Tuesday, June 21, 2005

Wrong Music

I think this series of events is going to need a bit of history behind it. About 2 years ago, me and Andy formed a breakcore bokecore lockjaw DJ & MC act called DJ Tea and MC Cake. As DJ Tea, Andy played some pounding pounding breakcore music, spazzed out on hardcore painkillers and beer, broke records and knocked me over, as me, as MC Cake, would take the microphone and rant about water, rats, obesity, farmergabber, and other such fascinating topics, whilst inhaling helium and throwing sponges into the crowd. We were hot. We were asked to not perform at the Ocean Rooms or the Volks again, we damaged the floor at the Hot House, I nearly got beaten up by an angry psy-trance raver, I slid backwards down a muddy slope into the table containing the decks propelled by Crazy Mad Jo. This all culminated in our entering a DJ contest and being robbed of first place by a man who could scratch, like the scratchy man in Plato's Gorgias. And then Andy went away to Australia and Tea and Cake went into hiatus.

And then, onto the scene, there came a new challenger, none other than DJ Scotch Egg. Known to others as Shige, he was part of the Brighton Breakcore scene for a while. but launching himself as DJ Scotch Egg, he became a megaphone wielding MC who, with the assistance of Henry Siiitmat, produced a pounding breakcore beat over the top of which Shige would rant on about KFC and curse violently, pausing only to hurl scotch eggs into the audience. Sounds familiar?

About a month ago, my housemate Rosie made a chicken head for my housemate Tom. Made from a large sheet of yellow fluffy material, it fitted over Tom's head like a chicken-themed gimp mask, not having any eyeholes. Tom was chuffed. Yellow, with a red felt beak and crest, it was lovely. And who should steal the chicken head? None other than Shige. Stealer of our ideas and of Tom's chicken head, he also once stole Nick's pint in a pub. Something had to give...

And so, the other day, we went to go see Buck 65. Lustful and growling, he was, and a fine show. He has a new song that goes Flaming Skeleton / On a motorcycle as the chorus, which is definately my sort of thing. Not quite sure about his keen-ness for pastoral elegy, but you can't have everything.

Then, after Buck, Tom and Anna and Victoria met me on the beach, and we went to the Volks to go see Shige. I was littered with faux-pas, firstly accidentally saying something inappropriate to someone who may or may not have been Anna's new man, and then accidentally giving Victoria a nosebleed and then getting kicked out of the girls toilets whilst trying to clean it up.

Shige comes on stage. The plan is that I'm going to get him to eat some chicken stock. Not entirely sure where that comes from. So about half way through his set I get up on stage and offer him the stock. He's not having any of it, and I just stand there, looking serious, the packet of chicken stock held out in front of me. Shige continues to run about with his microphone. I stand there. 2 minutes pass. Tom comes up to me; "I can see the chicken head." "Put it on me", I reply. Tom puts the chicken head on me. I am now blind. I continue holding the chicken stock. Shige continues his stuff. Then I begin to smell burning. I lift the chicken head to reveal my eyes. The box of chicken stock is on fire. A man from the Volks comes along and puts it out. Amist the smoke I get the microphone from Shige. We duet for a bit. Then I get the microphone.;

"I've eaten so much
I feel so fat,
And I'm stuck in a box
With water and rats".

Again and again. Pounding pounding breakcore. I think the crowd liked it and this continues for a bit and then the breakcore gets louder and louder and I wouldn't be surprised if something exploded because it all finishes. We get the chicken head.

Afterwards two things happen. Shige manages to get the chicken head back and also it turns out that both me and Shige are banned from performing at the Volks for being too loud. This is actually the second time this has happened to me.

All in all quite a funny evening. Apparently Henry (who wasn't there) cursed himself for missing 'the MC Battle of the century'. And he's a man who doesn't use hyperbole lightly.

2 Comments:

Blogger Della said...

irony is sexy; hyperbole is sexier

pounding pounding bokecore lockjaw eh? sounds good

chicken stock sounds good too. but how?

12:51 AM  
Blogger andyjamesnelson said...

So Chris I think that we stole our act from henry. Well I mean Breakcore is breakcore really isn't it. Sure were good but I mean who cares about She-gay. When I get back we will show them a thing or three. Then we'll throw sushi at him. Lamer. He is a bit to much into stealing stuff though. He's always stealing drinks in bars. That is one of the most lame thing a human can do. Plus he's Japanese for gods sake. I mean their meant to have honour. He doesn't know the way of the Sam-or-rye. I do. Love you Chris but your gay because you never write to me. love andy.

10:48 PM  

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