This guy is the perfect combination of "driven" and "over it".
Either that, or he smokes heroin. On the weekends.
Not really on that note at all, I've been listening to quite a bit of glam-y shit lately. This one is nice:
Nick Gilder - Back Street Noise
Top Billin 2008 Megamix
The Finns are like magic tree people. And these ones happen to love booty music:
"Hey friends, we made the annual megamix of tunes / remixes we and associates made
last year (about time to make this when it is still January). Also wanted to thank you for all the tunes you've sent us (keeping us
inspired) and all the great djing we've experienced with you (even
more inspiring)."
TOP BILLIN - 2008 MEGAMIX
Here's the tracklisting:
Top Billin - Smell Yo Dick
DJ Anonymous - U Fine
Bounce Camp - Big Dancin
DJ Anonymous & Top Billin - Money To Burn
Scottie B & King Tutt - African Chant (Top Billin remix)
Sharkslayer - Bad Ding
Top Billin - Smoke Trees
Top Billin - My Girl Wants
Tittsworth - Drunk As Fuck (Top Billin remix)
Top Billin - Hoes & House
Sharkslayer - Fleshlighter
Sharkslayer - Cold As Ice
DJ Pataässä - Sweat Gunz
Top Billin - Tell Your Girl To Juke It Up
DJ J-Laini - Fuck N Tell
Candyman & Leatherface - Ultimate Feeling
Sevonte Swang
Fuck me. This mix has been bashing me in the brain since I put it on. Easily on of the classiest mixes I've heard in ages. Dj Pump is one of the strangest cats I know, but he has crazy soft skin and perfect fingernails. This mix is full of mostly lesser known gems from th3 80's club era, drenched in reverb and synth bends. Is nice.
Sevonte Swang - DJ Pump
Sevonte Swang - DJ Pump
CARIBOU
At Crashed Ice a lady came on stage in the 30 below temperatures, and handed me a warm bottle of Caribou. I guess it is a big tradition at Carnival:
"Le principe fondamental du caribou est simple : associer du vin rouge et de l'alcool fort (whisky, vodka, rhum, gin, etc)."
That means it's red wine and hard alcohol mixed. Quebec you crazy for this one!
It probably saved me from freezing to death. So here's a toast to Quebec City and Caribou.
REDBULL CRASHED ICE · STREET PARTY
The Redbull Crashed Ice street Party on Grande Allee in Quebec City was intense.
Even the -33 weather could not keep people from Partying. Such a fun show.
UPTOWN NOLIA BOY
Download over at Cocaine Blunts.
Related: Magnolia Projects wiki
DEEP BURNT
So Pepe Bradock in this tune sums up what I love about sampling in music. He takes a four-note sample from the start of Freddie Hubbard's "Little Sunflower" and turns it into a 10 minute sprawling epic. In 1999 this was being played in lounges and dance clubs and sounded equally at home in both.
Pepe Bradock -
Deep Burnt
My people were fair and had sky in their hair,
but now they're content to wear stars on their brows.
I cannot even begin to write every little detail of the trip, so I won't even try. Here's a brief rundown, and a few of my favorite memories. Other than that, I'll let the photos do the talking.
On the flight from L.A. to D.C. a Roger Waters lookalike sat across the aisle from me. I blasted Pink Floyd and stared at him for practically all of the 4.5 hours. I desperately wished for him to see the irony. After a very brief time in D.C., it was off to Buenos Aires. "Comfortably Numb" over Cuba, and "Summer '68" over Jamaica. Once we landed and went through long lines and hectic customs, we were given wet kisses by an uncle, and were quickly escorted to a small car For the first couple weeks of our stay, we stayed with my mother's cousin (Florencia, as well as her husband, Alejandro, and their children Martin and Mili), who was much like an aunt to us. Throughout the visit, we met plenty of family who like to drink plenty of wine and laugh into the wee hours. On Thanksgiving night, there was a blackout. I bathed by candlelight, and after dressing, I lied down on the bed and (of course) listened to Pink Floyd as lightning light up the sky. It was as though the sky was taking pictures of the world. It was a serene moment. Days later, on the way back from the largest mall in Latin America, the weather still gloomy, we sat in the back of Alejandro's truck as raindrops trickled through the window and hit my face, and Bob Dylan hummed in my ears. Eventually, we moved into my grandmother's apartment in the heart of Buenos Aires. From then on, we adventured everyday. In a previous post, I talked about my favorite spot, Plaza Francia in Recoleta, Buenos Aires. (Just blocks away) The entire area of Recoleta is just stunning. Lots of gorgeous French-style architecture, with parks, squares, cafes, galleries, and little shops, with beautiful bohemians running around on weekends. I also adored Calle Florida, and everything that surrounded it. The incredible walk from our part of town to Calle Florida let us cover plenty of land. I wish I could've caught all the names. As I write this, I'm looking up all the names I can remember and photos, and its all so breathtaking. Its hard to believe I was truly there. The people of Argentina were also interesting. The women were fairly unfriendly, and completely unaccepting of North American women (especially when we were dressed in very un-Argentinian garb). The men, on the other hand, were very attentive. Either complete dogs or absolute gentlemen. One rainy night, my grandmother, sister, and I walked home from a day touring the city. My grandmother told me to walk under the sheltered areas, but loving rain as I do, I didn't listen. Then when we were just about home, a gorgeous, suited man lightly placed his hand on my back and his umbrella over my head and said "Permiso?" Mind you, I had never experienced such hospitality in the U.S., so I completely taken back, all I could do was smile and nod. My grandmother was completely convinced this man thought I was a prostitute (She is old, very foreign, and completely overprotective. Its part of her charm.) and that was the only reason he wanted to talk to me. So she yelled at his furiously in Spanish and scared the poor man away. I kept an eye out for him until the day I left. Another time, after all of my music got deleted off my iPod (I cried big, salty tears), I went to use a restaurant's WiFi and couldn't get it to work. So, the manager announced to the restaurant that they needed someone who could read English to try to help us. A clean-cut looking fellow with Keith Richards-like bone structure stepped up, with his gorgeous girlfriend, and said he'd give it go. He was beautiful and charming, and eventually I got enough music to hold me over. On our voyage back, we had a layover in Panama City. As soon as we got off the plane, we walked into a terminal where a marching band played "The Final Countdown" at high volumes. We were soon on another plane back to Los Angeles. Never have I loved my home more. I anxiously awaited our arrival in this divine city, and once we landed, I genuinely wanted to kiss the ground. To sum it all up: the clothes, the men, the architecture, the food, the wine, and so much more of Argentina's rich culture, is all just brilliantly delicious in every way. One day, I'll return (under my own conditions, without my grandmother, and with a return ticket) and lap up everything once more.
I cannot even begin to write every little detail of the trip, so I won't even try. Here's a brief rundown, and a few of my favorite memories. Other than that, I'll let the photos do the talking.
On the flight from L.A. to D.C. a Roger Waters lookalike sat across the aisle from me. I blasted Pink Floyd and stared at him for practically all of the 4.5 hours. I desperately wished for him to see the irony. After a very brief time in D.C., it was off to Buenos Aires. "Comfortably Numb" over Cuba, and "Summer '68" over Jamaica. Once we landed and went through long lines and hectic customs, we were given wet kisses by an uncle, and were quickly escorted to a small car For the first couple weeks of our stay, we stayed with my mother's cousin (Florencia, as well as her husband, Alejandro, and their children Martin and Mili), who was much like an aunt to us. Throughout the visit, we met plenty of family who like to drink plenty of wine and laugh into the wee hours. On Thanksgiving night, there was a blackout. I bathed by candlelight, and after dressing, I lied down on the bed and (of course) listened to Pink Floyd as lightning light up the sky. It was as though the sky was taking pictures of the world. It was a serene moment. Days later, on the way back from the largest mall in Latin America, the weather still gloomy, we sat in the back of Alejandro's truck as raindrops trickled through the window and hit my face, and Bob Dylan hummed in my ears. Eventually, we moved into my grandmother's apartment in the heart of Buenos Aires. From then on, we adventured everyday. In a previous post, I talked about my favorite spot, Plaza Francia in Recoleta, Buenos Aires. (Just blocks away) The entire area of Recoleta is just stunning. Lots of gorgeous French-style architecture, with parks, squares, cafes, galleries, and little shops, with beautiful bohemians running around on weekends. I also adored Calle Florida, and everything that surrounded it. The incredible walk from our part of town to Calle Florida let us cover plenty of land. I wish I could've caught all the names. As I write this, I'm looking up all the names I can remember and photos, and its all so breathtaking. Its hard to believe I was truly there. The people of Argentina were also interesting. The women were fairly unfriendly, and completely unaccepting of North American women (especially when we were dressed in very un-Argentinian garb). The men, on the other hand, were very attentive. Either complete dogs or absolute gentlemen. One rainy night, my grandmother, sister, and I walked home from a day touring the city. My grandmother told me to walk under the sheltered areas, but loving rain as I do, I didn't listen. Then when we were just about home, a gorgeous, suited man lightly placed his hand on my back and his umbrella over my head and said "Permiso?" Mind you, I had never experienced such hospitality in the U.S., so I completely taken back, all I could do was smile and nod. My grandmother was completely convinced this man thought I was a prostitute (She is old, very foreign, and completely overprotective. Its part of her charm.) and that was the only reason he wanted to talk to me. So she yelled at his furiously in Spanish and scared the poor man away. I kept an eye out for him until the day I left. Another time, after all of my music got deleted off my iPod (I cried big, salty tears), I went to use a restaurant's WiFi and couldn't get it to work. So, the manager announced to the restaurant that they needed someone who could read English to try to help us. A clean-cut looking fellow with Keith Richards-like bone structure stepped up, with his gorgeous girlfriend, and said he'd give it go. He was beautiful and charming, and eventually I got enough music to hold me over. On our voyage back, we had a layover in Panama City. As soon as we got off the plane, we walked into a terminal where a marching band played "The Final Countdown" at high volumes. We were soon on another plane back to Los Angeles. Never have I loved my home more. I anxiously awaited our arrival in this divine city, and once we landed, I genuinely wanted to kiss the ground. To sum it all up: the clothes, the men, the architecture, the food, the wine, and so much more of Argentina's rich culture, is all just brilliantly delicious in every way. One day, I'll return (under my own conditions, without my grandmother, and with a return ticket) and lap up everything once more.
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