Luke just wrote, in the form of a text message: "Haha, we just saw a 20 foot effigy of Charles Clarke being dragged of to be burned. x"
Me, I've been locked down in the Townhouse Studios, Shepherd's Bush, with James and Emile - since 1ish - making musics. MUSICS! We had 20 odd kids come in and sing the hook of Back In The Day and that was awesome. I waved my pen at them. I got them to power-croon. They were all like, "who's James Brown?" One knew. The smallest. 6? Something. He said, "GEDDUP!" And he was right. Then they were all, "what's Beach Boys?" Then, "what's crooning?"
It was amazing. Some of those kids could rule the world. They were amazing. There was this one little dude, all of three and a half foot, full of love and joy, robot dancing and beatboxing and rapping in a purple velour Snoop Dogg tracksuit. These kids killed it. I didn't have to say anything. They ruled.
Jeres is in right now, lacing this intenselty lush guitar solo.
I've been fucking with V on this one. Serious! Makes you well. 100%! All Natur El. Emile isn't feeling the celery. Fuck that. Raw like sushi. And!
Today I am mad handsome. Serious! I love it when that happens. I don't know why it does. I don't control that shit. I mean, I have been rocking water. Helps. On and off with the scissors. On. Off. Up. Down. Aggadabosh.
I am meant to do an Undercover cover shoot at midday tomorrow. But I am also meant to be in the studio. Priorities, getme?
Sometimes it is the mind, sometimes it is the ass. I strive for harmony.
This tune, is mind, and ass. I will make sense of this all yet.