some of the songs. He was impressed.

"Manga Muzic on the way from @akirathedon real soon," he tweeted. "From what I've heard, shit in bananas. #sheesh"

I am assuming he meant to say "is". Ether that or the music is so good he advises we all shit in some bananas. I've heard worse ideas, if I'm honest.