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DON VLOG 27/05/12: Akira The Don & Wade Crescent in LA!

http://youtu.be/ui5jtcLdtOs I'd packed my bag and was just about to hop in the cab to LAX when I realised I hadn't recorded a VLOG for you yet. GADZOOKES! Luckily I had my wife's Xperia that Fat Tony's friend's recently passed auntie saved the other day, so I recorded a quick bit of Californian vloggage for y'all, co-starring my dear friend and host Wade Xavier Crescent... and the most amazing soes the world has ever seen. They are literally the first item of clothing I have ever come across that i would gladly do an advert for, because they are so incredibly FLY. And superheroic. MY GOD THOSE THINGS!

Check back here tomorrow for a great big photo packed blog covering the final third of my US adventure, then get ready for an onslaught of video-based THUNDERCHRISTIANTY.

PAX!

 

Don Back To Cali

It was fifteen minutes into the domestic flight from San Francisco to LA that I remembered some kids gave me some weed and I'd put it in my bag and forgotten about it. I decided not to worry. What's the point? I drew some comics and investigated the magazines. It was only a short flight.

So short in fact, I didn't even get to read all of the crazy in fight shopping magazine, that sells ancient-ass things like Vinyl To CD converters for $400, skeleton gnomes and amazing creations like "The Travellers Bed Bug Thwarting Sleeping Cocoon", yours for a mere $79.99. It took longer to get out of the airport than it did to fly there. LA has little in the way of public transportation, so I got the "Shuttle" which is in fact a six seater taxi driven by a sardonic cabbie that takes multiple humans to their multiple destinations for a mere $25 each. Naturally I was last, which was excellent as I got a guided tour around the posher bits of LA, along with the most hilly and treacherous, narrated by a nice Jewish lady from Brooklyn, who informed me she could tell from looking at me that I was evidently a great musician, that I had a good energy, and that it is important to drive through cute areas as often as possible. "If your areas are cute, your life is better," she philosiphised, enthusiastically.

Eventually I was alone with the sardonic cabbie, who proceeded to tell me his life story, which involved a lot of child support payments and two years in jail waiting to be deported. Eventually he was not deported, but if he ever leaves the country he will not be allowed back in, and now resides "in a big hot prison forever, spending all my money on that fucking bitch."

He dropped me off outside Wade's place in Hollywood, where I was greeted by a very friendly and excited concierge, who had a similar life story, but a sunnier outlook on it. "Shit, I'm just happy to be here," he said. "Your buddy Wade is great people. It's exciting to see him doing his thing, you know? They have amazing parties here. Amazing girls. Just to be around that gives me hope, now I'm back in the game. It's a blessing, you know?"

Wade met me at the door of his vast and luxurious penthouse apartment wearing a baseball cap and a very serious tan, both signs of his thorough and enthusiastic Americanization. He made us meatballs and spinach, because he is still a proud half Swede, and filled me in on what he's been doing in the past 10 months, since he got his Visa. Mostly he's been running a successful and super trendy new nightclub, DJing, acquiring a tan, dating a parade of aspirational females, and getting into baseball caps.

I woke up to a somewhat homerian and inspirational 360% panoramic view of Los Angeles. Then Mocky came and picked me up, and took me on a tour of his new stomping ground. A former Berlin resident and underground scene captain along with Chilly Gonazles and Taylor Savy, Mocky recenty spawned, and relocated with his young family to the Golden Coast, for which he is its single most enthusiastic proponenrt. Mocky loves LA, he loves his new life in LA, and he was generous enough to share some of that with the visiting Don.

After a few entirely lovely hours spent munching on Tacos, sightseeing, smoking medical, and listening to the next Mocky LP - dystopian futuretronica spliced with a big wedge of TurboGFunk and Saskamodie's lush melodies and instrumentation - we sat around Mocky's kitchen table to write a song. Less than an hour later, we had written a song. BAM!

It's a Californian joy anthem, obviously. Lyrically it concerns my recent CA adventures, and the existential nature of putting oneself in the postion to experience Adventure. Mocky recorded me singing it over his FM radio instrumental into his phone, in the futuristic fashion. We're going to record it properly either tonight or tomorrow.

That night Wade took me on a tour of some of his hangouts, including the notorious Chateou Marmont, a beautiful and opulent castle upon the hill, that was populated only with chain smoking young ladies, as the men had all fled like rats when the electricity briefly went an hour before our arrival. A tall blonde female, excited by my similarly bleached mane insisted on having her photo taken with me. This happens quite a lot here. The photo thing and the tall thing. God knows what they feed them.

After that went went to Wade's joint, Smoke And Mirrors, which is a very beautiful and classy place with an atmosphere enforcing low ceiling and a goddamn PIANO. I sipped on bourbon and met all manner of interesting mofos, including some super safe anglo japanese half brothers, one of whom turned out to be local producer Rex Kudo, who shared a pair of expertly constructed medical sticks with the interloping british rap star, creating a nice trippy level of brain fluidity with which the young Don wrote some excellent raps in his wife's Sony Xperia.

Cultural Differences Observation #257: American yoghourt is upside down.

Yesterday Wade took me down Melrose, where I copped some very fly garms, and observed a wealth of cultural glory, like that Wild Things graffiti above, and this My Little Pony gallery.

Wade and I shared a milkshake. "There's nothing gay about two grown men sharing a milkshake is there?" enquired Wade. "No, it's maddeningly attractive," said Twitter.

Here's Wade doing some work. Wade's work outside the cub seems to involve wandering around in a wifebeater making excitable noises into a telephone and occasionally looking contemplative.

When the dark drew in we went for a very delicious and fulfilling Mexican (PINCHES TACOS!), then he DJed at his club and I danced in the DJ booth and wrote about three songs worth of raps. It was Model Night, wherein by some queer magic a disproportionate mass of attractive young womenfolk fill the place to capacity and throw themselves around excitedly to Wade's Kim Carnes and Snoop Dogg and James Brown records, while the roughly five menfolk that managed to get past security attempt to ply them with buckets of champagne.

Tonight I am told will be "more avante garde... some dudes in wigs and girls on rollerskates."

I am going to go see the homies Fat Tony and Tom Crus first, as Mr Tony just hot me on G Chat and invited me to this shindig they're playing tonight at the Broadway Bar. I will  wear my fly new hat. Look at my fly new hat! It is so choice. I also found the flyest shoes I have ever seen today. I am worried to take them back to London as everyone that sees them will commit immediate suicide out of sheer envy. But they are too beautiful to leave here, damnit.

Oh yeah, Wade and I constructed a desk this afternoon, like we used to back when we lived together and got all our stuff from the local Ikea... apart from the plants which we stole from rich neighbours under the dead of night. Such a manly feeling! Making a desk that is. Plant stealing was very fun and exciting though. We almost got caught one time. Oh god! One time we stole a stone owl, and put it on a plinth in the middle of the garden, then one day we woke up and it had make up on. We never did find out what the hell that was about, but we took it as a bad omen, and didn't linger much longer in that place. It was far too nice for our hedonistic young selves. The last song on Unkillable Thunderchrist is about that period of my life. I will dedicate it to our neighbours, who were surprisingly tolerant and forgiving.

WATCH: Mr Lacey - Laced Freestyle # 1

As you might have read, my ole pal Mr Lacey is back from his four year adventure in LA, the most of which he spent living in Compton. Yeah, that Compton. In the first of a new series of completely improvised LACED FREESTYLES, we get a little glimpse into what the hell happened.

I am proud to present these special moments in time to you, my beloved readerlistener, and I hope that you enjoy them as I do!

Mr Lacey makes his return to wax on the first joint from ATD25, which will drop TODAY.

YES!

HOORAY!

Oh, and let us know if there's any questions you have for Lacey that you want answered in freestyle when he's next in Don Studios (which will be very soon). HE IS THAT ABLE!

The Day That Supergrass Split Up!

Oh no! You guys! SUPERGRASS HAVE SPLIT!

What tragedy!

Now, true, I have not listened to a Supergrass album since their second one, In It For The Money, a dissapointingly serious affair after the punk rock exuberance of their awesome debut, I Should Coco. I nicked it from an Our Price in Redditch, I think, which says something about just how long ago it was that Supergrass released their second album. Indeed, it was that halycon summer of 1997, the year before Freeserve introduced the internets to the country and everything changed, forever.

That year I was in Redditch. We did a lot of hedge jumping to that Richard The Third joint. 10 years later me and Bizzle supported them at the Dublin Castle in Camden. Warners were considering signing me at the time, and me and my band came on in crazy ninja wrestling masks and scared them off.  I got everyone in the crowd to turn around and swear at Wade, then chastised them for doing something soc ruel just because someone told them to.

What a mean thing to do to an audience!

Anyway. Yesterday's post about Penmon prompted the following from Iwan Roberts on Facebook:

Waaaw i was working on the roof there not so long ago! A french woman lives there now!

I was like, "Really?! Ooh la la! How's the roof?"

Iwan Roberts was all like, "The roof = Not well! The atic sees more light then a ty gwydyr lol"

I was like, daaaaaamn!

There's some roof-wrecking French woman living in my old house!

That's eerie, bubba!

"Ty gwydyr," is Welsh for Green House, in case you were wondering.

So, those awesome Superhero Music T-shirts are packaged up and ready to fly. My packaging game went up a levl today, look forward to that. AM getting this ish down to a FINE ART. Shout out Adam Walton who played Fly Aready! from that Superhero Music on his BBC Radio Wales show last night! Blaow!

ORDER MP3 & T!

ORDER MP3!

SUPERHERO MUSIC

[sleeve id="8455"] WOOOO HOOO!

It is all but done!

I am giving it a once over now, then I'm gonna play it on the Doncast at 5pm GMT!

Then I am gonna do a final master tweak, render it and chop it and tag it and zip it and up it to preorderers. And finish the art. Then up the stream.

BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!

ATD10: Clones

I did this on the day of the 10th and the night/morning of the 11th on my laptop sat on Danny Saber's sofa up the Hollwood Hills while he played strings and watched baseball. 'Subterranean Homesick Blues' was made with my laptop and Danny's mike with Acid and Fruityloops. Represent! As ever, I think this is the best mixtape I've made. I hope you like it. Tracklisting: Akira The Don - Subterranean Homesick Blues Akira The Don ft. Tom Petty And Method Man - The Joint Akira The Don ft. Swiss - Rick Witter's Jackin' For Beats Bearman - Beer Bruza, Shizzle & Napper - Ave Some Of That Skepta & Jammer - Swag MC Burial Da Cream - Moving Remix Lioness & Bearman - South Of Thames Bruza - Pum Pum Riddim Bashy - Death Is Just A Page Away Akira The Don ft Leonard Cohen & Crazy Titch - Waiting For The Singalong Monsta - Once Upon A Time Crack Village - Crack The Whip Gonzales - Too Long Akira The Don ft Electronic & Mobb Deep - The Real Message Daminan Marley ft Black Thought - Pimpas Paradise King Geedorah - I Wonder Fat Lip - Joe's Turkey Bubba Sparxxx - Wonderful Carole King - Music The Goats - Tricks Of The Shade UGK - You Don't Know Ghostface - New York Akira The Don ft Pheonix, Biggie & PE - Emotional Heatwave Katie Melua - Nine Million Bycicles Towers Of London ft. Dizzee Rascal - ATD Dun Seen It All Akira The Don ft. Narstie, Solo & Spandau Ballet - Still Gold Akira The Don ft Bashy - CLONES (Mothboy Remix) Morrissey - I Like You

Zzz

So, I got some (ha!) sleep, and I listened to the noises Birddogg was making up here while I was down in New York, doing whatever it was I was doing in New York. Like, there's some ill stuff. But one in particular is just tremendous. it is mighty. It fills my heart. And prefectly fits so many of the raps I was writing in New York, tempom flow, everything. So, what I've done, is draw various raps, and bits of raps, together, to create this New York song that's been brewing all the time I've been here. It is best I get it out now, before I FORGET. Annoyingly, the necassary component is missing. So piss.

Bad: All the stuff I bought last week - food, drink, socks, weed - is gone. Mostly. I got a lot of Ritz crackers, peanut butter and macaroni. Good: There's a Death's Head Moth on my window. (See right) Bad: There is animal shit by my window. Good: The air outside is fresh and envigorating. Bad: The air in the top level of the house, in which I am supposed to be dwelling, is thick with the stink of animal and of animal excrement.

I went to turn on the sauna earlier, and nearly trod in cat shit. Or dog shit. It could be both. Whatever. It's like, wow, sauna! Oh, catshit. Wow! Oh. Wow! Oh. Etc. So, I wanted to go into town and get a job today, to pay for my ticket back to New York, but waited about for people to come with me rather than just doing it, and the end result is it's super late now, too late to get a job anywhere, and everyone's going into town to go out, save me, who must stay at home cos he has no ID (this is a worry), and it's too far to chance not being allowed in anywhere.

A ha!

So I should write more now. I wrote a bunch earlier. Phil is worrying that Amy has forotten his ass, as she went in her tiny car to take Cecelia and James over an hour ago. But she hasn't forgotten him. It's just miles from ShanGayKen to Woodstoock! A HA!

I just asked Spiky if he has a message for the world. He said, "spitroast!" So there you go.

Appologies

So, there were a bunch of updates and pictures and things, and they got wiped! Oh, the tragedy. So, a recap. On my last day on Rivington Street I saw a white thug in an open-top Hummer drive by blasting out 'I Want The One I Can't Have' and nodding along with a serious expression about his face.

Then we went.

Wade and I ended up on the coach, as there was no room in the van, or car. We got there early, and checked out the scene. The scene is small.

We don't actually live in Woodstock. We live in Shandaken, outside. Well, just outside. Half way up a mountain, hidden away by forest, amongst bears and chipmunks and what have you. In a big old dusty house full of weird porn and broken stuff, with brown water and giant ants. Like, there's a jacuzzi, but it doesn't seem to work. There is the biggest TV you've ever seen, but it's got a big black tear across the front and doesn't tune properly. It's a two hour walk to the nearest shop, whihc is a petrol station, and does a good line in biscuits. The local girl's got a lot of guns.

It is very lovely to look at up in Shandaken. Mountains covered in trees, mainly. Streams. Clouds so low you can jump up and punch them.

I miss Wade, who is back in London sorting out affairs. All my stuff is in boxes.

Lush

So I fell alseep on the sofa after 5, and was awakened gently by Super Phil at 6:20, and it transpired Bird left my bag with my passport in it at the venue last night. But Bird's got me another ID card, so we're outside waiting for Jeff to pick us up at 6:30. And at midday we're in LA, and soon after that we're in Interscope's offices,and I'm filling a bag with Nirvana, Guns N Roses, Gilbert And Sullivan, Dre, Peter Gabriel, Police and other such back catalogue. Jimmy Iovine has a signed letter from Tupac and a video console that won't switch on. And loads of ideas. A balcony. A lush view. LA is lush to look at, from these places of advantage. Like, later we visit Jeff and Trent's, and there's this fucking alien cat that loves me, and an incredible, incredible view, of this desolate wilderness spattered with money.

It was a lovely day.

But in the nighttime it is hard not to see that LA is awash with cunts. It is a sad and massive amount of cunts, and I am not sure whether it is sad because this is what the world did to them, or because this is what they do to the world, or because they are cunts, and you can see their faces rotting right in front of your eyes.

Rested

After a nice little rest, I am back in London with a pink pack of eyeballs on my case. That shit looked nice on IE, but fucked up Mozilla. I don't know what it was doing to Macs. So he will live to the right. Read a bunch of Hilaire Belloc's The History Of England Vol XI, From The First Invasion By The Romans To The Ascension Of King George The Fifth on the train. I now realise that we are living in an oligarchy. Well, a strange, new fangled sort of oligarchy masked as a democracy. With a bit of a monarchy. But it is an oligarchy, nonetheless.

This book was published in 1915, and, interestingly, predicted that Russia would do what America has. The author is also in favour of true aristocracy, and I can see his point.