It’s going to take a lot of nostalgia offsetting to make up for this one, but a video of a decent BFI Q&A from James Lavelle’s Meltdown to coincide with their screening of 1988’s Bombin’ is online, with filmmaker Dick Fontaine (who also directed 1984’s Beat This! — a huge influence on a generation who are currently tutting at the culture like their parents tutted at them when they sat down in front of the TV back in the mid 1980s to watch it for the umpteenth time), Lavelle and Goldie in conversation. Obviously the usual Bambaataa/Flash chatter is there but Goldie makes some good points about obtaining objects of clothing that are a Google search away now and the almost otherworldly power they carried, after the quest to hunt them down. It’s worth watching and Bombin’ is always worth watching — having only ever watched it on copies of copies, I never want to see a remastered version. It would take me out my comfort zone, like watching Seinfeld in HD (I revisited Under Siege 2 in HD recently and could see the dust on Eric Bogosian’s PC monitor.) I find the fuzz comforting. These days, we 30-somethings have split into factions — the ones so desperate to remain relevant that they’re feverishly trying to be on any trap slur mix tape thing first, even if it’s no good whatsoever, or the ones stuck in the 1987-1994 loop. I believe that there’s a middle ground. Shouts to archivist, photographer and Goldie’s former manager, Martin Jones for uploading the first hip-hop thing I ever remember seeing on TV — the Supreme Rockers from Birmingham and B-Boys from Wolverhampton (the Midlands seemed like a British Bronx to me back then) on the otherwise terrible Saturday Starship one Saturday morning in late 1984 (so I can thank Bonnie Langford and Tommy Boyd for my love of hip-hop somehow.) If you’re under the age of 30, apologies for the old man talk I’m dropping on you here — I don’t expect you to care.
Forgot today was blogging day. Can I just talk about the last three things I watched on YouTube? While I’m at it, I’ll plug this Tinker Hatfield feature too because there’s a few jewels in there for the nerds. I’ve been distracted by Mickey Drexler’s remarks in this Stanford appearance from late last year — I don’t subscribe to the quasi-motivational drivel that do-littles hurl all over Twitter and Facebook, but Drexler’s answer 23 minutes in regarding explosive modes of management is amazing and he offers a good excuse to use next time you swear loudly in a meeting. “Surround yourself with people that get it,” is easier said than done but it’s the key to greatness. It also means you need to recruit fellow dysfunctional oddballs.
This BBC footage of Goldie in 1989, as well as some other writers is pretty good too. It’s a shame that Dick Fontaine’s candid clips of Goldie talking about NYC trainyard and tunnel excursions have been taken down from YouTube.
For a minute I thought that a 2000 Channel 4 documentary (from Madonna Night) on her early Downtown days was a figment of my imagination, but it’s partially available online. One of the few documents of Futura 2000’s relationship with Madge, it includes a few soundbites from the man himself plus Fab Five Freddy’s entertaining attitude to her antics in the early 1980s, “I really thought Madonna was cool, but for me personally, she was not the kind of chick I would really would have wanted to get with, because a lot of my other crew had been up around her. You know what I’m saying? And that just wasn’t my steelo at the time.”
The FUCT book for Rizzoli arrives in September, but Erik Brunetti has got his hands on an advance copy and it looks very good indeed. He’s taking pre-orders for signed copies on his site and with “streetwear”s continuing slide into just being a load of self-congratulatory thirtysomethings selling crap to kids (actually, it’s always been like that, hasn’t it?) the sense of threat that Brunetti managed to bring to the party seems more vital than ever. The fact Erik really fucking hates street art is reason enough to support his cause.
Zack De La Rocha wearing the classic Ford bite tee on a No Nirvana — a 1993 BBC Late Show special, was a great moment in streetwear on British TV. While Rage Against the Machine sure ain’t grunge (though that show was mostly bands that fell into that genre), will the current preoccupation with that scene’s industry mean an onslaught of short-sleeve tees over long-sleeves as well as plaid around the waist?
The perfect soundtrack for that FUCT book would be Sly and the Family Stone’s classic There’s a Riot Goin’ On, with its aura of apocalypse vaguely audible beneath the good time riffing and Get On Down’s gold CD remaster comes with an embroidered take on the blood and stars American flag cover. No matter how jaded you are with fancy packaging to make you buy things you’re familiar with all of again, you’ve got to admit it looks pretty.
I don’t know much about art, but I know what I hate. I also don’t know an awful lot about graffiti either – my tagging career stalled through cowardice, a piss-poor handstyle and leaking marker pens annhilating my Karl Kanis. You see, I knew when to stop. Some people just don’t. Perhaps I’m in the minority, but while I’m a hip-hop fanboy, I quickly tired of talk of graffiti as a hip-hop ‘element.’ That’s constrictive bullshit. I prefer my writers to listen to Slayer or Grand Funk Railroad, rather than body-popping to the local legal wall and cloning DOZE characters. That said, I loathe…LOATHE, the new breed of ‘street art’ and those inspired to paint weak political statements on walls constructed from GCSE sociology and punchlines from last week’s ‘Have I Got News For You.’ Wheatposting your character in London’s hipster hotspots in the dead-of-night? Getthefuckouttahere. Grow the balls to do a throw-up you fucking coward.