Saturday, February 25, 2006

radio :: Dialect-ic Playlist 25/02/06

Starflier :: Toy Death [AUSTRALIA]
It's Wonderful :: H2O [SOUTH AFRICA]
Kepp Kui Banch :: Da Fugitivz [THE GAMBIA]
Abuelita's Dance :: Djinji Brown [USA]
Porrada Solucao :: Bonde Do Gorila [BRAZIL]
Liberdade :: Das Primeiro feat. Dhamn a Rush [ANGOLA/PORTUGAL]
The Seed :: H2O
Raga Bass (Live at the Ref 2005) :: Prussia [AUSTRALIA]
Comment Ca Va :: Zap Mama [CONGO/BELGIUM]
Bopp Sa Bopp :: Daara J [SENEGAL]
Where Ya From? :: Diafrix [AUSTRALIA]
Freestyle Aerobics :: Yin Tsang [CHINA]
Song For The Dalai Lama :: The Bird [AUSTRALIA]
Sata Naakkaa Sitten :: Islaja [FINLAND]
Trance Tibet :: Tenzin Choegyal [TIBET/AUSTRALIA]
Consolidated Veneers :: Size [AUSTRALIA]
Brand New Day :: Zubz [ZIMBABWE/SOUTH AFRICA]
African :: H2O feat. Zubz
Mr Grammatarticalogylisationalis (Chief Xcel Mix) :: Fela Kuti [NIGERIA]
Alkoholik :: Vulgargrad [AUSTRALIA]
Va Por Chapultepec :: Bersuit Vergarabat [ARGENTINA]
Ululu :: Northsiders [MEXICO]
Presente, Pasado y Futuro :: Bocafloja [MEXICO]
Sioni Raha :: Sinpare [KENYA]
Meropa (Pitseng Tse Kgolo) :: BOP [SOUTH AFRICA]
Milk Cow Mantra :: Combat Wombat [AUSTRALIA]

Monday, February 13, 2006

history :: Uberlinguastreaker


Sydney-based artist Mashy P relates a tale about the travails of DJing, this time at inner-city Melbourne's home of Uber Lingua:

"I was playing the St Jeromes venue in central Melbourne the other night, having just flown into town. Got myself a beer and settled into a set behind the decks. I started playing some latinesque dance tunes, when this dreadlocked guy came up to me, armed with a quick succession of 'up yours' fingered salutes. I said "whats up" and he started ranting about a guy with a Led Zeppelin T-shirt - who from what I could gather didn't like the selection. I saw the Zep shirt dude sitting in the venue, and he seemed happy enough. Trying to humour the guy, I suggested the T-shirt wearer perhaps was donning the top as a trendy retro thing, maybe he wasnt really into Led Zep. On this he said "well at least you talk" - and with further 'up yours' gestures he dissapeared into the crowd. I was forgetting about the incident, when he returned stark naked about 10 minutes later. He came up to the booth and said, "This is because of the Led Zeppelin T Shirt" - before being escorted out of the venue by a security guard, confused smiles and raised eyebrows abound."

gig :: Global Trash in Canberra

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

history :: Free Festival (southern Tasmanian bush)

There is no transport for which you can buy tickets, to the end of this road I’m going to. My journey starts with sticking out a thumb on the open highway heading out of Hobart. My grubby backpack that has waited at many train stations of Europe – and shared the rooves of collapsing buses with animals in Indonesia and Central America – is loaded with a couple of dozen records and a few hundred CDs. This precious cargo is padded with a sleeping bag. I carry no shelter, although the skies loomed grey yesterday. But I’m heading to The End Of The Road where only the sun shines, and no one needs to sleep.

“Where are you headed?” asks an elderly gent whose white van has coughed to a halt to offer me a lift. He reverses along the gravel on the side of the highway, as I shoulder my pack and jog towards him. I jump in and say “To The End Of The Road!” with a big smile. “Eh?!” shouts the man, leaning towards me to hear, his prominent hearing aids not having done their job. Instead of repeating myself, I ask him where he’s going. “I’m about to move out of here,” he responds, equally esoteric. Maybe he had heard me. “I’m about to sell up everything I own, and buy a boat.” From the seat between us on the bench, I pick up a page ripped out of a boat buyer’s magazine. A fifity-something foot sailing boat is circled. “Now that I’m alone, the house is too big,” continues the Old Man.

We sit there in silence. I felt satisfied to be on the road again, rolling towards The End Of The Road. The Old Man seemed happy to have a stranger for company, someone to proclaim a dream to, without being laughed at. “So this has been a dream for a long time?” I shouted, repeating my question several times until he had leaned over close enough and registered. I didn’t have the heart to ask him how he would face stormy seas in his physical condition; how someone would communicate with him as wave upon wave crashes down on the deck. “Yes, it’s been a dream for a long time,” the Old Man mumbled, bent back over his steering wheel. Several cars overtook us on the highway, as we struggled over a pass. Our conversation halted, and I pondered whether I would still have the energy to face The End Of The Road in a few decades. The Old Man drove several kilometres past his Home For Sale, and dropped me off past the bridge on my turn-off. I thanked the man, wished him good luck in selling his house, and felt relieved to be standing in fresh air again.

It’s frustrating not to have a car. I don’t own a home. I earn enough to barely survive, although I’m constantly knocking back work and forced to reshuffle priorities. Is it work I’m headed to there - at The End Of The Road - as the Free Festival organisers asked me if I could bring a bag of party tunes to play? That’s what I decide to tell the lady who stops for me here, with her “No Greens” sticker on the car. I’m on my way to work, not a hippie festival. We talk about the beauty of the scenery in this remote-feeling, sparsely-populated corner of Tasmania. She complains about the noise made by drag racing taking place on an almost nightly basis past her front door. I don’t own a car, I tell her proudly. She’s cool with that, and drives me quite a few extra kilometres past her house to the next turn-off.

Now I’m stuck. It’s a narrow dirt road, a pot-holed track. I walk. I hear a car approach and turn around. The letters B-I-T-C-H cover half the windscreen of a 4WD ute in bright pink. It speeds past me kicking up dust and rocks. I walk some more. I can’t curse my job, of having to carry these tunes to play music for free to an audience that is paying nothing to hear my selections. All that makes me satisfied, happy. Eventually I can hear another car, it’s carrying Northern Territory number plates stops for me. At The End Of The Road, I’m greeted by a collection of tents; tee-pees; tarpaulin kitchens; a gambler’s den inside a labyrinth built of a cardboard; a beer-filled bath-tub bar; and the main stage.

Popular Irish tunes are being played by a group that have renamed themselves the Van Diemens Band and whose supporters are wearing T-shirts saying “Convict Country”. Members of a punk outfit currently touring Tasmania - Sydney City Trash – jump on stage to spit the lyrics to a ditty that everyone knows but can only remember the chorus to. I blend into the scene. I think about the Old Man and his boat. I have no house to sell - but am on my boat here, at the end of this road; carrying it inside my backpack, to share with all these people.

Thanks to the Terraphonic Sound System for hosting Free Festival.

radio :: Dialect-ic playlist 03/02/06

Thanks to Monkey Marc and MC Izzy of Combat Wombat for talking about their new album Unsound $ystem & their influences.

The World Keeps On Turning :: The Herd
When The Revolution Comes :: Combat Wombat
Real Animal Noises :: ABC of Sound
Highway Burner :: Hermitude
Star Wars :: Combat Wombat
Displaced Peoples (feat. Chris Mutiny) :: Combat Wombat
Istikbar :: Gnawa Diffusion
Ta Travudia (Roots Bloody Roots Man Remix) :: Rosapaeda
Punk Up The Wombles :: Mashy P
Mustapha Dance :: The Clash
Monkey Banana (Chief Xcel Remix) :: Fela Kuti
Iron Bar Dub :: Linton Kwesi Johnson
Western Desert Mob :: Sonic Boom
Stolen :: Local Knowledge
Brothers Gonna Work It Out :: Public Enemy
The Truth About Tasmania :: Curse Ov Dialect
Humano Soy :: MC Profundo
Clockwork :: Combat Wombat
Aha! :: X-Plastaz
Kore Ranu I Te Pati :: Upper Hutt Posse
White Gold Burger :: Fun Da Mental
Satisfied? :: J-Live
Milk Cow Mantra :: Combat Wombat
Hooked & Addicted :: Swami

Thursday, February 02, 2006

gig :: Sydney Harbour Lingua

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

hype :: Swiss Rap meets Bongo Flava


From Rio de Janeiro there is 'Baile Funky'. From South Africa there is 'Kwaito'. Urban subcultural sounds are coming from places other than New York or London. From Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania - there is 'Bongo Flava'. There is a website dedicated to the movement: www.bongoflava.com, a site established by a German filmcrew who did a movie on Bongo Flava.

German label Outhere Records released a tasty Bongo Flava compilation in 2004. Jay Rutledge of Outhere is responsible for the some of the foremost contemporary African sounds becoming known to the rest of the world. For the tour to accompany a CD on the Lagos (Nigeria) scene, Outhere received support from the German government. Exciting recent news for me personally, is the funding by the Swiss Government for a project called 'Swiss Rap meets Bongo Flava'. You can download that whole CD here! Listen to Swiss dialect mixed with Swahili, deliverd in Bongo Flava style.

One day the Australian Government will be funding hip hop collaborations with our northern neighbours. Indonesia! PNG! East Timor!

hype :: Refugee Rap


There is M.I.A., whose Tamil-Tiger parents fled to Europe. There is south-Sudanese rapper Emmanuel Jal, who recorded with north-Sudanese Oud player Abdel Gadir Salim. In Australia, there are talented emerging (and established) African-origin artists like Mr Zux, Black Symbol, Diafrix and Creator MC - some having arrived as refugees, and others have simply "arrived". We all arrive from somewhere. Arriving soon on Australian shores courtesy of Uber Lingua, are four outspoken acts from Africa.

An interesting fresh arrivee is Canada-based Somali rapper K'Naan, his war-time life experiences challenge US Afro-American ghetto artists. Download a pumpin' track of his at Fat Planet, and read his blog here. His lyrics speak of Somali gunmen, but there is much beauty in reading about his recent tour to Djibouti, neighbouring country to Somalia:

"The encore situation over there was quite funny, but beautiful too. See over there they don't wait for you to finish your performance to ask for an encore. They actually cheer for an encore when ever you finish a song that they love. So that they can all do their part to contribute to the song, some sing along, some encourage others to, some clap, some dance, but they are all apart of it. Which means I've had to perform certain songs twice in a row, some three times. It sounds crazy but it's perfectly normal in our region. It just means that the song is community. And it is to be lived in over and over again, when it feels right, when it speaks to the struggle, and all of this should be done, not latter, but now!" K'naan.