To you

February 4th, 2011

Today

do

what tomorrow’s

you

wanted yesterday’s

you

to do

Eight minutes

January 18th, 2011

eightminutes-banner-small

Eight minutes is the time it takes for the sun to reach the earth.

Diesel Prairie

January 4th, 2011

diesel-prairie

Finished a new instrumental track over the holidays. I started on this not long after visiting a King Shiloh Sound System session last month, so there’s a lot of deep bass in the track.

Q: All I hear is a bottomless, sucking void?!

A: The bottomless, sucking void you’re hearing, that is where the bass should be, and you need better speakers.

Oh – and happy new year!

The devils playthings

April 12th, 2010
http://awacs.dhs.org/wp-content/uploads/2010/04/davidshanden.flv

Mr. Ambassador Spring Day Dub

March 24th, 2010

Surinam sunset

Rapid rubadub riffs on a lazy Sunday afternoon

..//..IS-SA SPRING DAY DUB..//..

come… and don’t forget your sunglasses

and your cocktail glasses

and your sexy ambassador asses

Balkenende IV

February 20th, 2010

balk1-edit

The poet Cerberus Platvis responds to the fall of the Balkenende IV administration:

Balkenende! Kikkerkoker extraordinaire! Een meester in slepend leven, slapend waken, krakend voegen. De kreupele bloei van een vertrapt gewas, een monsterlijke vent, klevend aan de macht als een druppel teer, een traag en ondoorzichtig lekkend vat. De sleetse koning van het vermoeide land, die zijn luizig schort een hermelijnen pels waant.

Meedogenloos en onvervroren marst hij met geheven hoofd voort door van armoe grijsgeslagen straten, krassend raspt zijn roestig zwaard over de klinkers, luider dan het verzwakt kindergehuil. Een knobbelig gevolg gebochelden hobbelt winden latend achter hem aan, terwijl de ratten hun neusjes uit de riolen steken waar hij passeert. Want al wat hij aanraakt komt tot bederf en verrotting, deze koning stront, deze graatloze barbeel, deze gierspuitende wanminister. Ga, ga heen, ga ver weg en keer nóóit meer terug.

All four Balkenende administrations have disintegrated before completing their full term.

Koud

January 19th, 2010

IMG 1693-crop3

OUT with the COLD, IN with the NEW!

Preview of latest track recorded @ De Zwarte Molen

Old school breaks and acid snakes – this what we mean by rave

Aangenaam

December 31st, 2009

zw

Prrrrreeeeeview of latest track recorded @ De Zwarte Molen.

PS: Yes there’s still work to do on the mix! Will be all fixed up before release – heus.

The rivers of March

December 11th, 2009

In 2007, I was listening to Spanish radio RNE3 while driving through Spain last week. I was on my way home from Gibraltar, through Andalusia and Valencia, across the Sierra Nevada, along the Costa del Sol and the Costa Blanca. Mountains on my left, the sea on my right, the sun in my eyes. Then this tune came on.

I didn’t think much of it at first. It sounded like just another bit of smooth jazz elevator music. But then it wasn’t. The words drifted like waves in the ocean, constantly coming together and falling apart, sung in a voice not quite happy and not quite sad. It was as if the words sung themselves. And suddenly I could see. I could see the musicians, waiting, counting, nodding to the rhythm within, smiling, smoking, then taking their instruments and letting the music flow, as they had done so many times, and the tune opened up, like a crack in the sky. The music flowed out of the radio like thick creamy milk out of a cow.

I tried to catch the name of the performer or the song, but couldn’t understand any of the Spanish babble. So I wrote down as much of the lyrics as I could without driving the car off a cliff. That was just four words: “Stone”, “Stick”, “Riverbank” and “March”.

What are the odds? I didn’t expect to ever find the song. But it turns out to be a popular Brazilian tune called “The Waters of March”, written by Antonio Carlos “Tom” Jobim, and I found a few versions on YouTube.

The one I had heard is probably this version, in English, sung by Luciano Souza (the video seems to be a homemade holiday video):

http://youtube.com/watch?v=x_PesTqUxhs

Then I also found a version in the original Portuguese, by Elis Regina – you can see her above. Just look at her face!!

Passoaland

October 22nd, 2009

passoa

The black limousine glides down the gently sloping hill;

the road a grey ribbon through endless fields of sunburnt grass.

In the distance a building rises from the vast plains.

A house white as snow, shimmering like a cold flame on a wizard’s hand.

The ambassador’s wife smiles as she welcomes the guests.

Old friends lock in tight embrace. Wrinkled lips kiss wrinkled faces.

Alcohol and aftershave.

Diplomats, murderers, renegades.

VISIT PASSOALAND