world

In A Valley of Cranes

Hello, good afternoon, and welcome. My name's Akira The Don. I live beneath the shadow of the London Olympic Development Grounds, in a valley of cranes, and I make pop music. Sometimes I draw things, like that lil' dude up top there. How are you today?

Excellent. Well, I am dandy, thank you. My bosom is heaving and I feel sick after another punishing gym workout and subsequent bike journey, fraught with danger. A bus forced me off the road and into the path of a raving psychotic teenage girl armed with a souped-up pram and a baby. She made to run me down, I made a terrifying arc, swerved with Magnificent Panache and No Brakes, and failed to kill, or be killed. She looked like she was swearing, and I rode off into the distance, dust billowing behind me like a wedding train. I was listening to The Dream's new album in my headphones. The guy basically does 12 part harmony contempi-R'n'B  over dirty south beats and arpeggios. He croons of nothing but acquiring and dissacquiring women, yet he puts such heart and passion into every performance, I can't help but be suckered into the whole experience. It is a thing of wonder and majesty to mine ears, so help me Sweet Baby Jesus.

Speaking of which, I went to the cinema with my fine-ass woman last night and acquiesced to her desires to watch Romantic French Nonsense, and I rather enjoyed that as well, even if the main character was a stupendous douche out of an annoying old car advert, and the soundtrack was rubbish. We tried Revels in the popcorn this time, and that worked rather splendidly also. Oh, sweet Baby Iesu And The Orphans, I love The Cinema. Of all of 21st Western Society's Trappings, The Cinema is my favourite. That or The Shower. I would be forlorn to have to live in a world without either.

Did I mention we have a car now? It is a lovely big ole blue Saab, which I belive to be Norweigan or something bike that. It is a vast, boat of a thing, that one doesn't so much seem to drive, rather aim in some direction or other and let it go... not that I know anything about driving, as I can't. But I shall learn! You watch.

The car was a gift from my girl's pops this Sunday. She was, as I may have mentioned, doing that Race For Life in Brighton with her big sister, in honour of her little sister, who got cancer last year (she got rid of it too, all praises due). And my girl actually ran the thing, 5k in total, as opposed to a good 90% of the 2000 plus attendees, who walked! Not that there's anything wrong with walking. I  am great at walking, but if I run for more than 8 minutes I get a stitch. And this particular course was half Extreme Hill, so I was bloody impressed, let me tell you.

Back here I discover that ATD24 is going down very well indeed. I am so thrilled you like it. I am so thrilled I like it! It could have gone either way once the dust had settled and the ringing in my ears had subsided. Happily, it is bloody classy, and I want it on LP. Of all the stuff I've done, I think this is most suited to being on a 12" slab of vinyl. Anyway, as with many of my projects this year I intent to focus in on a handful of the tracks on here - maybe even comp together videos for them from the footage - and I'd love to hear what songs you think should get that attention. If you haven't already, go grab the CD quality track separated bundle which went up yesterday and is - f0r now - free of charge.

And tune into the Doncast this afternoon! I will be talking about ATD24, amongst other things, and taking your questions, which you can leave in the comments here, or send them via email if you like.

Finally, I will be performing at the 12 Bar Club in Denmark Street, London, a week on Friday. I have no idea what I will be doing, as my band are on a filming job, so I need to come up with something. Maybe an acoustic set. Or just me and a drum machine. Or I could get a sea shanty troupe and do everything acapella. What do you reckon?

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.

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.