Saturday, 3 December 2011
The coffin stopped
It's nice to share, as I am often telling the elder of the little Olympicses. This applies not just to letting your baby sister eat your teddy, but to making rockin' tunes as well. This week's hotly anticipated dredgings from the electro canal were knocked up with friends at the turn of the century. We didn't know what we were doing, but we had a nice time.
Switchblade by Ghost Olympics
I did this with an old schoolchum, who went on to pioneer the fashion of playing of two records at the same time (you can call it mash-up if you like). Perhaps we sowed the seeds on this genial afternoon. It's let down occasionally by a leaden, clunky beat (nothing a good bassline wouldn't fix) but redeemed by its liberal use of the eighth best single of the eighties and whatever tunes were at the top of the pile that day. Can you spot them? What I particularly like about this is the casual disregard for maintaining a groove, in favour of wanging in a new bit every 15 seconds.
Crazy by Ghost Olympics
This was the result of a few hours mucking around with my friend, flatmate, and owner of the computer, who shall henceforth be known as The Doctor, cos he is one. (Back then he was just The Nurse). A grungy single-bar loop, lots of mucking about with doing things backwards and upside down and another cheeky sample featuring the twenty-third best single of the nineties. Also eschews danceability in favour of schizoid idea hopping at the end. We must have been getting, um, tired at that point.