generally disgruntled

Alright.
So now I'm mildy specifically disgruntled. Music not quite loud enough - FNM Jizzlobber, shit quality etc.
But I was going to dedicate to Gen Dist. and fuck you man. Don't reply to me. Don't be on the fucking internet or shit.
Fuck you.
I was going to write a glowing report of you in spite of that fact I hadn't got to read your awesome stuffs properly but you're still hanging around like the bad smell I fucking know you are.
The kind of bad smell that some woman would fucking suck up through her lady-bits or could infiltrate a whole bar in such a way people would take notice - in a 'good' way (or probably bad, but some could fucking adore).

I appreciate it, I DO, but you're something I'll never really get to because I'm only on line once in a while. MOTHERFUCKER you're worth a shit ton more than that.

I think that's all I can say. ffs fuck OFF. I love you.

Dun got my shit togethah

Hey there fuckoes [if anyone is indeed paying attention].
So I've been *relatively* sober lately... wow.
Been working on my youtube channel - youtube.com/user/unsoundsoundinfo
I got me a girly and all the things!

Yeah we never saw any of that coming. What a boring cunt I am becoming. I was reading my 'gin night post' and the aftermath. Some insane shit right there. Very unhealthy altogether, not that I regret a fucking second of it.
Not to go into detail, but I actually wouldn't be in the position I'm in now if not for that night.

Might be moving out of this crumby apartment, might even get a job. Maybe not, who knows? And even if I don't, I'm pretty content with how things are for the moment (yeah, not to tempt fate and suggest it will all fuck up in my face... *grimace face*).

To paraphrase Waits in 'Cigarettes and Coffee' - the best thing about 'quitting' is knowing you can have another one, so who knows?.. for old times' sake soon I might just get fucking sloshed and spend a night on here, reconnecting properly with all y'all and give you a good old dose of the good old PryON doing what I do best.

peace, bitches

P.S. Sorry about the popup ads, but I really can't be arsed finding out how to remove them, so CLICKEM! Not even sure where the account is or my login or how to get any money I definitely haven't made enough of, but click 'em anyway DO IT!

Giving something back.

I can't believe some of you morons still pay attention when I post. It's been well over a year since I started ranting here, and ten fucking MONTHS since I stopped posting with any regularity whatsoever, and yet a couple of you even take the time to comment if I post. Wow.

But I appreciate it you adorable motherfuckers. It wawrms mah bawls like a crack whore's mouth on a hot July night (guess what I'm doing / having done to me right now bitches?)

And so, I finally deliver to you a piece of recording I made. I only did it because a certain lecherous bitch who shall remain named Erika kept banging on about it to me*.

I even went to the fuse box to shut off the fridge to record this so you better fucking dig it fuckoes.

Oh look, I fucking embedded a video

*Don't tell anyone - I think it's supposed to be 'on the qt/dl/stfu about it', but we run a blog now at ushouldblogaboutit.blogger.com
Looks gay as hell right now because it's just thrown up there and I was feeling a six year old... I mean LIKE a six year old girl when I chose the colours.
That's where the 'inspiration' behind this recording came from sort of... actually I told her I'd had been singing the high pitched fucking chimpster version when she said 'you should blog about it'. Fuck it, flame me hard for this one muchachos.

Playing Out

Yeah, so I'm taking a break from six months or more of 'not having internet' and 'sucking cock for cans of  specialbrew' to conclude this horrendous pile of unreadable crap.


You're a dj, blah yadda watevs, you have your tunes - ready to play out. Play them in he right order. Surprise people but don't fuck them off. Stick to your plans but be prepared to completely change them and never EVER play a request unless a) you warily think it actually works better than your current idea and know where to go next or b) you have no fucking idea what to play next anyway - then scramble in desperation  for that record and make a new (idiot) friend.


Play them in the right order.


Look, don't plan your WHOLE SET you spanner. Sounds shit-hot to one person only. You.
...In your bedroom...
 NOT 50+ people in a social environment ffs. Their mood will change, and often according to your playlist. Your preciously prepped list might leave them wondering wtf is going on and where the night went so fucking STUPIT when you drop that 'genius' free jazz number that worked so well, alone, to you... alone... between Nick Cave and grinding techno.


At most have 'mini sets' you can switch up to suit the atmosphere. Other than that, play knowing what's next up and what might probably follow and two suitable directions you can go from there. (And know how to find all those musics - have them all ready and 'marked' as you go, in whatever way you see fit - vinyl dj's often prop certain records up in the box, at 45 degrees for example).
Point being, no matter how 'tailor made' your set is, it might tick your crowd off. You may have misread them before even knowing them. Or... their collective mood might change (some cunt might turn up with ketamine for everyone... let's see how your 'current popular music' goes down then knobbo).


Be ready to switch that shit up. KNOW YOUR TUNES so that you can change direction if necessary... and above all:


Play them in the right order, shithead.


Don't play your aMAZEbawllz slammin trax off the bat you doof. Warm up to something kicking, ease off and so on and save the good shit for last. (BEEP! Be prepared NOT to play those sacred tunes because in the moment, you know in your deepest soulheart that it won't work *sadface*)


Yes, I know noone is dancing and a 'floor filler' will 'fill he floor' but if you can't follow up don't fucking bother - that's a bigger let down for everyone than if you're just playing tunes people can enjoy background (yeah, what a horrible idea - fucking IMAGINE if you played songs which didn't compel people to suck each other off because they're 'that good' GIMME A FUCKING BREAK you are there to entertain).  As long as people don't leave the room en masse, every annoying fucker who crosses the empty dancefloor to say 'quality choon man' is a fucking BONUS.
If you get people dancing you are not God of their fucking night as much as you wish you were. You can lose them just as quick.
Play the sawngs in the right order and stfu.


If you mess up, fix it.
If it's a minor fuck up, just lead back to solid ground - where people were at LEAST tapping their fucking feet.
If it's major, pull that shit. GET IT OFF dammit. Quit being so precious. Surprisingly not EVERYONE spontaneous-orgasms constantly to all ten minutes of Rez by Underworld (again, *sadface*). More power to you if you scratch the needle over the disc as if to say, "YOU KNOW WHAT?! YOU ARE ALL CORRECT, I SUCK, HERE IS SOME ERASURE!' - so at least the homo's, metro's and faghags can enjoy a bit of something before you go try playing your Mr. Bungle/Neil Landstrumm mash-up you misguided, self-important shitface.


You are here to play music for the people. And unless for some demented reason they came to see *you*, you must play THEIR music at THEIR pace but hopefully with a decent sense of what works when (because they have no idea, trust me).
Work them and mould them further into their own buzz.
If they are gurning to fuck on MDMA, toy with them with the boomboom,  let it RIP... and calm them the fuck down before doing it again even harder.
If they are drunk, hold off on the anthems until that point where they're all just about to flag, then revel in watching them all spring to life as they encircle eachother, arms flailing about strangers' shoulders as if they go so far back they might have played with each others' pee when they were 6.
etc. etc. play your crowd. PLAY THEM!


Play *with* them, *FOR* them and play them like the mindless fickle puppets they are... but bear it all in mind, they might just develop a more discerning taste than even yours and walk off your 'floor and out of the room. And trust me, the most depressing performance experience is dj-ing to an empty room. Even 'performance art' of trying to suck your own dick alone in front of a mirror (as frustrating as it can be) is more rewarding.


Finally, end APPROPRIATELY.
This is tough. The manager might give you warning or just cut your power at exactly 2.30 AM. Or may allow an 'encore'... or the crowd might not even chant "WAN MO CHOON!"
Either way, if you do any planning of your set (don't do too much srs), save a couple of *appropriate* tracks you think will work at the end and, yet, as always, be prepared to switch it up. 
At that point you're either on a high from success or don't give a fuck anyway, so w/e, but just bear in mind it's your last chance to leave an impression.
At this point you may choose to replay a certain track.
If you *know* this is going to work, then do it. Otherwise NEVER replay. Even any given artist. NEVEREVEREVEREVEREVR unless [insert exceptions].


Well done Mr. DJ [I'm not being sexist, bitch, DJ's are 'men', even if they have clits so stfu vagina crotch].
And now it's time to reap your rewards!
FUCK is it!
Haha. The manager will be 'unavailable' to pay you.
All those hotties you flirted with have long since been 'escorted' home by total douches and you are left alone with your music and three random jackets people asked you to look after and forgot to pick up.


Maybe there's something of value in the jackets.
Otherwise, pack up, go home, alone... with a thumping head but still crank* yourself to sleep to a few tunes when you get there because, fuck it, MUSIC.


*crank - v. and n. - combination of wank (masturbation) and cry.

Selection

Alright alright STFU!
I know I haven't been here to change your diapers and mop your stinky face for weeks at this point, but sorry kiddo, Daddy was drunk ngK?


Yeah. For two weeks. Get over it.




So last time - which was, like, fucking way longer ago we discussed how you'd have been better off in the late sixties working in a mine in Northern England buying two or three 45rpm singles a week than you are now with your excessive pocket monies and access to all the free music in the world at the end of a keyboard. You asshole, your music collection FUCKING SUCKS!

Not least because it is hugely compromised squished-to-fuck tinny cruddy muddy mp3s, but mostly because it just does. it sucks.
Too much choice these days... rant rant rant. Etc.


Let's pretend you have a DJ gig coming up (yeah right).
And let's PRETEND you have a half decent 'record' collection.


What will you SELECT to bring?
Bear in mind vinyl is heavy and takes up space in your bag.




No, no, no: idgaf if you are dj-ing from your laptop in real life. This is another exercise which will focus your dumb ass.




You have to play for 6+ hours. Three to six minutes a song, that's a back breaking amount of vinyl.
If you're clever and done the collecting good then you don't have a dud tune... but!

...you have to play a certain type of crowd innit?

Let's say... it's 1984.
And it's an underground house venue.
You are, of course, from Chicago or possibly New York, and male (obviously)... and gay. And black.... and probably high as fuck most of the time.


But that's beside the point, check it.
Seven inch singles are no good now.
The discotheque has massive boomboom speakers and you want to take advantage of that bass. Albums and 45's will NOT cut it.
Also, make sure ALL of your selection is produced kick ass with plenty of bass in there and a generally amazing balance across the board.
Most of it should HOP out of your own home system and give you at LEAST a semi when played out on the club's speakers.


(Same translates to digital you guys. Shitty 128kbs mp3's sound awful - even CD's suck. Do NOT drop a tune that isn't full and powerful sounding).


You are totally down on all the latest underground hits and you have 'em all on 12". Nice.
Grab maybe 45% of those.
Do yourself a favour and don't look like a clueless dick... the records you bought yesterday and THINK are great might actually only SEEM great to you right now. Perspective man, get some.


Learn that that shit wasn't so hot by yourself in a week rather than getting over excited, blowing your load behind the decks only to witness an empty floor. (Having said all that look up Ron Hardy playing out 'Acid Tracks' for the first time).


ONLY bring records you know in your heart and soul to be absolute beauties. That way you can't put a foot wrong.
ONLY bring records that will suit the crowd, venue and atmosphere.
You made a few reel-to-reel edits. You think they kick ass, but do they really? 


And THAT said, do take risks. It's a house venue - they want the four-to-the-floor, but how about some Santana to chill those hyped up bitches out? That re-edit you made of Love Is The Message with the wussy intro gone and the extended break could blow the place APART! How about that cod-tastic Chicago number to surprise them? Just because 'Holiday' by Madonna is 'so last year' and too commercial doesn't mean the crowd may not go fucking wild for it if played at the right moment.


Just don't have one fucking tune accessible to you for the night that will be indulgence for you alone. Be honest with yourself about this. You ARE NOT PLAYING FOR YOU!
And... THAAAAAT said - don't play ANYTHING you don't completely believe in. If in any way actually into music, the crowd will read that and walk.


I hate to, but I'll summarise, just this once:

1) Select GOOD QUALITY well produced tunes (*unless you are Jamaican).

2) Bring only the styles of music that will work for the crowd & venue.
3) Careful now - new and exciting does not mean 'good' - try and be objective as possible about new releases.
4) Stray from number 2 (and even 3 a bit), knowing that you're willing to take risks and surprise them.

5) DO NOT *JUST* INDULGE *YOURSELF*!
6) Number Five.


...7)Be very fucking wily about how you pack your records.

Do not (EVVVVVVORRRR) pack your set fully programmed, but do it with a game-plan in mind. Put the tunes you know will work together together, the stuff you think will work first at the back (yes, at the back shhh now. Playing vinyl, you will realise why while playing out) etc. Do be prepared to deviate quite wildly at times and be 90% sure you can find any record in the selection in one minute or less.


Call your mate Barry to help with the extra bag you really shouldn't be bringing - it's mostly shit music that will ruin your rep.


See you for the set.

Update - another trip.

Fuck me. So sorry all. I went on a 'shopping' City break recently.
Got in a bit of bother. Not much, but funny that I actually purchased a hoodie and scarf before my trip considering the amount of fucking gear I 'obtained' while away and the amount of sports shops with 'free' hoodies I visited.


I have no interest in sports goods, so I just threw nikes in burning vehicles mostly.


I should holiday elsewhere but I do love that city.


Can't go into too much more detail, but just to let you know I will be back on the dj thing pretty soon.


Also, I love you fuckfaces. Catch y'all up in time.

Collection

Alright you sick twisted thieving fucks.
I realise you have 276GB of unforgivably lossy lossy (look that up I cba) mewsick on your hard drive, all of which you obtained in the most conniving and criminal of ways - illegal Internet download, but let's consider this fact:


87% of those cruddy mp3 files are shit.
That's not just my opinion (my opinion is actually in the high 90's tbh).
That's not just objective fact (probably same figure as mine).
That's YOUR fucking opinion you douche.


How do you expect to be able to separate the cream from the crud moron?


I has fowldors + I maintains em good.




I give a fuck.


Let's instead consider the bad old days.
The days when you'd sweat and bleed for four shillings and a ha'penny a week.
The highlight of that week would have been a Saturday afternoon trip down to Ron's Rekka Sto'.
You'd pop into Ron, red faced and beaming as Ron rubs his hands gleefully under the counter.


Ron knows you like the funkier shit and he's set aside some of the rarer imports he knows you will drool over and weigh up your cinema outing and decide to forgo the vague opportunity of a fondle with Francine for the sake of the latest rare motown 45 (because you my friend are a geek, and you shamefully choose trainspotter ornithologist collector ways over a good grope at the talkies).


Through the jigs and the reels and the chat and the listening you decide to definitely get the motown number and even though you hate the Rolling Stones, fuck it, you'll take Jumpin' Jack Flash because it's a damn stonking tune in fairness. Having your slacks let out will have to wait another week. Or perhaps Aunty Felicity might do it if you drop in for a spot of delightful teacakes and a natter later on.


After two years of toiling in this way you have built a sizeable collection.
You are the envy of your muso nerd mates and when they need someone to play some numbers after their weekly gig at Dandelion Garden (because dj's are all the rage these days) you're the man they call upon.


Now you haven't a clue about dj-ing. It's only one turntable so that will have to do.
But more to the point you can't read a crowd, and you can't program for shit.
First night you play all your funky shit up first, all in a row and then mellow the crowd out a little too much because you (quite rightly - with exception later when you get actually good at it) refuse to replay records.


It's not a great start, but you have one fucking solid gold weapon.


Will you ever play a bum track?


Fucking never.


Because you don't HAVE any bum tracks.


Every single single you eeked your hard earned cash out for is incredible because it had to be.
You couldn't click a mouse three times and download Ace of Bass' entire backcatalogue only to realise you do actually hate it all and would never ever play any of it in a set (idiot, a couple of their successful singles are fucking brilliant - listen PROPERLY!)
Back in the rough old times you had to actually listen when you made the choice to part with the moola.
You had to really consider which tunes gave you the biggest boners and which ones you sadly had to let go because they didn't make you cum a little right there and then in Ron's.


And hence, even after your first gig, with its faults and fuck ups, extended periods of dead air, playing album tracks at munchkin speed for a few seconds, its misread badly programmed come down iffyness, people think you are fucking amazing. Because they didn't even realise they fucking adored every single tune. Even the ones they'd never heard before.
And now they trust you and your taste and you just know when you get the sequencing down you will have them wailing and crying from the sheer exquisiteness of your set.


Get it?


Get it?




So here's your homework you spoilt techno-brats.
You're going to Ron's Rekka Sto'.


Take a virtual $50. Go on take it - it's only imaginary.
Go to discogs.com or ebay or wherever.
'Spend' it on VINYL releases (try to avoid reissues please) between 1967 and 1970.


Do not make a set list out of those tunes. Yet.


Do it again another three times at least a day apart and then make a set from the $150 worth.


(Strap on your virtual mask and striped pullover if you like and burglarise the Internets for the mp3s and make the playlist if you fancy. But I may call the cyber police on you.)


One bum track and you will never be a disco dj like you might have been if you worked the mines in those 'dark ages' we just fantasised about.